Plongez dans l’univers mystérieux et palpitant de *Les étranges noces de Rouletabille* de Gaston Leroux, l’un des maîtres incontestés du roman policier français. 🕵️♂️📚 Dans cette œuvre captivante, le célèbre reporter-détective Rouletabille se retrouve face à une énigme où l’amour, le danger et les secrets s’entrelacent de façon inattendue.
✨ Que découvrirez-vous dans cette histoire ?
– Une intrigue riche en suspense et rebondissements ⚡
– Des personnages complexes, tiraillés entre passions et devoirs 💔
– Une enquête haletante menée avec l’intelligence légendaire de Rouletabille 🔍
– L’univers unique de Gaston Leroux, auteur du *Fantôme de l’Opéra* 🎭
🌟 Ce récit mêle mystère, drame et romance dans une atmosphère pleine de tension, parfaite pour les amateurs de classiques littéraires français. Une aventure où chaque détail compte et où l’esprit logique est mis à rude épreuve.
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**Navigate by Chapters or Titles:**
00:00:34 Chapter 1.
00:25:24 Chapter 2.
00:42:07 Chapter 3.
01:09:07 Chapter 4.
01:22:46 Chapter 5.
01:44:52 Chapter 6.
02:13:33 Chapter 7.
02:22:43 Chapter 8.
02:31:37 Chapter 9.
02:45:16 Chapter 10.
03:03:29 Chapter 11.
03:22:29 Chapter 12.
03:34:05 Chapter 13.
03:53:43 Chapter 14.
04:08:01 Chapter 15.
04:27:27 Chapter 16.
04:36:27 Chapter 17.
04:39:53 Chapter 18.
04:51:56 Chapter 19.
04:58:47 Chapter 20.
05:06:02 Chapter 21.
05:11:22 Chapter 22.
05:20:16 Chapter 23.
05:24:43 Chapter 24.
05:33:16 Chapter 25.
05:52:10 Chapter 26.
05:57:54 Chapter 27.
06:06:22 Chapter 28.
06:17:46 Chapter 29.
06:23:31 Chapter 30.
06:32:30 Chapter 31.
In “The Strange Wedding of Rouletabille,” Gaston Leroux takes us on an adventure where mystery mixes with passion. Rouletabille, the famous detective reporter, finds himself drawn into a thrilling intrigue surrounding his own wedding, a union as unexpected as it is perilous. Danger looms, secrets intertwine, and love clashes with dark forces. This fascinating tale explores not only the genius of an outstanding investigator , but also the fragility of feelings in the face of the machinations of fate. Prepare to discover a captivating enigma where everything can change. Chapter 1. IVANA’S GREAT TREASURE It was October 21, 1913, in the heart of the Balkans, in the dark passes of Istrandja-Dagh… night was falling… Preceding the first Bulgarian detachments which, in the first hour of the first battle of the Balkans, invaded northern Thrace and had the mission of occupying Almadjik, who is this small troop of horsemen who rush like the wind and know no obstacle?… They are so curiously placed between the first soldiers of the invader and the last Turkish fugitives that one cannot say exactly if they are fleeing or pursuing. The truth is that they are doing both things at the same time. They want to reach before being reached!… ” Forward! Forward!” shouts Rouletabille. What is the young reporter from L’Époque doing, between two fires, and what is this kind of rage that animates him? It is with incoherent words that he encourages his companions to follow him; and his mouth is full of curses. Such fury has never been seen in Joseph Rouletabille! Well! in truth, it is quite excusable in a young man who is known throughout the world for having penetrated the most obscure mysteries, for having unraveled the most complicated criminal intrigues, and who suddenly finds himself, and for the first time in his life, before the mystery of the female heart, of which he understands nothing at all! The good end of his reason, which until this day had sustained him in the worst trials by leading him irresistibly on the path of truth, is no longer good for him. It is in vain that he called upon it for help… what a defeat! The good end of reason has left him on the way; no more and no less than if it had been the bad one… And the cause of such a catastrophe?… A woman! a simple young girl that Joseph Rouletabille once loved with all his heart and whom he now claims to hate with all his soul: Ivana Vilitchkov!… It is she that he pursues at the end of this tragic day… it is after her that he runs… what an adventure! To try to understand her, let us do as Rouletabille did who, in his sad brain on fire, searches, in the past events in Sofia and at the sinister Château Noir [The Black Castle is the first episode of Rouletabille at the Battle, of which The Strange Wedding of Rouletabille is the second. The Black Castle, Editions Pierre Lafitte 3 fr. 50.], the thread of this unfathomable mystery… Let us summarize the facts: Sent by his newspaper to the capital of Bulgaria, to study closely the events that were being prepared there, Rouletabille had found in Sofia a young girl, the niece of General Vilitchkov, whom he had met in Paris where she had come to begin her medical studies and for whom he had immediately felt a most tender feeling. In Sofia, Rouletabille is received by Ivana’s uncle and he does not hide from the young girl that he loves her and that his most ardent desire is to marry her. The latter, who also seems to harbor quite strong feelings for the young man, responds however by trying to divert him from his plan. Ivana claims to be doomed, like her father and mother and her little sister Irene, all three of whom were murdered by an enemy of the family, to a tragic destiny. This enemy is called Gaulow, a Bulgarian driven out of Bulgaria and who became a Turk, a Mohammedan, a Pomak, which says it all. He lives in a sort of extraordinary fortress, in the heart of the mountains of northern Thrace, in Istrandja-Dagh, and from there, comes from time to time, for mysterious and cruel tasks, to Bulgaria. No one has yet been able to reach him! Gaulow defies the human race in his formidable Black Castle (Karakoulé)!… All this business is not, as one might think, to cool Rouletabille’s love. He will succeed, indeed, in ridding the Vilitchkov family, of the dreadful Gaulow who is also called Kara-Selim in Turkey. He only asks the young girl to kindly grant him her hand. She does not say no, but she does not say yes. Would you be engaged ? asks the anxious reporter and Ivana replies: No one here below has the right to call himself my fiancé. Here again is Rouletabille full of hope, when during the following night, a terrible night reminiscent of the horrors of the historic tragedy of the Konak of Belgrade, Gaulow and his gang burst into General Vilitchkov’s hotel , murder the general and his servants and take Ivana captive in the Black Castle. Rouletabille swears to avenge so many misfortunes and to save Ivana; he will also try to recover, at the same time, a certain Byzantine casket in the secret drawer of which are the precious plans of the Bulgarian mobilization. This, he formally promises to Major General Stanislawoff, one of the purest glories of his country, a friend of France, and famous since for having put his sword at the service of Russia during the prodigious conflict which, the following year, was to set Europe ablaze and dishonor Bulgaria. And there he is, off on an expedition. He takes with him his faithful reporter La Candeur and a very resourceful young Slav but with a rather lax morality named Vladimir. A cousin of Ivana also accompanies them: It is Athanase Khetew who, he too, would like to save his cousin whom he loves at least as much as Rouletabille can love him and for whose love he would also like to kill the dreadful Gaulow. As for Rouletabille and Athanase, they do not love each other much but are wise enough to contain their mutual animosity. The whole gang arrives at the Black Castle, where the most extraordinary adventures await them , at the moment when Kara-Selim celebrates his wedding with his captive Ivana. They pretend to be lost journalists and immediately set to work. They do not have an hour to lose. Ivana agrees to be the wife of Gaulow, the murderer of her parents, in order to regain possession of the family chest containing the mobilization plans. The young people must therefore both save Ivana and steal the chest. In the midst of the sumptuous celebrations being held at the Karakoulé, Rouletabille performs superhuman feats. He succeeds in carrying Ivana to the depths of the dungeon where the reporters are barricaded. In the meantime, although he has not been able to appropriate the Byzantine chest, Rouletabille has guessed its secret and has been able to verify that the precious envelopes are still there and that no one has yet touched them; no pomak even suspects their presence. Athanase receives from Rouletabille the mission of going to bring this formidable news to the armies of General Stanislawoff, who, from then on, will be able to descend, in complete safety, through the mountains of Istrandja, on Kirk-Kilissé. Athanase swears to succeed in his difficult undertaking and to return, with his comrades in arms, to free Ivana and the French journalists. Before escaping from the dungeon where the reporters are holed up, he manages to capture Gaulow, whom he entrusts to the care of Ivana, who has sworn on the spirit of her parents to kill him with her own hand.
The young people endure a most violent siege, with tragicomic twists and turns, which ends in the most singular way in the world. Not only has Ivana not killed Gaulow, whom she claims to be keeping as a hostage, but Rouletabille surprises her just as she is helping the the monster… and this, at the very moment when Gaulow was about to receive punishment for his crimes, when the armies led by Athanase Khetew appeared on the horizon!… What is this dreadful mystery?… Rouletabille cannot imagine that Ivana loves this man who murdered his own people and who had sworn the loss of his country?… So?… So?… So, we must act… we will reflect while acting… The bandits of Karakoulé, at the approach of the armies, fled, Gaulow, too, fled… Ivana, under the pretext of catching Gaulow, mounted a horse and ran after Gaulow… Ivana did not suspect that Rouletabille had witnessed her infamy, had seen her herself unwind the rope at the end of which Gaulow was swinging, freed by her!… Rouletabille in turn threw himself on horseback and ran after Ivana. The reporters and their servant Tondor are running after Rouletabille… such is the situation, very clear and yet very incomprehensible for anyone who knew Ivana, at the moment when we fall right into the reporters’ ride. Rouletabille grinds between her teeth: She’s running to join Gaulow!… …Ah! You can go fast, go, traitor, I won’t let you go!… I too will be there… And I will see with my own eyes what you will do with your Gaulow! What would she do with him? She had told him; yes, before mounting her horse, she had the effrontery to shout to him, to him who had seen the enormous thing, she had the cynicism to swear to him that she wanted, with her own hand, to offer to his country, as the first expiatory victim, Gaulow’s head!… How could he not burst out laughing in her face? How had he not spat in the face of this barbaric, bloodthirsty, lying little girl… How had he had the courage to restrain the generous fury that swelled in his veins, like a young lover scorned and a friend betrayed to the point of death, for from this betrayal they had all almost died!… How?… Why had he not said to her: I saw!… Shut up!… I saw!… I saw you save him from your hands, and if you run after him it is to fall into his arms? Oh! first of all simply because she had not given him time; then because he was really curious to see how far Ivana could go in lies and crime!… And then also, because, his heart full of rage, he dreamed in his turn of revenge or at least of some just punishment!… It is that perhaps still, in the darkest part of himself, the terms of the most curious psychological problem that he ever had to unravel and also the most mysterious at the same time as the most bizarre were beginning to be posed. Finally, if he had followed her in this insane race towards the South, it was because he remembered that he was a battle correspondent and that he was in great haste to find, now that he was freed, a post office before falling under the fierce censorship of the Bulgarians!… Between the two armies, always!… neither in one nor the other… , was this not his formula, the one he had always advocated to Vladimir and La Candeur?… Was this not his plan, from Sofia onwards? A dangerous plan no doubt, but one which only seduced him more for it!… So when, in this insane flight from Karakoule, La Candeur, who had miraculously found his Mecklenburger, asked him behind him, shaken in his saddle: Where are we going? had he been able to answer her: To do a report!… So they hadn’t even waited for the troops!… Ivana’s felony was dragging them along behind her… Yes, felony! felony!… That’s what Rouletabille kept returning to , although his mind was looking elsewhere… but he was too irritated not to fall back on that: felony! He no longer wanted to doubt that the love, the strength of which he had never yet measured, had accomplished the abominable miracle of transforming an opiate into a poor girl, capable of anything to satisfy her mad passion. This ignoble conversion must have taken place during those moments of absence that the reporter had often found inexplicable: Ivana certainly spent them with the prisoner, in the dungeon of the underground passage! How many times had he not been astonished not to see her at his side, at the height of the fight! and with what a singular face she suddenly reappeared, saying that she had taken the guard to let the katerdjibaschi rest. Finally, she did not leave this underground passage, under one pretext or another!… And Rouletabille, who had feared that it was to indulge in some abominable torture, reproached himself for having allowed himself to be deceived like a child! He remembered the Turkish phrase last spoken by the freed Kara-Selim, and addressed by him (with what a hideous smile of thanks!) to Ivana, surprised, without her having noticed, by Rouletabille on the tower. The reporter turned in his saddle and asked Vladimir: “What do these words mean: Benem ilé guel! ” “It means,” replied Vladimir: “Come with me!… Come to me —By Jove!” growled Rouletabille!… I too, I’m going with her!… I ‘m going with them! And if God is just, he will allow me to make them expiate their crime!” It could have been five o’clock in the evening when they saw the roofs of a village in front of Almadjik… The road they had taken was beginning to show certain peculiarities which astonished them at first but to which, subsequently, they were easily to get used each time they had to enter a village, town or small town, in short, in what had been, in some capacity, an agglomeration: on the sides of the road everything was devastated. The peasants’ huts seemed to have been ripped open by some cataclysm which had relentlessly smashed doors and windows and had started fires here and there. On the thresholds of these sinister cottages, it was not uncommon to see the corpses of women and children lying among pools of blood and in the most pitiful state. Other bodies deprived of life also littered the road and made the horses stumble at every moment; so that in fact , in fact, there was above all an agglomeration of corpses. And all these fresh remains were those of peasants of Bulgarian origin, easily recognizable by their costumes. Some had had to take refuge in their homes to await the arrival of the troops from the North, whose arrival had been signaled; others had left the village to run to meet them, but both had been joined and overtaken by the Turks of the village itself and of the surrounding region, who, before retreating before the invader, cleared the way and put to the sword or stake everything that belonged to the enemy race… A small stream rolled, singing joyfully, headless trunks … But it was on entering the village itself that our young people, who, at every moment, let out cries of horror, were able to judge the importance of the tragic event and the scale assumed by the sacrifice that MM. The Turks had offered, as a farewell, to the God of Battle! Heads cut off, trunks impaled, women disemboweled, children skewered, breasts cut off, nothing had been missing from this feast of blood. “It’s horrible!… it’s abominable!” shouted La Candeur, behind Rouletabille who said nothing and who had been prepared for all these horrors by what he had seen up close, in Morocco and the Caucasus, particularly in Baku and Balakani, during the tragic events between the Tatars and the Armenians. He had eyes only for a horseman’s silhouette which had just appeared at the corner of an alley… Ivana!… It was her!… He could not doubt it, it was her!… Had she seen them? She had suddenly taken off in a mad gallop and had carried her horse over a heap of rubble and smoking corpses… At the same time she had given a great wild cry, drawn her saber from its scabbard and, brandishing it in a stupefying whirl above her head, had disappeared around the corner of another alley which led to the place of the Mosque, whose high minaret could be seen enveloped in flames. Rouletabille demanded a supreme effort from his horse which, for some moments, had been showing signs of fatigue… He wanted to carry it off, too; but the beast stumbled in the middle of the rubble and the reporter rolled on the ground with his mount, against which came La Candeur, Vladimir and Tondor. It was a general and very brutal fall from which the reporters, as well as their servant, got up quite crippled. Rouletabille nevertheless began to run in the direction taken by Ivana. His comrades followed him limping. Then gunshots and a certain tumult were heard from the side of the village square. They were about to emerge upon it when they were not a little surprised to be stopped by Ivana herself, who was on foot like the rest of them. Her smoking beast, fallen beside her in the middle of the street, was kicking its feet in agony, its chest struck by a bullet. A noise of battle, the crackle of musketry, burst forth a few paces away, and projectiles whistled past their ears. Ivana was in extraordinary agitation. She ordered them, arms outstretched, not to go any further! “The Turks are massacring everyone! They have not yet abandoned the village; let us beware… they would not spare us! ” “And Gaulow?” asked Rouletabille. “He has joined the Turks!” she replied in a gloomy voice. “It was only a few minutes before I caught him… ” “So Gaulow has escaped!” growled a well-known voice. Everyone turned around. Athanase Khetew had just arrived behind them, just enough to hear Ivana’s words. He made a curse gesture at his smoking beast and looked contemptuously at the reporters. “I confided it to you…” he said simply. Ivana spoke: “We were betrayed at the last moment by the Katerdjibaschi (chief of the muleteers)… It was he who procured the rope to escape from the dungeon. As soon as we realized it, we did n’t even wait for you, Athanase Khetew! Despite all the desire we had to see you again and congratulate you (here a strangely soft and cuddly voice) and we ran after the monster!… ” “So it’s revenge to be taken!” said Athanase, who had turned remarkably red while looking at Ivana Vilitchkov… “And a game to start again!” she declared casually. “You must regret not having cut off his head when I brought him to you!” Athanase continued in a dull voice. “Obviously, my dear!” And she turned her back on him to turn her attention to something else. Athanase seemed very busy taming an unusual irritation. Rouletabille listened and watched. Ivana’s incredible cynicism also infuriated him . The reporter’s and the Bulgarian’s glances met. Did the two men understand each other? Athanase said: “We will find Gaulow!” “Yes,” said Rouletabille, “and this time, we will arrange things so as not to let him escape!” Ivana shuddered. However, she asked in a tone she wanted to convey indifference: “What are we going to do?” ” You will follow me!” said Athanase. “Orders from the general commanding the division.” He doesn’t want anyone to precede him and he’s afraid that an imprudent move might announce your movements… I’ve answered for you… You’ll go where I lead you, or rather he ordered me to lead you… “My dear Athanase, I’ll follow you to the ends of the earth!” Ivana said very quickly. Rouletabille turned pale, but she wasn’t paying attention to the reporter… “And where will we go, sir?” Rouletabille asked in an icy voice. ” Look! We’re going to make a little excursion beyond these mountains,” said Athanase, pointing to the horizon towards the East, then we will descend, very gently towards the South, without being hindered by the troops… “I believe you! We won’t even see them… ” “What does it matter to you?” replied Athanase, “if I give you my word of honor that I will have you emerge onto the battlefield at the most interesting moment! ” “That’s fine!” shouted Vladimir. “Don’t make us emerge into a place that is too dangerous,” expressed La Candeur with a certain melancholy. Rouletabille said: “Very well, sir, we obey you. We are now your prisoners, or almost. ” Behind Athanase, he had just noticed a small troop of horsemen, led by a non-commissioned officer. “You are my friends!” replied Athanase simply, “I have arranged for you to find your tents, your mules and all your impedimenta that I found while passing through Karakoulé.” Finally, you’ll have some fresh animals… “You think of everything, sir!” “He’s a great guy!” proclaimed Vladimir. They retraced their steps and reached the crest of the mountains to the west before nightfall . Before descending into the valley, the reporters were able to see the Bulgarian army and even hear it, for it was singing. How beautiful was that day, October 21, 1913, when General Radko Dimitrief’s soldiers finally penetrated Turkey on a front of more than twenty kilometers, in a country known only to muleteers and shepherds! When the columns of the fifth division, not even feeling the fatigue of such an effort, without allowing themselves an hour’s rest, continued their journey singing, towards the battlefields of Estri-Polos, Pitra, Kara-Kof, glorious stages before the thunderbolt: Kirk-Kilissé! This army, a memorable event in this century of railways, telephones, and wireless telegraphy, was not even suspected of its presence! It was advancing, feeling full of strength and mystery… It was believed to be towards the Maritza, to the East!.. And from peak to peak, however, it was still the song of the Maritza, a river where for centuries the blood of Bulgarians and Ottomans mingled, which the battalions returned to each other! Then, this song had not yet been sung by traitors to their race and their destiny: Flows Maritza Bloodied, Weeps the widow Cruelly wounded. March, march, our general! One, two, three, march, soldiers! The trumpet sounds in the forest, Forward let us march, march, hurrah! hurrah! Let us march forward!… How beautiful it was, that first dawn when there were only young people under the sun, full of life and sure of victory, when blood had not yet been shed, when the rage of the tragic event had not yet opened its wild jaws, when the sacred hope of delivering oppressed brothers swelled their breasts, when everyone held out their hands from the Balkans to the Rhodope and further still, all the way to the depths of Epirus and sweet Thessaly! For that beautiful day, enemy races had been reconciled and had set out together, to the sound of trumpets, with such enthusiasm that the world could believe for a moment that nothing would separate them again!… Alas! The world had forgotten that in Sofia there was a Coburg who watched over interests other than those of his homeland of a day!… This vision soon disappeared from the eyes of the reporters, who, behind Athanase, plunged into a country cut by peaks, rocks, and steep ravines, truly reminiscent of an alpine zone but much more desolate. The Bulgarian and the reporters shared in a few words their mutual adventures. Everyone was thinking of Gaulow. The tents were pitched; they had supper, for Athanase Khetew had brought provisions. After supper, Ivana withdrew, with a brief goodnight, to her tent, and Rouletabille dictated an article to La Candeur. The latter, the articles finished, slipped them into large envelopes on which He wrote the title and date of the article; then he put everything in a morocco briefcase that he never left. He had been doing this ever since the young people left Sofia and entered Istrandja-Dagh. When the article was finished, Vladimir exclaimed: “I can see Marko the Wallachian’s nose from here, when our newspaper publishes the series of Rouletabille’s correspondence! Poor Marko will certainly get sick from it!… We have already had the opportunity to say [In the first episode of Rouletabille at the battle: The Black Castle.] that Marko the Wallachian was a casual journalist, such as always appear in troubled times ; greatly despised—with good reason—by professionals, having done all the trades and having shown in each one a very small conscience. His role, at the moment, seemed immense to him. It was not lacking in importance. While awaiting the arrival of the special correspondent from the Nouvelle Presse in Paris, a major daily whose circulation rivaled that of L’Époque, he remained the master of sending the most ludicrous telegrams to a paper that was read throughout the world. Knowing Rouletabille’s reputation and having received instructions from Paris not to be outdistanced by the reporter from L’Époque, he had not failed, in Sofia, to keep an eye on him and had not ceased to invent sensational rumors, breaking news that shook the Stock Exchange. He was the bête noire of Vladimir Petrovitch, who accused him of lacking morality! “Leave us alone with your Marko!” growled La Candeur; it’s as if you only think of him… “Do you still believe that he followed us into the Istrandja?” asked Rouletabille in a rather ironic tone. “Sir, you’re wrong to make fun of me!” Vladimir replied. “When I think,” La Candeur continued, “that in the first days of our journey, Vladimir was constantly looking behind him to see if he could see Marko’s nose on the horizon!” And he began to laugh. “Don’t joke!” Vladimir protested, “I beg you, don’t joke … You don’t know what a Wallachian who has become a journalist can undertake!… ” “Well, what could he do to us? ” “Do we know?” I assure you that on the last evening before our arrival in the Gaulow country, when we had this vision of a shadow fleeing from La Candeur’s tent, and La Candeur cried out that his morocco briefcase had been stolen, I would have bet my life that we were dealing with Marko!… “That shadow,” La Candeur replied in a rather contemptuous tone, “never existed except in Vladimir’s imagination… and as for my briefcase, which I thought I had put in my canteen, I found it at the foot of my bed, where I had certainly left it myself before going to bed… ” “And my articles were still in there?” Rouletabille asked jokingly . “Yes, yes, Rouletabille, your articles are there! “Come to your senses, Vladimir Petrovitch!… and stop speaking ill of Wallachia… ” “Ah! Sir, if you knew Marko!… I tell you, I repeat , he’s capable of anything… Nothing would surprise me about him, he’s a guy who would sell his father and mother for a piece of bread and who’s had nasty stories with women!… I assure you, sir, that he’s a boy with no morals!… –To bed, everyone to bed! I’m on duty, ordered Rouletabille. And he took over. No sound came from the tents. The countryside seemed abandoned. Here and there, on distant peaks, fires appeared and then disappeared almost immediately. Rouletabille, his chin on the barrel of his rifle, looked at the canvas wall behind which Ivana lay. Was she resting? Was she dreaming?… To whom?… Enigma!… Chapter 2. VLADIMIR TELLS ROULETABILLE A STRANGE STORY Relieved of his guard by Tondor (Vladimir’s Transylvanian servant, the only one left in the small troop since the heroic death of Modeste and the Katerdjibaschi), Rouletabille returned to his tent, which he shared with Athanase Khetew. The Bulgarian was sleeping soundly, wrapped in his cloak which served as a blanket. By the light of the candle stuck in the neck of a bottle, Rouletabille considered this rough face for some time. During sleep, he was truly at peace; it was the face of an honest man who reflected no remorse and who rested from all the torments of the bad days, which for more than ten years had dug their terrible furrows in this still young flesh. He is worthy of being loved! Rouletabille said to himself, but he thought that Ivana did not love him and that she was a traitor who had deceived everyone. Thereupon he undressed, performed his ablutions as at home, turned off the oil stove, and slipped under the covers of his camp bed. Just in case, on the shelf, he had placed a fully loaded rifle within reach. He fell asleep thinking of Saint Sophia and dreamed that he was drowning in a cataract [See The Black Castle.]. For an hour he had been dozing like this when he suddenly sat up , his ear on the alert. He heard, behind his canvas, a few steps away, voices, a rapid whisper, then muffled exclamations; and he recognized these voices: sometimes it was Vladimir Petrovitch’s and sometimes La Candeur’s; Vladimir’s showed the fiercest bad humor, and La Candeur’s an extraordinary satisfaction. “Your turn!” said one. “No, it’s your turn!” replied the other, and then there was silence, and then more exclamations. Rouletabille slipped into his trousers. He wanted to know what was happening next door, and why these two men, who had affected such fatigue, were not asleep. Without making a noise and without waking Athanase, who was snoring softly, he left his tent and approached that of La Candeur and Vladimir, which let rays of light through the gaps in the loosely fitted canvas. Rouletabille very skillfully untied the strings that attached the floating door and suddenly appeared before the astonished gaze of the good La Candeur and the sad Vladimir. Rouletabille noticed that La Candeur was scarlet, all sweaty and in an unusual state of exaltation, while Vladimir was very pale. “Ah, but are you taking the piss?” whispered the reporter, are you playing?… There was, in fact, between the two young people a small portable table, and on this table a deck of cards and a piece of paper, on which some notes were written in pencil. Rouletabille pounced on the deck of cards. He had already confiscated two of them at the beginning of the journey and he thought they had no more cards. This passion for gambling was preventing them from taking the necessary rest. –You’re playing instead of sleeping?… You’re not mad, are you?… You ‘re not ashamed?… I’ve forbidden you enough! From the first evening it was understood that I would never see a deck of cards in your hands again!… Did you swear to me that you would not play again, yes or no?… –Rouletabille, don’t get angry, uttered La Candeur, conciliatory, I’ll tell you: we tried to sleep, but sleep didn’t come!… –Bunch of liars! You haven’t even undressed and your bunk isn’t undone!… But you didn’t have any more cards! Where did you find that filthy game? It’s disgusting!… “It was the non-commissioned officer who accompanied Mr. Athanase,” murmured La Candeur, lowering his head, “who dropped it from his pocket!… “You bought it from him, yes, you bandit! Or Vladimir stole it from him! ” “Sir! Sir! What do you take me for?… “And what were you playing at?” “But,” said La Candeur, “that little Russian game I told you about before.” and which is so amusing… “And what are you gambling?” asked the reporter, grabbing the paper that was on the table and on which he read: Good for five hundred francs. Signed: Vladimir Petrovitch. He tore off the note and, furious: “You’re even more stupid than I thought,” he said to La Candeur… “That you ‘re gambling money for money is fine, but against Vladimir Petrovitch’s signature… ” “I didn’t dare play Charlemagne,” explained La Candeur. “I’m gambling on signature because he won all my money,” said Vladimir, who didn’t look very well. “You had a lot? ” “Ask La Candeur. ” “There…” said La Candeur, blushing. “That’s how things happened … At the beginning, I was the one who didn’t have any money, and I knew that Vladimir did. It’s sad to travel without money.” I suggested to Vladimir that I play him my tie pin, which is the last souvenir I have left of my sister who died cursing me. “Why did your sister curse you, Candour? ” “Because I had become a journalist! You understand that I didn’t care much for that souvenir. I had gotten rid of all the others. I thought it was a good opportunity for my tie pin. But that will be for another time, because as you see, I didn’t lose it! ” “And with it you won all of Vladimir’s money?” Tell me, how much… –I’ll tell you… I’ll tell you… we started by playing a little game… a very little game… My pin is worth seventy-five francs… Vladimir played it for twenty-five!… it was hardly… the misfortune, for Vladimir, is that from twenty-five, to fifty, to a hundred… (for Vladimir is wrong to pursue his money, I’ve told him so often) I won him everything he had in his pocket… Now, as I ‘m not a boor, I play him some of the notes he makes me. Apparently , he still has money to collect on the invention of his breastplate! –Candeur, you’re going to tell me how much you won from Vladimir! –What does that matter to you? –The fact is that I don’t know where that money comes from… –Since it comes from the breastplate!… [See The Black Castle]. “Enough, how much?” La Candeur, growing more and more scarlet, said: “I don’t know exactly anymore…” and he decided to rummage in one of his pockets from which he took out three or four banknotes of one hundred levas (francs). “That’s not all!” said Rouletabille. “No,” grunted La Candeur, “here’s more…” And this time he took out five banknotes of five hundred levas. “Blimey! You’re sitting down! Is that all? ” “I think that’s all,” whispered the good giant, turning his head away. But Rouletabille rushed towards him, searched him, and emptied him of an incredible quantity of banknotes that he had piled up haphazardly in the fever of gambling and that he allowed to be taken away with sighs like bellows in a forge… Rouletabille counted: There were forty thousand levas (forty thousand francs) there! Rouletabille looked at La Candeur, but La Candeur didn’t dare look at Rouletabille. “It’s the first time I’ve been lucky!” he stammered. “Wait!” said Rouletabille, in a slightly oppressed voice, for he hadn’t expected to unwrap this small fortune. “Wait. We ‘ll talk about your luck later. ” And he added: “So that’s what you always offered those gentlemen at the Château Noir, a ransom of forty thousand francs!” “Why, yes,” moaned La Candeur; “I have a good heart!” ” With other people’s money, it’s easy to have a good heart,” Vladimir said. At that time, I still had almost all my money in my pocket, but La Candeur did not hesitate to dispose of it as if it were already in his own!… –It was for the good of the community, replied La Candeur… –You have a good heart, Rouletabille growled, but I wonder if, deep down, you You are not as scoundrel as Vladimir!… “Sir,” said Vladimir, rising, “I affirm that you cause me great pain!” And he wanted to slip away, but Rouletabille held him back and asked him in a dry tone, which made the young Slav turn pale: “Where does the money come from?” “Sir, I assure you that it comes quite honestly from the sale of the invention of my cuirass… I got this cuirass from one of my friends in Kiev, who spent more than ten years of his life inventing it, perfecting it , and finally making it a true object of military art for which he spent a veritable fortune. Despairing, during Russia’s last battle with Japan, at not having been able to sell his cuirass to the Russian government, he entered the censorship offices in Odessa and gave me the fruit of his vigils and the cause of all his misfortunes. More favored than he, sir… Rouletabille interrupted him. “Enough, Vladimir Petrovitch!… I swear to you that if you don’t tell me how you got all this money, I’ll hand you over to the Bulgarian authorities, bound hand and foot! You’ll tell them the story of your breastplate.” Vladimir saw that the laughing was over and began, sighing like a sick child: “Well, I’ll tell you the truth!… It’s much less serious than you think, and this whole affair happened, my God! almost without my noticing. ” “Go!” Rouletabille thought: “He’s capable of anything! Provided he hasn’t murdered anyone! ” Candor, with a desolate melancholy and a growing anxiety, looked out of the corner of her eye at those beautiful notes whose possession had caused her so much joy and which were now the cause of a difficult explanation which, certainly, he would have very happily done without. Vladimir began: “Remember, sir, that day when, in Sofia, as you were leaving the Vilitchkov Hotel , you found us, La Candeur and me, wrapped up in makeshift clothes because of the cold. La Candeur had a blanket and I, sir, had a fur, a magnificent fur, a fur that you admired, sir… ” “Yes, the fur of a friend of yours, you told me, the fur of a princess… I remember it very well,” said Rouletabille, frowning terribly… “Afterwards?” Vladimir was completely terrified. “Oh! sir,” he cried, “you won’t believe I sold it!… ” “Ah! You didn’t sell it?… ” “Sir, what do you take me for? ” “What did you do with it?” “Mind you,” Vladimir continued, blinking his heavy eyelids and cooing in his sweetest voice, “for he was gradually recovering, and having made a quick examination of his conscience, he had doubtless come to ask himself why he had tried to conceal an act which did not seem so reprehensible to him… Mind you, sir, I could have sold her! Don’t cry out! You know the princess? ” “Yes… er!… I caught a glimpse of her… ” “Oh! You spoke to her… ” “It was she who spoke to me … I remember bumping into a tall, gangly old lady on your landing with fire-colored hair who seemed a little mad and who was leaving your house without a coat, and with her hat in disarray on her hairpiece which had lost all balance. ” “Oh!” Monsieur Rouletabille, what did the princess do to you to make you treat her like this?… –She simply said this to me, my dear Monsieur Vladimir: It is indeed Monsieur Rouletabille to whom I have the pleasure of speaking?… Vladimir has spoken to me a great deal about you. I beg you! Allow me to introduce myself to you! I am an old friend of Vladimir’s family and I am interested in this boy who has a lot of talent and who sends such lovely articles to the newspaper L’Époque de Paris, I swear! –The princess told you that? said Vladimir, who, this time, had blushed down to the roots of my hair. “Of course…” I even replied: “Why, madam… it’s Vladimir who writes my articles and I’m the one who takes Vladimir’s articles to the post office! ” “God, that’s funny!” Vladimir said rather nonchalantly. “To find out if it’s funny, I’ll wait for the rest of the story…” Rouletabille declared in a threatening voice. Called to order, Vladimir coughed and continued: “I was telling you, about this fur, that it would have been up to me to sell it, because after all, the princess—Princess Kochkaref… of the famous Kochkaref family of Kiev… the Kochkarefs are well known…” “Come on!… but come on then… ” “Because after all, the princess, who is an old friend of my family and who wishes me well, told me more than once, while I was admiring this magnificent coat: Vladimir, if you want it, my friend, it’s yours! ” “Little wretch!” Rouletabille snapped… “Ah! Monsieur, calm down, I don’t eat that kind of bread!” Vladimir interrupted with an admirable expression of disgust! “That is what, each time she spoke thus, I made the princess understand, who, seeing that she offended my natural feelings, was kind enough not to insist. But this is what happened. This coat was the object of jealousy among some of the princess’s friends, who were discussing its price in a very unpleasant way and who would not believe that she had paid fifty thousand rubles for it to a Moscow merchant… because of which the princess had said to me: “Vladimir, to silence these scamps, you should one day or another take my fur to the nail, have it appraised, refuse of course the price that they would offer you, and come back with my coat, proclaiming the sum that they were prepared to advance you for it!… That is what the princess had told me, and that is what I did, sir, nothing else!… I swear!… ” “And I, I swear that I don’t understand very well,” said Rouletabille. –You will understand, sir, and you would have already understood if your impatience did not make you interrupt me all the time… Here is the thing… It is simple… The very day of our departure from Sofia, when you announced to us that we were leaving for a great and long expedition, what was my first impulse?… My first impulse was to run to the princess to get rid of this precious coat, which I did not want to keep under my responsibility any longer; chance would have it that I took the very street where the Mont-de-Piété is located, and that, finding myself opposite this institution which had been so often discussed between the princess and me, I began to think: Look! Here is the opportunity to have the coat appraised! I went in. I was offered to lend me the value of 43,000 francs!… –And you accepted?… –No, sir, I refused. I said: No! –So? –Then, I don’t know by what fate, the employee, who was doubtless distracted, understood that I was answering him: Yes. And that’s how they lent me 43,000 levas without me even having time to protest! –But you had time to collect them!… –Don’t judge me badly, sir. On leaving the pawnshop, my first concern was to send the princess her gratitude! –Ah! ah! You sent her gratitude back… repeated Rouletabille, stupid in the face of such prodigious nerve… –Yes, sir, it’s as I told you! I sent her gratitude back, and so she can take off her coat whenever she wants! –Yes! I hope that the good lady will be grateful to you for such a delicate attention!… –She will not fail to do so, sir, I know her… –And that she will thank you for having thought of such a tiny detail… –Sir, between you and me, I owed her that much!… –But you also owe her the 43,000 francs! “Who denies it? Sir. At the same time that I sent her my gratitude, which she could show to her friends, which would be, as she wished, a reason for triumph, I warned her that, leaving that very evening, I did not have time to call on her, but that I would bring her this money as soon as I returned to Sofia! “Brigand! You used this money as if it belonged to you! ” “Eh! Sir, the first thing I did was, because of my good heart, to lend fifteen hundred levas to Candeur and then to divert fifteen hundred for myself, which allowed us both to appear before you with suitable equipment. ” “Not content with paying for your belongings with money that did not belong to you , you gambled the rest and lost it!… ” “Eh, sir, that is why you see me so annoyed!” Losing your own money is nothing, but other people’s money can cause you a lot of trouble! Rouletabille turned to La Candeur. “You wouldn’t want to keep this stolen money?” he said. “And why?” La Candeur replied with tears in his voice. “I didn’t steal this money! I earned it honestly, it’s mine!” Rouletabille only responded to this selfish and unscrupulous word with a look of contempt that made La Candeur bow his head. Finally, the leader of the expedition made the wad of bills disappear into his pocket. “Ah! my God!” moaned the giant, “I’ll never see them again.” “No, you won’t see them again, mourn them! I’ll give them to Princess Kochkaref myself, when we return to Sofia!” Vladimir declared in his turn in a plaintive voice, not devoid of bitterness: “Since you think I’ve done wrong, sir, it’s still the best solution. In the end, whether this lady’s money is in your pocket or in La Candeur’s, isn’t the result the same for me? ” “But for me, you scoundrel! Do you think it’s the same thing?” La Candeur yelped, jumping on Vladimir. Rouletabille had to separate them. “Excuse me, Rouletabille,” said poor La Candeur, letting himself fall onto his camp bed, which immediately collapsed. “It was the first time I’d won!” Rouletabille left without replying, stiff as a judge. When he returned to his tent, he found Athanase Khetew, awake, who had heard everything. “You did well,” the Bulgarian told him, “to take all that money from them .” It will be of use to us in these times! And he turned back to the canvas to continue his interrupted nap. Rouletabille was left with his arms dangling, then he recovered, lay down and fell asleep, saying to himself: –I really haven’t understood anything about the Slavic soul yet! Chapter 3. THE COMITADJIS The next morning, the little troop continued to move towards the Southeast. –It seems to me that we are getting far away from the army, said Rouletabille. –I gave you my word that we will find it in time, replied Athanase. –And Gaulow! Ivana’s guttural voice shouted to him. –We will find him too, Ivana!… my riders have left me to do good work… When they have reliable news of Kara-Selim, they will let me know… rest assured!… She lashed out at her beast and took the lead, without replying. Athanase walked sometimes far ahead of the band and sometimes behind. He seemed even more gloomy and preoccupied than usual. Suddenly Rouletabille’s attention was caught by a figure he had not yet seen. This new personage must have joined the muleteers at the first hour of the day. He was an old man who struck by a certain air of majesty, although he was dressed in rags and walked with his head bowed, as if lost in a dream… Rouletabille approached Athanase: “Who is it?” he asked. “It’s the good man Cyrille, famous for his misfortunes.” “He does indeed seem very unhappy,” said Rouletabille. “No, now he is filled with joy… He was able to escape from the prisons of Anatolia and has returned to the country he had not seen since the Battle of Independence. ” “And why is he coming with us?” “Because,” replied Athanasius rather mysteriously, “because there are reasons why he should come with me…” But he did not dwell on the effect produced by these last words and continued: “There is a man!… One can say so: a man who saw the world in his youth, who lived in Bessarabia, in Odessa, in Galatz, in Bucharest, finally abroad, and who returned to his homeland when he understood what man was born for, that is to say, for freedom.” He once worked with Levisky in organizing a revolutionary committee and, to be free in his actions, he killed his wife who opposed his patriotic demonstrations. Finally, he knew my father, who was also one of those men… –You should have him ride on one of our mules… –No, the mules are already too laden, and besides, here we are … –Where?… Athanase replied singularly: –In a place that will interest you… you can then write a fine article… Didn’t you come to us for that?… And, as they emerged into a clearing, at the edge of a dark pine forest, a gesture from Athanase stopped the muleteers… And this is what Rouletabille saw: The good man Cyrille had fallen to his knees, at the sight of a village, which could be seen below, through the branches. With what emotion he seemed to see again, after so many years in Turkish prisons, this mass of poor hovels with yellowish stone foundations, lime-coated wattle and daubs, and flat roofs! A little further on, there was a miserable wooden bridge thrown across the torrent. Suddenly, he tore himself away from this contemplation and stood up, seeing an old man, bent by years like himself, who was painfully climbing the hill with a rifle on his shoulder. “Ivan!” he cried. At this voice, the other approached cautiously. He did not recognize this face, but Cyril named himself and the two old men fell into each other’s arms. “That one,” said Athanasius, “is Ivan, the wheelwright, who also knew my father.” And he gave details about Ivan with great volubility and evident jubilation. The characteristic of Athanase, which Rouletabille was beginning to unravel, was in this continual opposition of a slyness which came to him from his long profession as a spy and a sudden frankness which clearly manifested his feelings, until then most hidden. Then, Athanase conversed in a low voice with the two old men who greeted the travelers and soon disappeared behind the black trunks of the dried-up forest. Athanase waited a few minutes, then he said to the young men: “Now, follow me in silence and you will not have wasted your time if you have true human hearts.” The singularity with which Athanase expressed himself, the light which shone in his eyes and on his forehead had struck the reporter. “What does he mean? We have never seen him like this…” said La Candeur, not very reassured. “He looks like an apostle,” said Rouletabille. “I don’t like apostles,” replied the other. “I bet we’re going to see something funny,” said Vladimir. Ivana was silent. They followed Athanasius deep into the forest, moving away to the left of the village that could still be seen from time to time at the bottom of the hill. When they reached a sort of ravine, Athanasius made them stay still, motionless, and silent. They didn’t wait long. First, half a dozen Bulgarian hunters appeared, who seemed equipped to kill people of all types of animal bodies. Among them, there were There was a young man with scarlet cheeks who seemed very shy and in whose hands was placed a flag embroidered with Slavic words which meant: Liberty or death!! One of the hunters, after speaking to Athanase, climbed onto a rock and whistled in a certain way. From then on, everyone remained completely silent, until a sort of priest appeared, coming out of a bush. Athanase bowed and everyone bowed before the priest who considered Rouletabille and his troop for some time, and who ended by smiling, showing his dazzling teeth. This priest had on his pastoral belt a crucifix and two enormous pistols and a magnificent scimitar which dated at least from the time of Sultan Selim. His name was Goïo. Vladimir translated all the exchanged remarks to Rouletabille, from which it resulted that great joy had already spread through the village at the news that the armies had crossed the border. Among the comitadjis, there was also talk of a certain Dotchov whose name seemed to make all brains boil and also of a certain swineherds’ meadow whose terms: svinartka lenki, came up every moment in the conversation like a leitmotif. The small troop grew constantly; Bulgarians arrived from everywhere, it was as if they were coming out of the earth, falling from the trees. Father Goïo was moving about in the middle of them and, to make himself better heard, spoke while waving the crucifix in one hand and one of his pistols in the other. This brave ecclesiastic had a special way of catechizing the faithful. He asked the young man who carried the flag and who was a neophyte: “How many Turks do you intend to kill? How many cartridges have you made? If you have made less than three hundred, you will not have communion. Have you greased your weapons well? Prepared biscuits?” And as they laughed around him, he declared, turning to the troop: “That is how I have been confessing for two months! ” “When we have liberated Thrace, we will make you exarch!” cried Ivan the Wheelwright. “There is already one in Constantinople!” he replied. “Two suns cannot exist at the same time. But the devil take the one who made me a priest!
” Thereupon, he took from his pocket a piece of white cloth which he hung around his neck, by which they recognized that it was a flap; He took Sultan Selim’s saber in one hand, pointed to Christ with the other, while he still had a pistol under one arm, and explained in a thunderous voice to the neophyte the sanctity of the oath. The neophyte swore. All swore and cried out: “At last the blood shed in Thrace will be avenged!” After that, Athanasius uttered a few words that met with acclaim from all walks of life, and he said: “Now, let’s go to the swineherds’ meadow!” They all repeated in their own language: “Let’s go to the swineherds’ meadow!” The whole band set off, waving their weapons. Only Athanasius, who came last, affected great reverence. “What comedy are we going to?” Rouletabille wondered. Ivana followed the events with deceptive indifference. Vladimir repeated: “You’ll see it’s going to be fun!” Candeur cautiously pulled her horse by the bridle, for they passed through unusual paths to reach the swineherds’ meadow. Finally they reached it, that famous meadow. It was quite far from the village and in a wild and gloomy place, dominated by steep hills. A torrent made its wicked music heard between a double row of trees which, leaning over the river, one towards the other, seemed to be telling each other terrible stories that made them shudder. There was a bridge there which everyone crossed in silence and they stopped on the other bank, under the trees. “We will camp here,” said Athanase to Rouletabille. “That is where I have business. ” “What business and why did all these people accompany us?” “It’s because they want to offer us supper and rejoice with us in the good work that is being prepared.” And he turned to the others and shouted excitedly in Bulgarian : “Look, here come the women with the lambs, and the swineherds with the pigs… But here comes the master of the swineherds’ meadow, one Dotchov himself, who is, by Jove, as you see, a very respectable old man. Another one who saw the Battle of Independence and who knew my good man as a father. Dotchov is accompanied by his good friend Ivan the Wheelwright. They fought together in the past, are preparing for new battles, and can rejoice in our company. Advance, advance, you respectable old men!” Vladimir, while translating Athanasius’s Bulgarian speeches, could not help repeating to Rouletabille: “What is he preparing?” This isn’t going to be an ordinary affair! The most mentally ill person seems to me to be Athanasius… Look, look how kind he is to this old Dotchov, whom he puts in the center, in the place of honor, and yet he looks at him with eyes that kill. Meanwhile, the fires had been lit and the lambs were being prepared a la heidouk, that is to say, with their skins on, whole, in the holes heated like a baker’s oven. And the women who had come from the village were beginning to dance the choro, to the sound of the gaida. “You see, my old friend, how merry we are,” Ivan the Wheelwright was saying to old Dotchov, who, sitting Turkish-style, in the center of the group, seemed to be presiding over the party. “Why don’t they kill my pigs?” said Dotchov; “I had my swineherds bring them to fatten the party.” “It’s Athanasius who doesn’t want to,” replied Ivan the Wheelwright. “I asked him the reason; he told me that he didn’t think they were fat enough for such a celebration yet!” “But what celebration is it, really?” asked Dochov again! “Ask Athanasius! Ask Athanasius!” Athanasius, summoned, replied: “We’ll tell you over raki. But first, tell us a story about the time when you and my father made cannons out of cherry wood! ” “Yes, yes,” said Dochov. “Ah! We made all sorts of them with your father. We made cannons with whatever we could and went to the villages to sing: ‘Rise, rise, hero of the Balkan!’ Your father sang well… ” “And my mother liked cabbage soup! But the pigs preferred my father’s ears!” “Obviously! obviously!” “No, sir,” Dochov agreed, disturbed by the frantic way in which that Athanasius had said it… “Obviously, it’s a great pity that the pigs ate your father’s ears!… But you shouldn’t look at me like that. You know very well that I couldn’t do anything to stop them!… And then, after all,” Dochov continued, shaking his noble old man’s head and raising his arms to heaven, “I don’t know why they’re talking to me about this affair again!… It’s kept me awake long enough!… And why Ivan the Wheelwright dragged me all the way here!… And why are you sitting me down opposite the bridge in the swineherds’ meadow!… All this is not cheerful for someone who has suffered what I have suffered!… You could just let me die in peace without reminding me of all this!… I was so sad enough about your father’s death! Ask Ivan the Wheelwright!” I wept for days and days and I told the bashi-buzouks about it!… Come on, let’s be reasonable and eat!… “We are going to eat,” replied Athanase, “but we are still waiting for a guest. “Who?” “Look over there, the one who is coming towards the bridge… ” “He’s an old beggar who isn’t from the area, I don’t know him… ” “Yes… yes… you know him… but he’s come from so far away… from so far away… Luckily I found him on my way, otherwise he wouldn’t have found his way back… and I invited him for this evening, convinced that no meeting would be as pleasant to you, old Dotchov!” –On the Blessed Virgin, I don’t recognize him… Tell him he’s coming. Then Athanasius goes to look for the beggar and leads him back by the hand to the old bridge of the swineherds’ meadow. Certainly, deep in the prisons of Anatolia, the beggar had thought he would never see him again, that memorable bridge, made of two planks and a rotten crosspiece. By the hand, Athanasius brings the old man in rags before the kind and venerated Dochov, who blinks: –No, no, I don’t recognize him! –Don’t you recognize good Cyril, famous for his misfortunes? Dochov, at these words, stood up, terribly pale; nevertheless, he had the strength to press the ragged man to his heart with the joy of a father finding his child. –Praise God, Cyril, I have found you. We thought you were dead! And I mourned you for a long time, faithful companion of my youth!… Dotchov sits down again, for his old legs no longer have the strength to support him after such an emotion! “But speak! speak!” he said to Cyril. “Tell us your story. So you too escaped the bashi-buzouks? I thought they shot you that cursed day… ” “Is this the time to speak?” Cyril asked Athanasius. “After the mutton…” said Athanasius. Then Athanasius has the mutton served. Father Goyo has cut off a piece with the Sultan’s scimitar and is devouring it after a quick sign of the Orthodox cross. Dotchov has made a place near him for Cyril, famous for his misfortunes. And, while cutting up the fragrant meat with their fingers, they told each other twenty anecdotes from the time they roamed the great woods of the Balkan and Istrandja to escape the bashi-buzouks. Finally, there was a distribution of raki; the girls who were dancing the choro stopped and the gaida fell silent. “Now is the moment! Now is the moment!” said Vladimir, pushing Rouletabille to the forefront… Rouletabille was astonished: “These Bulgarians seem quite at home. Where are the Turkish authorities of the village? Aren’t they afraid of them? ” “No,” replied Vladimir hastily, “the authorities are dead. They killed the kouet yesterday, and five zaptiés. They are now at home, among themselves, and all ready, men, women, children, to take to the mountains.” Tonight , before leaving the village, they must burn it so as not to leave this task to the Turks… at least that’s what I understood, because I wanted to know why they were so cheerful… But listen!… listen!… it’s now that Athanasius’s affair begins!… Oh! look at Athanasius!… Indeed, standing behind the priest, Athanasius, who was looking at old Dotchov, was a terrible sight. Ah! it was a beautiful face of a hungry animal watching its prey! They formed a circle around Cyril who was about to tell a story about the Battle of Independence and who was wiping his mustache and freeing his mouth. “First,” he began, “you remember, Dotchov, that a terrible storm arose in the mountains during the night, and the wind blew into the hut where Ivan the Wheelwright, Athanasius’s father, and I had taken refuge to escape the bashi-buzouks after the comitadjis had dispersed. This wind blew so hard through the hole that let the smoke out that the fireplace was knocked over, shattered, and the hut caught fire. We had to evacuate it and spend the night in the rain and hail. Then three shepherds came to find us under a birch tree and, after feeding and warming us, urged us to go to another chalet where we would find hospitality. We followed the bed of the torrent, you remember, and the icy water made us shiver… you remember… you remember?” “As if it were yesterday,” said the other old man, nodding his head and shivering as if he were still in the water… “that’s when I fell into a trout hole and nearly drowned…” –Exactly, but we couldn’t always follow the bed of the torrent; and then the prints of our footsteps betrayed us to the bashi-buzouks… that very clearly. –Very clearly! That’s what I always said… –Further on, we met a bear. –Ah! yes, the bear… I see the bear. –He was looking for ant eggs and he was astonished to see us. –I remember… quite astonished… –Ah! ah! cried Ivan the Wheelwright, coming closer… the bear!… I threw a stick at his legs and he was well caught… We couldn’t shoot him, you think!… –Finally we finally arrived at the chalet… The shepherd Neia had accompanied us… Remember… remember, Dotchov… –Yes, yes! Neia! The shepherd Neia! We often spoke of him with Ivan. Poor Neia! –We can feel sorry for him… When he arrived at the chalet, Neia had stuck a thorn in his foot; that, we must remember. –Yes, yes… –He even told us that he was unlucky… that the Turks had beaten him more than twenty-five times, that they had made him kneel five times, to cut off his head… and that they had stripped him fifteen times of everything he owned… But he was especially tormented by having gone to church so little… and Athanasius’s father then said to him: Console yourself, Neia, after such a life you could easily become a saint and a martyr! And he replied: Especially with my thorn in your foot! Now do you remember what happened because of that thorn? –Well, no, Cyril… –Well! You must remember… It was because of her that Neia was unable to go to the village for provisions, and who risked going to the village? It was you, Dotchov! –Of course! Someone had to volunteer… –Sure, it couldn’t have been Athanase’s father, whose head had been priced : 10,000 piastres!… –Oh! I remember, I brought back milk, bread, and tobacco! –And you were cheerful and you began to sing while smoking your chibouk because, you said, the danger was over and you brought good news: the bashi-buzouks had abandoned the mountain and the road was clear to the Northwest. And then Serbia was entering the campaign and Russia was arriving. Finally! We had everything going for us!… Only, we had to go and join the fighters. The next day, we set off with a cheerful step; We left the shepherd behind us, without suspecting anything. “Yes, it was Neia who betrayed us, I killed him with my own hand,” said Dochov, at the first opportunity. “We must, indeed, kill traitors, Dochov…” So we set off . At the head, as always, came Athanasius’s father, who was a proud man, then Ivan the Wheelwright, then me, Cyril, you, Dochov. You walked last, but it was you who told us which way to go, and that’s how we arrived in front of the swineherds’ meadow, from which we were separated by the torrent… Then you shouted to Athanasius, father of this Athanasius here: “We must go to the other side if we don’t want to meet any more bashi-buzuks! We must cross the footbridge! Is that true?… That footbridge over there in the swineherds’ meadow! Is that true, Dochov?” –But of course it’s true!… Ivan is here to say it as well as you… I’ve only ever given good advice… –The footbridge looked new, it was made up of two beams and a crosspiece; we stepped onto it; but it immediately gave way under our feet, and you, who were last, were able to easily get out of it, because you immediately ran away, in a frantic manner, behind a tree trunk that was lying some distance away. –Certainly, I was running away because gunshots were being fired… Is that true?… –It’s true… we had no sooner set foot on this footbridge that more than twenty rifle shots were coming from a nearby wood… The order to fire had been given in Turkish. The bashi-buzouks had fortunately missed us. Ivan managed to escape; I had slipped into the cold water; the bullets were still whistling. What had become of Athanase? I couldn’t tell. I managed, however, to get out of the water, to throw myself into a thicket. Never in my life had I been so afraid. I thought I was saved. I said my prayers. It was only twenty-four hours later that the bashi-buzouks found me again . What were you doing during that time, Dochov, what were you doing?… “I had hidden myself like a rabbit,” replied the old man without any apparent trouble , “in a cave hole where I felt as comfortable as in a Wallachian tavern, but from where, alas! I witnessed the death of poor Athanasius. It will be the greatest sorrow of my life… –Tell me, Dochov, how Athanasius died… –He died as I am going to tell you, and this on Saint George and the saints, it was as follows: Athanasius, who had fallen into the torrent, also managed to get out without being seen by the bashi-buzouks and he climbed in front of me into a large beech tree… All those who were there pointed to the beech tree on the other bank, saying: –That beech tree… that beech tree!… –As you see, resumed the good Dochov, the tree is very tall! Well hidden, Athanasius could wait for the right moment to escape. The bashi-buzouks, furious, beat the swineherds’ meadow, the countryside, the woods, the ravine… Unfortunately, one of them returned with his dog and this dog went straight to the tree. The dog began to bark. The bashi-buzouks raised their heads and saw Athanasius. They began to shoot at him like a crow, and soon Athanasius toppled over and crashed to the foot of the tree. Misfortune would have it, one of the swineherds happened to pass by with two pigs. The bashi-buzouks cut off Athanasius’s ears and gave one to each pig to eat… then, as night was falling, they left after stripping the corpse. I crept up to my friend’s remains and buried them as best I could, digging the earth with my bayonet. So died Athanasius, father of this Athanasius! “Dotchov, Dotchov,” said the deep, grave voice of the beggar Cyril. ” All this is quite true, for I too saw how things happened! “Where were you?” asked Dotchov, worried. “I was in the tree, with Athanasius!” Dotchov half-rose on his cushions, as if lifted by an inner force that pushed him towards Cyril, from whom he could no longer look away. His trembling lips tried to let out a few words, but those around him heard only a hoarse breath like that which precedes the death rattle. At the same moment, the priest who was behind Dotchov pressed on his shoulders and made him fall back into place; then, placing a hand on the head of the lamentable old man, he pronounced: “We are in the hand of death! Death is like the fisherman who, having caught a fish in his net, leaves it for a while longer in the water! The fish is still swimming, but it is in the net and the fisherman will seize it when he pleases. ” “Go on, Cyril,” came the icy voice of Athanasius the younger. “Yes, I was in the tree before Athanasius himself had taken refuge there,” Cyril continued. “I had managed, like him, to hide in the branches of the beech tree, but no one knew anything about it, and when Athanasius had fallen, they left me alone, and I was able to see and hear without danger. Now this is what I saw and heard: Dochov came out of his hiding place and joined the bashi-buzouks who were calling him. Dochov reproached the bashi-buzouks for having given the ears of Athanasius, Athanasius’s father, to the pigs in the swineherds’ meadow. The others laughed and asked him: “Tell us, old rascal, when you told them to take the path to the footbridge, didn’t the giaours of the committee suspect anything?” And Dochov replied: “Nothing at all, they were so happy that they would have followed me to the ends of the earth! ” At these words from Cyril, the crowd surrounding Dochov uttered words of death and Dochov, seeing that all was lost, fell to his knees and hid his head in his hands. The priest said: “The whole mountain has eyes and ears for traitors, but traitors will no longer have eyes or ears! ” “From my beech to the accursed footbridge,” said Cyril, “it is barely a hundred paces.” I heard everything that was said. They congratulated themselves on having had this footbridge built to lure the apostle into the trap into which he was to succumb. Dotchov is a traitor who has shamelessly delivered us to our cruelest enemies, the enemies of the committees. I have returned from the depths of the prisons of Anatolia to tell you all this and to tell him. Dotchov, pray to the soul of Saint George to forgive you! Dotchov then removed his hands from his face and Rouletabille could see that he was flooded with tears of repentance. “George, forgive me,” prayed Dotchov, “I have sinned. Pray to God for my black soul.” And as he said these words, he kissed the cross the priest held out to him and struck the ground with his forehead. He no longer trembled; his face had brightened. “For countless years, I was a lost man; I could no longer sleep. Now, it seems to me that I have confessed and taken communion. Beat me if you wish and kill me; I deserved it… Then Athanasius made a sign and the swineherds brought the two pigs that needed to be fattened. “If you want my saber,” the priest said to Athanasius, “take it, I’ll hold this man’s head while you cut off his ears… ” “I have no need of your saber, reverend father,” replied Athanasius. “The pigs will eat Dochov’s ears alive! ” “Very well, son, I understand,” replied the priest. “What you found there isn’t bad ! ” But Dochov too had understood and he cried out in despair, beating his chest, saying that he had deserved death, but not such torture. “Never,” he affirmed about Saint George and Saint Sophia, “never would he have delivered up the fugitives if the bashi-buzouks had not tortured him himself, put his feet in the fire, which had made him accept and promise everything, but with a heavy heart! Confession,” he added, “has freed my soul from the weight of sin… I have the right to die in peace!” He said and struggled, but Ivan the Wheelwright on one side and Cyril the Beggar on the other undertook him so well that one of the pigs that had been approached was able to seize his ear and, with a frightful grunt, pull that ear towards him after closing the vice of its horrible jaws. Dotchov howled as one should howl in hell and Athanasius, impassive, watched. As for Rouletabille and La Candeur, they fled in terror from this scene of savagery; but they were almost immediately stopped in their retreat by unexpected clamors. Night had long since fallen and they saw shadows running madly in the light of the fires, around the torrent. They understood that, thanks to the darkness, Dotchov, in a supreme effort, had escaped his executioners and had gone, like the committees of old, to seek refuge on the side of the ravine. Then they approached to see what would become of the unfortunate old man. Dotchov seemed to have gotten ahead, and, far from the camp, almost in the dead of night, the Bulgarians were calling to each other with shouts, giving rapid, panting directions, interspersed with gunshots that made the waters of the torrent shine. By the light of one of these gunshots, Rouletabille recognized Vladimir who appeared to be one of the most relentless pursuers, alongside Athanase. “Ah! he’s more Bulgarian than they are!” Rouletabille said in horror. “When I tell you, Rouletabille! That we will never understand these people and that we would do better to return to Paris, of course!” Suddenly, it appeared that the Bulgarians had found Dotchov’s trail again… The camp emptied; men, women, children, all rushed in the direction of the village, still firing rifle and revolver shots into the air as if for a joyous celebration. It was true that they had found Dotchov almost at the entrance to the village where he had his house, in which he ran to barricade himself, calling his servants for help. A vain and last effort. Athanasius himself entered the house from which the servants had fled, and, by the light of a large fire lit in the square, the reporters could see him drag the bleeding old man to a window; Dochov, whose face was now nothing but a horrible mixture of flesh and blood, again raised his arms to heaven, begging for mercy, but Athanasius blew his skull off with a revolver, then threw the corpse out of the window to the crowd, who tore it to pieces. [We owe it to the truth to say that committees are not always so merciless in their vengeance and that, in an almost similar circumstance, Zachariah Stoyanov, who was to become president of the Sobranie, pardoned the repentance of his former companion.] Chapter 4. THE POMAKS AND THE AGHA Rouletabille and La Candeur had hurried back to the swineherds’ meadow where they found Ivana sitting quietly by the stream. She had witnessed the famous scene and showed no sign of emotion. She continued: “This Athanase Khetew is truly a man! Truly a man! He will go far!”
Rouletabille was only too happy to leave this land of savages. He had the tents quickly folded. “We haven’t come so far,” he said, to dwell on the little family stories of Mr. Athanase Khetew! Vladimir appeared at this moment. He brought news of Athanase. He begged the young men not to wait for him. They could return to Almadjik on their own; nothing stood in the way . They would fall into the current of the Bulgarian army and would only have to report to the headquarters of the first brigade they encountered. Ivana had come closer… Extraordinary thing! She seemed worried. “What has happened to Athanase Khetew?” she asked. “Quite simply, one of his riders came to join him, whispered in his ear, and they both left in a hurry, after throwing me the instructions I gave you…” Vladimir explained. “Which route did they take?” Ivana asked feverishly. “Through the forest! And Vladimir was pointing the way south… ” “Let’s run after him and try to catch up with him!” she cried, leaping onto her horse. “And why is that, please?” Rouletabille asked very sharply. “Hey, my dear fellow, because he’ll certainly have heard from Gaulow! Down with Gaulow, Rouletabille! The southern route brought him closer to the armies; Rouletabille saw no problem in following Ivana’s lead. “We’ll see how far your treachery goes,” he murmured. But they had not walked for an hour on impossible paths, when they all had to stop at the request of the muleteers. It was then a very dark night. One could not see a thing. “What is happening then?” he asked Vladimir… but immediately some resin torches were lit and he noticed that the small troop was surrounded by a whole band of pomaks, who, with their long rifles, were adopting the attitude of bandits. At their sight, Rouletabille had ordered everyone to arm themselves; and, himself, had seized a rifle. But Vladimir calmed him with a gesture and spoke for a few moments with the one who seemed to be in charge of all these nasty people. “What are they saying?” asked Rouletabille, impatiently. “They say,” explained Vladimir, “that, having been warned of our passage, they quickly came down from their village, which is at the top of the mountain, to warn us that the country is not safe. ” “That’s obvious,” said Rouletabille. “For nothing in the world would they want anything bad to happen to us, because, as we are in the district of their village, the agha would hold them responsible for the disaster that always comes too soon and would bring ruin to their home. ” “So? ” “Well, then they came to protect us against thieves if we are willing to give them a certain sum. ” “Yeah, it depends on the sum,” grumbled Rouletabille. “We agreed,” said Vladimir, “for 1,000 piastres! ” “A thousand piastres, that is to say 10 Turkish pounds? ” “Yes, that will be about 230 francs, that’s not much! ” “You think it’s not much!… It’s still more expensive than at the inn… ” “We’re not at the inn now, take it or leave it. ” “And if we leave it? ” “It will cost us more! ” “The devil! ” “Now they’re bringing us eggs, three hens, and a sheep, and they’re counting on us buying their goods… ” “I’ll buy the eggs and the hens! But what do you want us to do with the sheep? ” “They brought it here for their supper; if we take these men to guard us, we’re obliged to feed them! They want to keep us until tomorrow morning!” “They’ve thought of everything!… But then we’ll have to camp!” “No doubt! And, besides, the roads are so bad that we can hardly hope to make much progress in the middle of the night… and then the animals will be better tomorrow morning… that’s also their opinion that they asked me to convey to you…” “Treat with these good people, since there’s no way to do otherwise, my dear Vladimir… ” The peace treaty was quickly concluded, and, without worrying any more about the travelers, the pomaks began to prepare their meal around a large fire that they lit rather cheerfully. Their black faces laughed in a way that annoyingly impressed La Candeur, who, moreover, could no longer find anything to be cheerful about since he had been relieved of the 40,000 levas he had earned so honestly in Vladimir. “Cristi!” he said, looking at these demons, “I miss the Rue du Sentier, me! Ah!” I had a strange idea coming to this land of misfortune!… “Glory awaits you there!” replied Rouletabille… “Glory and perhaps fortune!” added Vladimir, a malicious tongue. Thus did Homer’s heroes evoke the dear memories of their homeland, in the tent of Achilles, between two battles, on the banks of the Scamander. “It is time to go to bed!” said Rouletabille. Ivana was already in her tent. She too was in a very bad mood, but it was because of the forced stoppage she had suffered in her pursuit of the handsome Gaulow, her husband, after all… The young people and Tondor, as the night before—more than the night before—had to keep watch in turn, because, despite Vladimir’s reassuring words, the proximity of the bandit-guardians seemed disturbing to those who were not used to it… La Candeur and Vladimir decided to lie down under the same tent as Rouletabille. The reporters threw themselves on the mats without undressing. Between them was a shelf overloaded with weapons: rifles and revolvers. Tondor, outside, took the first watch. The eyelids were already closing when, suddenly, there was a tremendous discharge; more than twenty rifle shots rang out a few steps away; the The reporters, quickly on their feet, had heard the bullets whizzing so close that they thought the tent had been pierced. Rouletabille was rushing outside when Tondor appeared. “Don’t bother,” he said, “it’s our guards who are watching! They ‘re shooting like that to keep the thieves away! ” “Tell them to shoot a little further away,” Rouletabille replied. He hadn’t finished this sentence when another discharge whistled in their ears. Candeur had thrown himself flat on his stomach. “Of course! They’re going to kill us,” he moaned. “It’s unbearable!” Rouletabille said. “They want to make their money,” Vladimir explained. He went, however, to parley with the guards, who decided to retreat a few steps, but who continued to fire shots all night long. The reporters couldn’t sleep. In the morning, while the camp was being broken up, the Pomaks expressed new claims, asserting that they had had to repel a whole band of robbers, who would have succeeded, if they had not been there, in slipping into the tents under cover of darkness. Finally, they were finally rid of them with a new distribution of piastres. The road they followed that morning was particularly tiring. They had to climb very steep slopes, descend in zigzags to the edge of real precipices… by goat paths. Nature was becoming more and more hostile. Between two passes, they could see, perched on some rock, a village whose inhabitants sometimes came out to send a bullet at random in the direction of the caravan, no doubt to warn it that it had been signaled and that they were still watching over it. –What a job! cried La Candeur… What a country!… He said nothing else all morning, throwing himself on his horse’s neck as soon as he heard a distant detonation, and only agreeing to detach himself from his beast when Vladimir swore to him that there was no dangerous silhouette on the horizon. “I would not have believed him to be so spiteful,” said Rouletabille. In fact, the gray, muddy, dirty landscape was not at all cheerful, but La Candeur’s soul was at least as desolate. He continued to turn his head away from Vladimir’s jokes, who took a malicious pleasure in teasing him, and he barely replied to Rouletabille, whom he always resented for a virtue that cost him so dearly. Ivana was always in the lead. She even sometimes got far ahead of the reporters despite Rouletabille’s incessant observations. At the stroke of noon, she had completely disappeared when the young people stopped to stretch their legs and eat a bite. “Miss Vilitchkov is gone again! We’ll have to run again to catch her!” grumbled Vladimir. “Oh! She’s an insufferable little girl!” declared La Candeur. “What are you saying?” cried Rouletabille, red as a rooster. “Gentlemen!” whispered Vladimir, “let’s not quarrel and look ahead !” They looked ahead, they looked behind, on all sides… They saw that they were surrounded on all sides by a new band. This time, it wasn’t pomaks with ironic speeches who surrounded them, but Turkish irregular soldiers in the most disparate uniforms he could imagine, and these irregular soldiers regularly took aim at them. Candeur immediately took her handkerchief, which was huge, from her pocket, waved it as a sign of peace, and they began to parley… There was no resistance. Our reporters were led, not far from there, to the center of a small camp that was being set up, and where a very beautiful tent had already been erected, with black designs on white canvas, a tent that was to shelter the leader of this enemy troop. Indeed , as soon as they entered, they saw on some cushions a man for whom everyone showed great deference. A white turban, wide and high as a tiara, surrounded his head. His blue jacket sparkled with silver embroidery, and over his kilt, similar to that of the Highlanders of Scotland, hung a complicated arsenal of small instruments of chased silver, which the ancients used to load their firearms .
Two long pistols were lost in the cashmere scarf that surrounded his waist and a saber hung at his side by a narrow cord of red silk with gold tassels. This man had a great air of nobility and calmly smoked aromatic marijuana in a very expensive hookah. The prisoners saluted him, but he did not deign to return their greeting. Not far from him stood a kind of scribe who had in his hand some kind of tablets and who ordered, in French, the young men to come forward. He was the interpreter. “Gentlemen,” the interpreter told them, “our lord the agha has been charged by the authorities of His Majesty the Sultan to search for and bring back a small troop of French journalists who are spies in Istrandja-Dagh, having crossed our border without any permission.” At these unexpected words, Rouletabille jumped. The reporter immediately spoke up to protest indignantly against the accusation that had been brought against his comrades and him! Sent by their newspaper to do some reporting and, having finished their work in Bulgaria, they had descended into Istrandja-Dagh with no intention of returning to Sofia; even better, they had decided to follow the battle operations with the Turkish armies; where could one see espionage in all this? But, to their great astonishment, the interpreter replied that the agha knew perfectly well that Mr. Rouletabille (he called him by name) had received a mission of trust from Major-General Stanislawoff after the latter had granted him a special audience before his departure!… “Good heavens!” thought Rouletabille! “They are well informed!… They seemed so well informed and so sure of their business that the interpreter did not even take the trouble to translate anything to the agha, who continued to smoke his hookah with a certain air of thinking of something else. Rouletabille turned to Vladimir and said to him: “You who speak Turkish, you should speak to the agha; perhaps he would listen to you? ” “I know a way for him to hear me, without my having to speak to him . Do you want me to try?” “What way?” “Give me a thousand levas. ” “True!” said Rouletabille, do you think so? “Give me a thousand levas…” Rouletabille took the thousand francs requested from the inside pocket of his waistcoat . Vladimir took them and went to place them near the agha on the small shelf that supported his hookah. “If I were the agha,” thought Rouletabille, “I would light my pipe with them!” Vladimir came back near Rouletabille. The agha had not moved. “Well?” asked Rouletabille. “Well, you see, he didn’t hear me. Give me another thousand levas. ” “Here are five hundred! That’s all I have left of the provision I brought from the bank in Sofia… Don’t ask me for anything more!” Vladimir went to place the five hundred levas near the thousand that were already on the shelf. The agha did not move any further. The interpreter had watched this little maneuver with a great air of severity. He finally said to the young men: “Do you take my master for a beggar? ” “You see,” Rouletabille said to Vladimir. “You’re making us do stupid things. The agha is offended. ” “The agha is offended because we don’t offer him a large enough sum and because he’s convinced we still have money left! ” “My word! I don’t have any left!” Rouletabille said. “Yes… you have the forty thousand!…” “Oh! The forty thousand are neither yours nor mine!” Rouletabille replied without much conviction and shaking his head with very little energy. “No!” replied Vladimir, “they are neither yours nor mine, but they belong to La Candeur!” “It’s true!” Rouletabille agreed, as if he had made a great discovery that would clear his conscience. “Offer him those forty thousand francs that are at La Candeur and he’ll leave us alone! Even so, if we don’t offer them to him, he’ll take them anyway ,… because he must be as well informed about what we have in our pockets as about what we did in Sofia!” And he passed the bundle to Vladimir, who went to place it near the hookah. This time, the agha placed his piece of amber on the shelf, took the notes, counted them, smiled at the gentlemen, and informed them through the dragoman that they could leave, that they were free to continue their journey as they wished, and that he prayed to Allah to protect them from any bad encounter. Vladimir left the tent shouting: Long live Candeur! Rouletabille shouting: Long live Turkey! Only Candeur didn’t shout anything at all, and everyone avoided talking about Princess Kochkaref, who had such beautiful furs… Chapter 5. DEATH FIGHT BETWEEN ATHANASE KHETEW AND GAULOW AND WHAT FOLLOWED Rouletabille’s first concern was to hasten the march of the small caravan to catch up with Ivana, whom they had completely lost sight of. He congratulated himself on the luck that had allowed the young girl to escape from the agha’s irregulars, for he thought that for General Vilitchkov’s daughter , things might not have turned out the same way… He absolutely wanted to catch up with Ivana before evening and was upset not to see her silhouette reappear. He jostled Candeur and Vladimir. Ah! while hating Ivana, he still loved her!… –Come on, Vladimir! Come on! A little faster! What are you thinking, my boy!… –I think, sir, replied the young Slav, I think that these people could not have been so well informed about what we did in Sofia, and about our arrival in Istrandja and about my forty thousand francs, except by Marko the Wallachian!… –Again!… cried La Candeur. –He would not have committed such an infamy!… said Rouletabille. –Bah! That would embarrass him!… said Vladimir. –He did not know that you had a fortune on you, pointed out La Candeur. –Yes, he did. He was at my aunt’s house at the same time as me. Only they paid him twenty levas, while they counted out forty thousand for me!… –Devil! said Rouletabille… this is indeed becoming interesting… because, certainly, we had someone against us and around us, in Istrandja… –It’s Marko the Wallachian!… I tell you!… He wanted to have us arrested by the Turks to hinder our connections! and he denounced us!… He will have sent an anonymous denunciation to the authorities of Adrianople or Kirk-Kilissé who notified the agha!… It’s as clear as day!… –It’s evening falling, and we haven’t seen Miss Vilitchkov again… said Rouletabille, pressing the flanks of his beast… –The devil take the young lady! growled La Candeur between her teeth. –Kara-Selim will do!… said Vladimir in a low voice. –Shut up!… if he heard you, Rouletabille would kill you… Suddenly, they heard gunshots, the sound of battle… and, at the end of a narrow defile, the reporters, Rouletabille in the lead, saw flames above a village. Rouletabille ran and ran; the others followed… and all three found Ivana at the entrance to the village, who seemed to be waiting for them… She ordered them to dismount and made them enter hastily into a house whose facade must have given onto the central square, or which, in any case, was not far from it. They ran through several rooms behind her , found a staircase, went up it, and were soon on a terrace against the mentally ill guards from which they They hunkered down to avoid being hit by the bullets raining down on the square from the top of the mosque. From there, flattened as they were, they could not be seen but were placed in the front row to see. At first they saw only this: Athanase grappling with Gaulow!… while around them Bulgarians and bashi-buzouks were engaged in a fierce fight. Let us say at once that the attitude of the young girl, on this occasion, as on many others, seemed more and more suspicious to Rouletabille. She knew that Athanase was grappling with Gaulow and the fierce warrior, the ardent patriot that she was, suddenly agreed to be only a spectator of the fight! She was not going to help Khetew! … And she waited for the young people at the entrance to the village to make them follow a path from where they could see the fight, but who kept them away from it, as if she were afraid of reinforcements for Khetew!… Finally, here is a very extraordinary event! In one of the first encounters that her people, her Bulgarian brothers, had with the Turkish oppressor, Ivana Vilitchkov, was content to watch!… but how she watched! What they saw, moreover, had a truly heroic grandeur. In the beginning night, lit by the flames of the minaret as by a gigantic torch, two men, in the middle of the square, were engaged in a furious combat. They were the center and the pivot of a fierce struggle. Around them, Bulgarian soldiers and bashi-buzouks were shooting each other, tearing each other apart, cutting each other to pieces. There were fifty partial engagements, but only that one was seen! The two heroes, Gaulow and Athanasius, were mounted on horses that seemed animated by the same intolerance as their masters and that bore them against each other with unequaled fury. The two beasts and the two leaders clashed with a rage that seemed bound to annihilate them in an instant. One expected, after the shock that made the ground of the square tremble, that all four would roll and never get up again, and one’s mind was still confounded to see them free themselves to run around this arena of carnage and find themselves with renewed strength! The sabers circled around the heads and fell to mow them down, but the prodigious leaps of the mounts saved the riders from a fatal blow, or a horse would rear up, forming a shield, and it was all over again! One would have said that they were both invulnerable, and both did not stop striking each other. Ivana, panting, watched this joust with a passion that bordered on delirium.
Interjections, inarticulate words, incomprehensible sentences escaped from her rattling throat. In her confusion, she had not noticed that she had seized Rouletabille’s hand and that she was squeezing it with varying degrees of force depending on the phases of the combat. But what horror Rouletabille was plunged into when he suddenly realized that every pressure of that feverish hand, every sigh from that panting throat, was for Gaulow. Yes, while Rouletabille and his companions followed the twists and turns of this terrible battle with an anguish that increased each time Athanase was in greater danger, and with a hope that expressed itself in encouraging exclamations each time the latter seemed to gain the upper hand, Ivana, for her part, shared diametrically opposed emotions . When Gaulow, under an unexpected blow, seemed threatened, she was ready to faint and it was with difficulty that she restrained the cry of her joy when one could believe that everything was over for Athanase. Suddenly, as Gaulow’s horse had just fallen, dragging its rider down with it, she gave a dull groan. In an instant, Athanase, out of the saddle, had thrown himself on the black pasha, saber raised. Gaulow made incredible efforts to free himself from his beast, but there was no arrived at the moment when Athanase struck him down with a terrible blow. The black pasha fell amidst the cries of victory of the Bulgarians, who dragged his remains to the middle of the square, while the bachi-bouzoucks, who were decidedly the worse for it, fled in all directions. La Candeur, Vladimir, Tondor had risen and applauded the triumph of their champion; but Rouletabille was busy supporting Ivana who, without strength, almost dying, had let herself fall into the arms of the reporter and turned a desperate face towards him. ” Ivana,” Rouletabille said to her, “come to yourself!… come to your senses!… It is doubtless joy that is killing you!” … At this fatal word, the young girl gave a painful smile and said nothing… In the square, there was no longer any fighting except around the mosque, where some bashi-bouzoucks had taken refuge and were in danger of being burned alive!… So they were trying to get out, while the Bulgarians, with cries of joy and victory, and just as cruel as the Turks, were throwing them back into the furnace… “Let’s go and congratulate Athanase!” cried La Candeur. “Go then!” said Rouletabille. “Madame is ill, I’ll stay with her… ” “All of you go!” prayed Ivana… in a whisper… “Don’t worry about me…” Now at that moment there was a curious movement in the square… Suddenly the Bulgarians were seen running and grouping together; Those who had dismounted were mounting with feverish haste… a bugle call called the stragglers… a few more shots were fired here and there, then the whole troop, with Athanase Khetew, disappeared… emptied the square, left the village and headed north .
“What does that mean?” asked La Candeur. “It means, my dear fellow, that the Turks must not be far away and that they are returning in force!” replied Rouletabille. “Come on! Out! Let us escape, if there is still time!… A little courage, madame!” he added, turning to Ivana. “You must recover from such a painful emotion!” She still had her heartbroken smile; but with an effort, she had straightened up… He saw her pale as a ghost and staggering… Rouletabille was as pale as she was and he thought: How she loved him, this executioner of her family! And he despised her and hated her and would have liked to hurt her… For he was suffering terribly and she didn’t even seem to notice it. She thought only of the dead man, of that great black, bloody body that had been shot by Athanase and that the soldiers had carried off like a trophy after dragging it hideously around the square. “Quick!” cried Vladimir. ” Here are the bashi-bouzoucks coming out of their mosque… We’re going to have to deal with nothing but Turks from now on… But it was too late to leave… The Turks were already there… The bashi-bouzoucks had returned with a large troop of regulars who were retaking possession of the village with shouts and insults directed at the fleeing enemy. The commander of the Turkish detachment, which had its headquarters in Almadjik, learning from the Ottoman families who had abandoned their village, after having previously massacred the Bulgarian natives, that Stanislawoff’s squadrons had been seen in this region of Istrandja-Dagh and were rushing at a forced march, had reassured the entire population: according to his personal information, he affirmed that the entire Bulgarian army had descended to the West by the Maritza, on Mustapha-Pacha, and was going to concentrate its effort on Adrianople; therefore the horsemen seen by the populations of the East could only be reconnaissance belonging to the extreme left wing of this investment army, and the forces at their disposal could only be insignificant. And he had sent two companies into the village, judging that they would be quite sufficient to make the enemy turn coat. This error of the head of the Almadjik detachment was repeated twenty-four hours later by the pasha commanding the troops of Kirk-Kilissé, who was to make them also leave the town’s entrenchments to run to an adversary judged to be of no importance… because, no one in Turkey, as we have said, was waiting for the third army by the Istrandja-Dagh!… The village was thus reoccupied, and so quickly that the reporters did not have time to leave!… They resolved to hide and wait until the middle of the night to reach the countryside; this is how they descended precipitately from the terraces, where they had first taken refuge, into the cellars where they hoped to be safer . Ivana followed Rouletabille like a shadow… her gestures were those of an automaton… In truth, since Gaulow’s death, she seemed to have lost her mind… Sometimes a strange and desolate smile appeared from time to time on this dead face when Rouletabille spoke to her, and added to the general look of dementia that struck her… Now they were holed up in this cellar… and they could hope to spend a few quiet hours there until the arrival of personnel from all types of corps of the Bulgarian army when, through the air vents that overlook the square, they perceived a movement that intrigued them and soon frightened them… It was all the Osmanli families who were returning to the village, convinced that they had nothing more to fear, and were settling back into their homes. Having found no lodging in Almadjik, they had easily been convinced by the optimistic reasoning of the detachment leader and had set off again to return home behind the troops. The abandoned house in which the reporters had taken refuge was therefore about to be occupied again: they could fear being discovered at any moment. However, the first interview they had with the agha was not enough to encourage them to have unlimited confidence in Turkish hospitality, especially since they knew that they had been denounced to the authorities as agents of Sofia. If they were searched, they had only Bulgarian passes on them and could be shot on the spot, as spies. The owner of the building, one of the most important in the village, soon entered the courtyard with his family, his wives and his servants. These people were followed by the carts on which they had piled their furniture… They spent part of the night unloading them, while, in the square, the regulars and the bashi-buzouks chatted while smoking and drinking raki around large fires.
It was in vain that our young people tried several times to get out… They had no sooner risked a few steps outside than they were obliged to return to their retreat if they did not want to be discovered. As the minutes passed, their situation became more tragic: they no longer expected the Bulgarian army before the following day and they had no doubt that, for one reason or another, their hosts would soon descend into the cellars. –If only they were full of wine! sighed La Candeur, who was ignorant of the laws of the Prophet and who, from the dungeon where he had thought he would find death, tried, from time to time, to give himself airs of bravado and affected, out of despair, to laugh at everything… It is no more depressing than anything else to spend one’s life in a cellar when it is well stocked… Thus, Rouletabille, remember, in The Three Musketeers, remember Athos besieged in a cellar, and the tragic event of bottles that he made!… –My poor La Candeur… said Rouletabille, you really have no luck… I took you to a country where the tragic event of bottles is the only one who is defended! And as if the event wanted to prove him right, terrible cries suddenly rose in the night, amidst a great noise of battle. Shots could be heard in the four corners of the village and all the soldiers who filled the square disappeared in an instant, fleeing in indescribable disorder, abandoning weapons and baggage. “It can only be the Bulgarians who are returning,” cried Vladimir! “We are done!” And he was already ready to throw himself outside, but Rouletabille begged him to keep quiet… Indeed, although it was, as was to be expected, one of the columns of the third army which was crossing the village, it was very dangerous to show oneself at that hour, when the rage of the comitadjis who had joined this column and the fury of the soldiers whom their officers were powerless to hold back, were annihilating everything, killing everything. Cries of death, the screams of women and children having their throats cut, would make the reporters shudder in their depths of retreat… The Bulgarians were ransacking houses and claiming as many innocent victims as the Turks themselves. Blood was paid for blood. In the square of this small village, the reporters witnessed from the first hour of the struggle the entire Balkan battle and its hideous reprisals. Courage, heroism, and atrocities! They had seen the poor Bulgarian peasants murdered by the Turks: now they watched with horror the Turkish families massacred by the Bulgarians. Through the cellar vents, nothing escaped them of what was happening in the square where women and children had taken refuge behind the half-burned door of the mosque. The unfortunate victims uttered heart-rending cries and stretched out supplicating hands in vain… The comitadjis, who all had some member of their family to avenge, spared none. For a long time Rouletabille and his companions were to be pursued by the hideous nightmare of that dreadful night. Miserable land where for centuries so many subjects of discord had accumulated; one and all fought over it in the name of justice and fraternity, each claiming that they had enslaved populations to free! “Well! They free them all!” expressed the brave La Candeur with bitter melancholy … “Yes, they free them from life!… When the Turks have passed and the Bulgarians have left, the population can rest easy, it no longer exists!… And he concluded, strangely prophetically: Deep down, these people have the same tastes. ” They must be of the same race: they were not made to fight, but to understand each other!… Ivana had turned away so as not to see, and Rouletabille even noticed that she was covering her ears so as not to hear. Suddenly, a little girl who had escaped from the comitadjis ran around the square, screaming and crying. The poor little girl had been discovered while hiding under a pile of corpses which were undoubtedly those of her mother and her family, and now she was fleeing before a big devil of a Bulgarian who was running behind her, his saber drawn. Rouletabille could not restrain a dull exclamation of pity, to which answered an insult from La Candeur addressed to the barbarian soldier. The child was going to be struck. A nameless terror was painted on her face, in her large eyes which sought refuge everywhere without finding it. “There would be a way to save the child!” said Rouletabille: it would be to kill the Bulgarian. And he took his revolver from his pocket. Ivana had heard the sentence, had seen the movement. She threw herself on the reporter’s hand. “You are not going to commit this crime?” she cried. “What crime?” replied Rouletabille, freeing himself. “That of killing a child torturer?… ” “He’s a Bulgarian!… And you will not shoot a Bulgarian, me being There!… “I obey you, Ivana,” Rouletabille said in an icy tone; “but be Bulgarian to the end and at least have the courage to watch this child die! ” The little girl had stumbled very close to the air vent where Ivana and the reporter were standing ; and the soldier, encouraged by the sniggering of his comrades, was preparing to make a bad decision for the little girl, when she slipped before his eyes and disappeared as if by magic into the earth. It was Ivana who had stretched out her arms from the air vent and had drawn the child into the cellar, with a movement so rapid and spontaneous that the reporters were as astonished as the soldier himself. The little girl was trembling like a leaf in Ivana’s arms, who was trying to reassure her, while, in the square, the furious Bulgarians were consulting together, and having realized that their prey had escaped them through the air vent, rushed into the house. “Ah well! cried La Candeur, once again we are clean! “They will come and shoot us here, thinking we are dealing with Turks; we had better get out,” said Rouletabille. “If we go out with this little girl,” said Ivana, “they will kill her… ” “Well, leave her here!” said Vladimir, “she might escape them. ” “No!” cried Ivana. “Go out, you others!… You can tell them what you like!… But I am staying with the little girl. ” The child clutched her benefactress desperately in her little arms… “You are both going to be massacred here!” said Rouletabille. “So much the better!” said Ivana in a gloomy voice. “Didn’t you want to save this child?… I won’t part with her!… ” “But we are not all going to get ourselves killed for this little Turkish girl!” scolded La Candeur, who had been initially enthusiastic about Ivana’s generous gesture and was now beginning to find it a little… cumbersome… And as shouts rang out in the courtyard, he came out of the cellar shouting: Francis! Francis!… and waving a handkerchief as a sign of peace… He was immediately surrounded by comitadjis who deafened him with gibberish that he understood perfectly well because it was accompanied by threatening gestures. They were demanding, without a doubt, the little girl and they were accusing La Candeur of having taken her from them!… They even manhandled him quite severely and it could have turned out badly, because La Candeur was beginning to clench his fists, when Rouletabille, Vladimir and Tondor came out of the cellar. Vladimir stepped forward and spoke to the comitadjis with great audacity, shouting louder than them, calling himself the friend of General Stanislawoff, representing Rouletabille as the greatest reporter in Europe who had been forced to hide with his companions at the bottom of this cellar to escape the murderous rage of the Turks. He also told them that they had with them the niece of General Vilitchkov, ward of the Major-General, but that she would not come out of her hole until the Bulgarians had sworn to let her pass with this little girl whom she had indeed snatched from the barbarity of her compatriots. Whereupon Vladimir shamed them for showing themselves as bloodthirsty as the oppressors of Thrace whom they had come to punish. He concluded by declaring that his companions and he demanded to be taken immediately, all together, to a staff officer. The comitadjis, under the influence of this unexpected threat, consulted among themselves and ended up promising that they would not touch the little girl. Rouletabille went to warn Ivana, who agreed to show herself with the child, carrying her in her arms. Then the comitadjis said to her: “You are not the real niece of General Vilitchkov, who was assassinated by the Pomaks, otherwise you would not try to save a little Muslim girl whose parents assassinated your parents! Give us this child and we will avenge you, since you do not have the courage to do it yourself.” Ivana answered them: “I am General Vilitchkov’s niece, and I order you to take me to your chief. ” “We have no chiefs! We are free comitadjis!” they replied, and they wanted to get their hands on her. “You are murderers,” she cried. Then there was an indescribable melee. The reporters wanted to defend her , and the comitadjis wanted to get to her. Candeur still shouted: “Francis! Francis!” Vladimir continued to threaten them with the general’s wrath! Rouletabille expected them all to be shot within five minutes. And Ivana, with a clumsiness that seemed deliberate, did not stop insulting the comitadjis and covering them with insults. One of them suddenly rushed at her and, jostling Rouletabille, raised a large cutlass that was intended for Ivana’s chest and struck the little Muslim girl. The child sighed, closed her eyes, and slipped from Ivana’s hands, who had remained standing motionless, pale with horror, and spattered with the young, crimson blood. Immediately, as if the spilled blood had the virtue of calming all anger, the comitadjis ceased their attacks and their shouts and placed themselves at the disposal of the young men to lead them to the headquarters of the fourth column of the third army, which had just settled in Almadjik. Rouletabille accepted at once, and the young men left, surrounded by comitadjis, like prisoners. They walked in silence. At one point, Rouletabille noticed that Ivana was crying. His heart sank, for he thought she was thinking of that poor child whom she had been powerless to save. He felt he should say a few words of consolation to her. She replied verbatim: “I do not mourn the death of that little girl. Her fate was written. Other Turkish children will still die as other Bulgarian children have died, as my little sister Irene died… No, I only mourn the knife wound from which that child died, the knife wound that was meant for me and which would have suited me so well!… Then, hearing this, which depicted her state of despair caused by another death that should have, on the contrary, rejoiced her, Rouletabille fell silent, determined not to speak to her again, and let her walk before him like a stranger. It seemed to him that all ties between them were broken and that nothing would ever bring them together again… Chapter 6. IT’S CANDOR’S TURN TO TELL A STRANGE STORY TO ROULETABILLE They were thus led to the outposts, in front of Almadjik, where they found the staff of General Dimitri Sanof and the general himself, who received them with genuine joy. It was to him that Athanase had turned after accompanying his mission to obtain command of a small cavalry detachment that had gone ahead and marched towards the Black Castle, with the aim of freeing General Vilitchkov’s niece and the French reporters. Although he had not then informed him exactly about the nature of the services rendered by Ivana and her companions, Athanase had said enough to the general before his departure so that he was aware that General Stanislawoff would be grateful to his comrades in arms for treating the young men well. Rouletabille told the general, in a few words, the adventures of their flight from Karakoule, then the journey that Athanase Khetew had taken them on, their quarrels with the agha, and finally the fight they had witnessed from the top of the terraces between Athanase Khetew and Gaulow. Since his victory they had not seen Athanase Khetew again. Naturally, Dimitri Sanof put himself at their entire disposal for anything they might need, and La Candeur, hearing these kind words, was able to believe that all their misfortunes were over and that they were nearing the end of their misfortune. He, for his part, thought it was high time they took some rest and enjoyed some sweet treats. Rouletabille wholeheartedly accepted the general’s offers, but he made it clear that he would be particularly grateful if he could make his reporting task easier. He would consider himself amply repaid for all the hardships he had suffered in the depths of the Karakoule if he could send his newspaper the numerous sheets of correspondence he had written since entering the Istrandja-Dagh. The general replied that he had complete confidence in him and would spare him the delays and difficulties of the military censorship provided, of course, that he undertook not to telegraph or write anything that might hinder the movements of the Third Army. Whereupon he gave him a blank letter which allowed him and his companions to go wherever they wished and wherever they judged it best for the accomplishment of their task. However, the general did not think it necessary to hide from the reporters that it would be almost impossible for them to correspond with Paris before the army had reached the line of Kirk-Kilissé-Selio-Lou, that is to say, before it had left Istrandja-Dagh; all the lines in the region had been destroyed by the Turks, and the Bulgarians were passing so quickly that they did not even take the time to re-establish them. “It is neither at Almadjik where we are today,” said the general, “nor at Kadikeuï, where we will be tomorrow at noon, nor at Demir-Kapou, where we will be tomorrow evening, that you will be able to telegraph…” he said, “but I will arrange to meet you at Akmatcha.” There, we must reestablish all communications with the army as far as Mustapha Pasha, as far as headquarters, before attempting the assault on the defense lines of Kirk Kilissé. If you are there, in the first few days, I promise to send your telegrams, if they are not compromising, but do not delay, because I will no longer be able to answer for anything as soon as the important operations have begun. “Well, General, we will leave at once,” said Rouletabille. ” That way, we will be almost certain to arrive on time and to see everything…
” “As you wish!” replied the chief, “but you must not hide from yourself the dangers of such a march! ” “They are certain,” said La Candeur, “the general is right; We are going to get killed and I am beginning to get tired of getting killed, in this sad country, where it is always raining!… Just think, Rouletabille, the battle has barely begun and two of our men are already left on the floor, poor Modeste and brave Katerdjibaschi! –Well, you will stay in your tent, you, La Candeur! You will stay with Miss Vilitchkov who needs rest!… But Ivana declared to Rouletabille and to the general, who gallantly placed at her disposal the somewhat rustic comfort of his headquarters, that she wanted to be at the forefront and wanted to be treated by the leaders of her country not as a woman, but as a soldier. She had the insignia of the Red Cross given to her and asked for certain powers which would allow her to try to oppose the excesses and the atrocious revenges of the troops on their arrival in regions where they found the entire Bulgarian population massacred. The general, at this point, did not hide a bitter smile. He merely told him that he wished him good luck with his humanitarian zeal… “This battle will be atrocious, general,” said Rouletabille. “It will be victorious,” he replied. The next day, around noon, the young men, with the vanguard of a brigade of the fifth division, arrived at Kadikeuï. But La Candeur was not with them!… Rouletabille had only given him three hours of rest, and when Tondor had awakened him, La Candeur had flown into a state of terrible rage, threatening to strangle Vladimir’s servant if he allowed to disturb his sleep further. Then Rouletabille had ordered the small caravan to leave without further concern for La Candeur. However, he had taken care to fetch from under the reporter’s head the famous briefcase full of articles which, through all these adventures, never left the good La Candeur and served as his pillow. They had lunch in a few minutes at Kadikeuï and headed for Demir-Kapou. The small caravan gloomily followed a narrow path, in single file. First Tondor as scout, then Vladimir, then Ivana, then Rouletabille. All were very melancholic for different reasons. Vladimir was sad because he missed La Candeur. Around them, above them, on the peaks, or walking in narrow valleys, the vanguard scouts of the next column formed a very scattered procession for them. From time to time, a gunshot was heard… then everything fell back into its gloomy silence. They were crossing a desert from which all the former inhabitants, Turks and Bulgarians alike, had fled, instructed by their first experiences. Columns of smoke rose here and there from ruined cottages. Suddenly, the young people heard a gallop behind them and Vladimir gave a cry of joy: he had recognized in the new arrival La Candeur with his shoe-covered canteen that he had found among the luggage brought back, a few days earlier, from Karakoulé by Athanase. La Candeur was bursting a mule under him to join Rouletabille. His beast took a few more steps, after catching up with Rouletabille’s horse, and then fell. But La Candeur had already jumped onto the path and was rushing towards his reporter. “Ah! Good!” he shouted to him. “You have the briefcase!” And he breathed a sigh of relief… Having blown a little, he continued: –Imagine, I dreamed that Marko the Wallachian came, while I was sleeping, to steal my napkin!… then I woke up… I felt under my head!… Nothing!… I jumped. There was no more napkin!… and you were all gone!… So, Rouletabille, I thought that you could very well abandon me in this country of savages… –In the middle of thirty thousand men who were watching over your rest!… said Rouletabille very coldly. –You could very well abandon me, but I thought that you were incapable of abandoning the napkin to the reports! You see that I wasted no time in coming to get it… give me back the napkin! –I am sorry that you went to the trouble for it, said Rouletabille. You will not have it anymore. –I won’t have the briefcase anymore!… –No!… you won’t have it anymore!… –And who will have it, then?… –Someone worthy of it!… and it’s not you!… You’ve ceased to be my secretary, La Candeur! You’ve ceased to be my second! You can sleep to your heart’s content!… leave, stay, return to Paris… do whatever you like!… it’s perfectly all the same to me! Here, Vladimir, is my briefcase, I name you my kaïmakan!… my caliphate!… And he gave him the briefcase, the insignia of his new functions. La Candeur gave a sort of roar, but Vladimir instantly stood taller in his stirrups and La Candeur lowered his head, terribly humiliated… He was no longer heard. Rouletabille plunged back into his bitter reflections, glancing from time to time at Ivana, who was drifting along at the pace of her beast, paying no more attention to the reporter than if he did not exist. It was both too much contempt and too much injustice! Although Rouletabille had resolved to remain indifferent from now on to anything that this strange and incomprehensible girl might do, he was nonetheless horribly vexed by the absolute indifference with which she treated him… He felt a dull anger rising within him against the ungrateful woman, and as he often happens, it was not on the very object of this anger that it fell… His hostile glances met by chance La Candeur who had calmly decided to walk the whole way and who, for a few moments, had even been walking this way happily, and whistling, a very harmless demonstration against the mercurial of a moment ago. Rouletabille found himself immediately furious at La Candeur’s good humor. He found it insulting, and he was already looking for an opportunity to say something unpleasant to him, when, suddenly, he noticed that La Candeur was carrying the briefcase!… –La Candeur!… –What? What is it?… –Come here!… –What do you want? –I tell you to come here! Candeur came up to Rouletabille, looking at him with her mouth open and her large, naive eyes: “What have I done wrong now? ” “Could you tell me what you’re carrying there, under your arm?” “Under your arm? You can see it clearly, it’s the briefcase!… ” “You stole it from Vladimir! ” “Me? Not at all! Do you take me for a thief? ” “How is it that Vladimir, to whom I had entrusted this briefcase, gave it back to you? ” “It was I who took it back from him out of pity, because I found him too burdened. ” “Too burdened with a briefcase? ” “I’ll tell you: it was Vladimir who first took pity on me when he saw me on foot, carrying my canteen: then, as he was on a mule, he was kind enough to take my canteen with him.” Once he had the canteen, I found him very embarrassed with my canteen and the napkin; so I took the napkin back from him!… –Good, send me Vladimir!… Vladimir arrives, looking down and certainly looking more embarrassed than if he had kept the napkin. Same naive air as La Candeur: –Sir? –Vladimir, said Rouletabille, I made you my secretary. It was an honor! –Yes, sir… –I gave you my napkin! –Yes, sir! –You knew that what I was doing with it was to punish La Candeur, who was very attached to this napkin?… –Yes, sir!… –How is it that La Candeur is now wearing this napkin that I entrusted to you? –Sir, he bought it from me! –Ah! Ah!… He bought it from you!… And you find it perfectly natural to sell a napkin that doesn’t belong to you… to give it away for a few cents, to the first person who came along!… –Sir, I wouldn’t have sold it to the first person who came along!… –Come now! He would only have had to pay the price! I know you now, you handsome mask!… –Sir, I’m sorry you have such a bad opinion of me!… I repeat that I wouldn’t have sold it to the first person who came along because the first person who came along would never have paid me as much for it as La Candeur!… and I won’t hide from you, sir, that it was because of the size of the sum that I gave away your napkin… –What are you talking about, Vladimir? La Candeur isn’t penniless!… –La Candeur, sir, is very rich… or at least he was!… –At last! He didn’t buy that briefcase from you for forty thousand francs!… It’s too late!… –Sir, he bought it from me for a hundred thousand!… –A hundred thousand francs!… Here, La Candeur, who had listened to all this dialogue, straightened up to his full height, which was tall, and he said: –Who wouldn’t give a hundred thousand francs to have the honor of carrying the briefcase of Joseph Rouletabille, the first reporter of the Epoque? –You’re making fun of me, said Rouletabille… –I’m not making fun of anyone!… Not to mention that in giving those hundred thousand francs to Vladimir, I made an excellent deal, boasted La Candeur. –Explain that to me a little, said Rouletabille. –There… You’ll see how simple it is. After you confiscated my money and our cards, we continued to play another game! –Ah! Ah!… –When the service allowed us… –Yes, yes!… –And without you noticing anything, because we wouldn’t have wanted to upset you… –Go on! –This time, I started by losing! –That was a good thing! –Wait a minute!… since I had no more money, I signed some notes to Vladimir for a pretty tidy sum. Now these notes, being due fairly soon, kept me from sleeping. I’m a bit like poor Modeste; I value my sleep very much. So much so that I did everything I could to win back my notes. –You cheated! said Vladimir. “I admit it… I cheated so well that I won almost all the time, and after winning back my tickets, I won others that I made Vladimir sign this time… I made him sign one hundred thousand francs worth… One hundred thousand francs worth of tickets is something, even when they are signed by Vladimir Petrovitch of Kiev. ” “I doubt,” said Rouletabille, “that they had the same effect on Vladimir as on you. Isn’t that so, Vladimir? ” “Well, sir, I come from a very honorable family,” replied Vladimir, ” and if these tickets didn’t come to disturb me at night, they gave me a very sullen expression during the day. ” “I never noticed it,” said Rouletabille. “Because he’s a well-bred boy,” replied La Candeur, “and he knows how to hide it from you. But when he was alone with me, the look he made on me was incredible. ” Just now, I saw him so sad that I said to him: Give me back the napkin, I’ll give you back your hundred thousand francs! He gave me the napkin, I gave him his bills… and now look how cheerful he is! I like cheerful people!… I like them all the more since they are becoming rarer in this damned country of misery! Like you, for example, you, Rouletabille, who used to be so cheerful!… Rouletabille immediately cut off the indiscreet La Candeur. “You don’t need to be so proud,” he said, “because you bought a napkin with a hundred thousand francs in bills that Vladimir would never have paid you for!… “That’s why I also claim to have made an excellent deal!” La Candeur replied immediately, giving the napkin a friendly little pat. “Basically,” Rouletabille continued, “the napkin still belongs to Vladimir, and if you’re fair, you’ll give it back to him!…” “Never in a million years!” “And why should I give it back to him?” “Because you only won it by cheating, and that by your own admission… ” “Oh! I’m quite at ease about that,” said La Candeur, looking at Vladimir out of the corner of his eye. “Indeed, sir,” said Vladimir, “I’ll admit that I cheated too!” ” By Jove!” said La Candeur, “otherwise I would never have allowed myself…” “Only, he cheats much better than I do; that’s no game,” said Vladimir, “and another time it will be understood that we won’t cheat again!… ” “And what game are you cheating at, since you have neither cards nor dice? ” “Ah!” That, sir, is our business, said Vladimir, setting his mule off at a trot… You understand that now I want to win back the briefcase!… Rouletabille and La Candeur remained alone. “Aren’t you ashamed, La Candeur, of being such a gambler?” growled Rouletabille, who adored La Candeur. “Rouletabille, don’t despise me too much!… It’s the only vice left to me of the three I had when you didn’t know me yet!… “And what vices did you still have, La Candeur? ” “Wine and women! ” “Not possible! I never see you talking to a woman and you hardly ever drink !… ” “I started drinking out of despair! You understand!” –Perfectly!… You loved and you were not loved?… –That’s not it at all… Every time I wanted to be loved by a woman, it didn’t take long, said La Candeur; I only had to show myself, and, as I am quite a handsome man, the thing was done immediately… –So?… –So, I had so much success with women that that’s what brought me misfortune. Not only did I have the women I desired… but there was a woman who wanted to have me and whom I did not desire … –Yes!… She wasn’t pretty?… –It wasn’t that she was ugly, but she was very small… Oh! I have rarely seen such a small woman… She would have been successful in the circus; but she didn’t go to the circus, because she was a countess… –Mâtin, you’re dressing up well, La Candeur… –Listen, Rouletabille, I’m telling you my whole life story because I don’t want to keep anything hidden from you anymore, but promise me secrecy, because a terrible adventure happened to me with this countess… –What happened to you, great gods? –I married her!… –Is it true?… I’ll only call you M. le Comte!… –Beware of that, wretch, if you want my head! –Oh, but! You intrigue me! Tell me how you got married, you so tall, with such a small woman whom you didn’t love and didn’t desire!… But no doubt you wanted to become a count?… –Not at all! Here’s how things happened: I get into the carriage; The little woman in question is so small that I don’t even notice her !… I fall asleep… but soon I am awakened by piercing cries and I see in front of me a kind of doll that is gesticulating and whose clothes are in the greatest disorder… at the same time the train stops and almost immediately a conductor appears… The doll declares, crying, that I wanted to abuse her innocence!… I protest with all my might!… they don’t believe me!… –Poor Candeur!… –I forgot to tell you that this thing happened in England… –Ouch!… –It didn’t take long… A report was drawn up against me and to avoid going to prison, I had to marry!… –I was always told, in fact, that it was very dangerous to travel by train, on the other side of the strait! –Very dangerous!… but who could have suspected? “What were you going to do in England?” “These events took place before I entered the Epoch. I had just resigned from my position as assistant teacher to study literature… Finding myself in Boulogne one very hot summer day , I took the boat leaving for Folkestone, just to enjoy the coolness of the sea for a few hours. I had a return ticket and only thought I would be in England for a few minutes. But there I met an inspector from the Biarritz School who urged me to leave immediately for London where they were expecting a French teacher who would be given enough time to study literature . He put me on the train and that’s when the misfortune happened, as I have just told you. “A misfortune!” repeated Rouletabille. I don’t see that it’s such a great misfortune to marry a countess!… You should have been delighted, on the contrary… Just think, in your situation… –Especially since the countess was rich. –Do you see that! –But really she was too small… You can’t imagine how small she was… In church (for she was Catholic and insisted on getting married in great pomp), in church, she couldn’t give me her arm; I held her hand; people laughed. I won’t tell you what I suffered… That giant and that dwarf! People jostled everywhere to see us pass because she dragged me everywhere, everywhere… in the shops, at the theater, in all the places where I would not have wanted to set foot with her… She would not leave me for a moment, for she was very jealous… So every time she saw me take my cane or my hat, she would say to me: I am going out with you, my love, and indeed she went out with me! I soon had to make the resolution to go out only when she forced me. –But how could this little dwarf force the giant that you are to do something that displeased you? –She beat me. –She is very good! –Ah! you laugh… you laugh, Rouletabille! It has been so long since I have seen you laugh!… It makes me happy to see you a little cheerful… For that alone , you see, I will not regret having confided to you the great secret of my life, expressed the good La Candeur, with tears in his eyes. –So, she beat you? –Like plaster!… –And you didn’t hit her back the blows she gave you!… –I couldn’t!… If I had slapped her or punched her , she would have died and I would have been hanged, of course!… –And I wouldn’t have known you!… You did well not to hit her, Candeur… But she couldn’t have hurt you much, she was so small!… –That’s what’s deceiving you!… So, she would pinch me until I screamed, pull my hair until it tore out!… –So you got down on your knees! –No! It was she who climbed on the furniture. For example, I would enter a room after cautiously pushing open the door and see that my wife wasn’t there. Bang! I would get a slap or I would have a little demon hanging from my hair! She had waited for me, mounted on a chair or hidden on a console… You will admit that, in these conditions, life became impossible!… –I admit it!… –And she was cheating on me!… –Oh well!… –She was cheating on me with another giant, a highlander drum major with whom she wasted our fortune… What do you expect, this dwarf only adored handsome men!… It’s a law of nature… How many times have I met tiny men with tall women! –If it’s a law of nature, you should have loved your wife who was short, since you’re tall! Rouletabille remarked. –Well, I’m probably an exception to the rule… because I hated that little woman and she disgusted me forever with all women, short or tall, La Candeur admitted with a sigh. The best, you see, Rouletabille is not worth much… and I know someone who should profit from my sad experience!… Rouletabille, understanding the allusion, frowned. If La Candeur was pleased to confide in him, he did not like to tell his story to anyone! “Let’s get back to our subject,” he said rather abruptly. “Since she was cheating on you and you wanted to get rid of her, you only had to have her caught with her Highlander. ” “I did everything for that,” said La Candeur, “but if you think it was easy!
” “Yet, if this Highlander was as tall as you, it was not difficult to have him watched!… ” “Certainly, he did not escape attention… and he was always found !… But she, she, you understand! They never managed to surprise her… Oh! there was enough to make you furious!… –My poor friend!… –If by chance I had overheard a bit of conversation and if I was sure that there was a meeting, I would immediately warn a lawyer… We arrived, certain of nabbing her in the nest… I had all the exits, all the openings guarded, I even had the roof guarded, the whole house of the meeting from the cellar vents to the tops of the chimneys… And we entered!… We found our highlander, who was most often in a summary costume, complaining of the heat and declaring that he liked to make himself comfortable… But she, she… we could never find out what became of her or where she went!… They searched everything! They pushed everything around!… No Countess!… She had flown between our legs like a mouse or over our heads like a bird… and when I came home, I would find her peacefully seated in front of her tea and toast and saying to me: How do you do, my love? … (How are you, my love?) Oh! oh!… –Yes, Rouletabille agreed… Oh! oh!… And how long did this little adventure last? –Two years, Rouletabille!… Two years! When I think about it, I’m still sick! –And how did it end?… –Well! There you go! I had given up surprising my wife with the Highlander; I had given up everything! and I spent my time in the back of my study, rereading The Three Musketeers, the supreme consolation, even in English. It was there that I saw that Athos, who had also had a terrible love affair, had consoled himself by drinking more than he could drink!… We had a well-stocked cellar, I started to drink. I did like Athos!… I was drunk three-quarters of the time and that’s what saved me!… –How so?… –Oh! It’s very simple: one evening, I was so drunk that I sat on her without realizing it!… –The poor little thing!… –Certainly! said La Candeur, in a contrite tone, you’re right to pity her, Rouletabille, because the next morning, when I woke up, there wasn’t much left of her. I did everything I could to bring her back to life, but my efforts were in vain, and I hastened to cross the Channel again to escape the just laws. As I set foot on the quayside at Boulogne, I swore to myself that I would never again cross the strait in my life, even if I lived to be a hundred years old and it was hotter than in the tropics! Besides, I did not linger on that beach, which I found too close to my marital home; I crossed the whole of France, shut myself away in a remote corner of the Alps, and finally returned to Paris, penniless and driven by hunger and the constant need to write literature… –And you have had no more trouble as a result of this unfortunate affair, my poor La Candeur? –My goodness, no! My wife has left me quite alone since she died. They must have been looking for me there for some time, I must have certainly been condemned to something, I don’t know and don’t want to know. And I changed my name! The Countess’s husband is dead! “Actually, what’s your name?” asked Rouletabille curiously. ” Listen, Rouletabille, do you really need to know the name of a poor man who may have been condemned to death? ” “No!” replied the reporter thoughtfully, “and I beg your pardon for making you relive this dreadful story!… ” “You can be sure that you’re the only one I’ve told it to!” And La Candeur, after heaving a frightening sigh, added: “You know women now!… Be careful!” But Rouletabille pretended not to have heard. “Well!” replied the reporter thoughtfully. “Well!” he said, you must be tired, mount my beast for a moment, I ‘ll stretch my legs… “That’s not a refusal,” said La Candeur. And he took Rouletabille’s place in the saddle without effort, simply by passing one of his long legs over the mount, which immediately bent its back. “It’s only a horse!” he said with a smile that Rouletabille had never seen, he was so disillusioned… Judge for yourself, old man, if it were a countess!… You see, Rouletabille, women, I sit on them!… Rouletabille quickened his pace a little… But La Candeur joined him, pushing his beast for which he begged for mercy. “Don’t walk so fast!… And let me tell you some things for your Well!… I know that you don’t like advice and that, perhaps, by giving it to you, and wholeheartedly, I will incur your anger… But too bad, it is my friendship for you that speaks: this woman will bring you misfortune!… So saying, he pointed to Ivana who was riding a few paces ahead of them… Rouletabille shuddered and wanted to hasten his pace even more… –Listen to me then! resumed La Candeur. Let me tell you that she doesn’t love you … that she never loved you… and that she never will love you… You see, when one has done for a woman what you have done for her, well! one does not reward you by showing you such a face!… Ah! My little one!… I’m not very clever, but I have eyes to see… Here’s a little woman who had been kidnapped by a Teur… You set off in pursuit of her and you free her on her wedding day ! And the Teur is dead!… Well! She should be joyful !… She should embrace you!… Since we are saved, and since, thanks to you, she was able, while escaping the Teur, to render a great service to her country!… She should cover you with thanks and kisses !… She doesn’t even look at you and she seems more defeated than a dead person!… I think that woman misses her Teur and doesn’t forgive you for coming to disturb her wedding night!… Rouletabille stubbornly remained silent, but La Candeur’s words fell like molten lead on his head… “You’re not saying anything!… It’s because you don’t have a good reason to send me away!… Have you even asked her why she was so sad ? ” “No!” Rouletabille said, not daring to look at La Candeur. “If you didn’t ask her, it’s because you agree with me and know what to expect! Did you see how she ran after her Teur? She wanted to kill him, she said! When they killed her Teur in front of her, she almost fainted! Ah!” Rouletabille said, “did you notice?” “Just think! And Vladimir noticed too! And he thinks like me! You’re drying up for a little female who makes fun of you and who hasn’t lived since her Teur died! ” “You’re talking nonsense,” Rouletabille replied in a dull voice, suffering a thousand tortures. “If that were the case, nothing forced her to follow me when I went to look for her in the harem! She should have stayed with her Teur, as you say!” “My God!” replied the stubborn La Candeur, I wasn’t there when you took her away from her marital joys, but already, the day before, she had sent you back empty-handed to the rooftops and perhaps the next day, when you came back, she had had time to get angry with her Teur… In all households, there are quarters of an hour of anger… and then we make up!… In any case, she had time to make up with her Teur, in the dungeon of the underground!… “You’re lying!” Rouletabille growled furiously. “I’m lying! Ask Vladimir if I’m lying! And Tondor! You could ask Modeste and the katerdjibaschi too if they weren’t dead!… But it had become everyone’s story at the Hôtel des Étrangers!… “You’re lying! You’re lying! You’re lying!” repeated Rouletabille angrily, his throat full of sobs!… Shut up!… I don’t want to hear you anymore… not you, nor Vladimir, nor anyone!… You are all odious to me!… Here! Give me back that poor beast! You can see that you are crushing it!… And he didn’t even wait for La Candeur to completely dismount; he jostled him, took his place with a leap, dug his heels into the beast’s flanks and ran away from them, away from Ivana, away from everyone … to be left all alone, all alone with his pain… La Candeur’s words had torn him apart all the more because they were the faithful echo of his tormented thoughts, speaking to his aching heart… Ah well, if La Candeur had known that Rouletabille had surprised Ivana in in the process of helping Gaulow escape!… Then, then he would have despised her, that was certain, because to keep in his heart a feeling for a girl capable of such a thing, one had to not only be in love, one had to be a coward!… And it’s true that he was a coward!… He repeated it to himself in his solitude, truly hoping that Ivana would come back to him in one of those spontaneous movements of tenderness which formerly followed, without his ever having been able to really unravel why, his long hours of hostility… Chapter 7. IN FRONT OF KIRK-KILISSÉ. This gloomy attitude of despair only increased in Ivana, and we can say that it was pushed to its paroxysm towards the end of this memorable day, when the four columns of the Third Army, having closed their front around Kirk-Kilissé, from Demir-Kapou to Seliolou, furiously attacked the Ottoman troops as soon as night fell . Our young men were on the extreme Bulgarian left and were able, in the afternoon, to witness numerous small battles which led them to the rocks of Demir-Kapou around six o’clock in the evening. However, the rocky and steep nature of the terrain had been of particular help to the Turks. And no decisive success had yet been achieved at the time when we found ourselves with the reporters at the bottom of a ravine between Demir-Kapou and Akmatcha. The cannonade had ceased shortly after darkness had fallen, while the two opposing infantry units, sheltered behind the rocks, continued to exchange a fierce fusillade in the middle of the pitch-black night. Having slipped along a rocky ridge that concealed them on their right, Rouletabille and his companions were not far from the village of Akmatcha, where the general had arranged to meet them the next day to dispatch their correspondence. Only Akmatcha was in the hands of the Turks, and it was a matter of dislodging them. It was then that the Bulgarian general staff had decided to attempt a night attack, perhaps as much because one was feared from the enemy as because there was a vague hope that it would lead them to withdraw to the forts and under the works of Kirk-Kilissé. It was two battalions of the Fifth Division that carried out this attack, in the rocky maze of Kara-Kaja, to the right of Akmatcha. They succeeded in reaching the crest in the midst of a stormy rainstorm whose violence only redoubled when it was the turn of the fourth column to move. The reporters were finishing, sheltered by a hut of branches, emptying some cans of preserves that they owed to the generosity of Dimitri Sanof, at the moment when the battalions of the First Brigade of the Fifth Division were passing near them, running to the night assault . Ivana got up immediately to follow the troop. She had snatched, that afternoon, a rifle from the clenched hands of a dead man, had belted herself with a cartridge belt, and had declared that at the first opportunity she would fire. Following Rouletabille’s observation , she had not hesitated to reject the Red Cross badge. However, if she had voluntarily exposed herself to Turkish bullets during the afternoon, she had not yet taken part in any melee. This time, Rouletabille saw clearly that she must have her share. She had thrown herself outside, in the rain, without saying a word to the reporters. Rouletabille immediately got up, but La Candeur put his hand on his arm. “Wait a minute!… What are you going to do?” he asked him. “Stop this madwoman from getting herself killed! ” “I warn you,” said La Candeur, “that to stop this madwoman from getting herself killed, you’re going to get yourself killed!…” “Possible!” replied the other. “That’s your business!” said La Candeur in a hoarse voice, “but I warn you.” also that since I am determined not to leave you, you will get me killed too! –And me too, said Vladimir, because I am not leaving La Candeur. –La Candeur and you, Vladimir, I order you to stay here until the end of the action… said Rouletabille. When Akmatcha is taken, you will go to the post office, you will find me there! –Or we will not find you there! –In that case, you have the briefcase for the reports! You will entrust them yourself to the general, telling him that it is from me and that my last wish is that he delivers them safe and sound to the newspaper!… That’s understood!… Ah! You will also ask his permission to send a short dispatch on the combat if that does not bother him too much!… You will tell him that the Bulgarian generals can do that for me!… –Rouletabille! I see what’s going on… You’re not going to stop that madwoman from killing herself, you’re going to try to get yourself killed with her!… “You’re a mentally ill person!” cried the reporter. “I don’t have the slightest desire to die… Stay here! And as for me, I promise to be careful!… Goodbye, La Candeur!… Goodbye, Vladimir!…” He waved his hand at them, not wanting to touch theirs, defending himself from an emotion that was overcoming him as he parted, perhaps never to see them again, from his comrades… and he threw himself outside in Ivana’s footsteps. “Ah! The damned female,” grunted La Candeur, his mouth full. “We can’t even dine in peace! Do you think she’s taken it!… If only a good bullet could get rid of it! That’s all the good I wish for her, for that unfortunate Ivana!” “You’ll see she won’t get anything and he’ll be the one who gets the brunt!” Vladimir uttered. “Shut up, idiot!” growled La Candeur. “Are you almost finished? We’re not going to hold them until tomorrow morning… Look, listen, there they are!… Ah! Damn, it’s getting hot! We mustn’t leave Rouletabille all alone…” When they were outside, they immediately saw, behind the rocky spire that sheltered them, intermittently lit by the most violent artillery fire, Ivana and Rouletabille. Stopped by a movement of troops, they were in front of them about a hundred paces away. The young girl’s hair was wrapped in a veil that fluttered behind her like a little pennant. They suddenly heard a call from Rouletabille and ran over: “What’s the matter? Aren’t you hurt?” “No!” No!… it was she who had disappeared! Ivana! Ivana!… But suddenly there was such a noise of machine-gun fire around them and above them that her calls were lost… Ivana had suddenly plunged into this river of men rushing to their deaths and she had gone with them, had let herself be carried by them towards the ridge, up there, where a fierce battle was taking place, all resounding with the atrocious cries of the bayonet struggle: Na noje! Na noje! To the knife! The Turks were defending themselves valiantly. Protected by nature, they had further fortified their position with networks of wire, wolf holes and fougasses which lit up the night at every moment with a hellish glow; finally they had brought artillery which responded blow for blow to the Bulgarian artillery. In the midst of these rocks, in funnels where death bubbled, there was a nameless tumult. The air was rent with a hundred thunders; heaps of rock were thrown from all sides, shrapnel burst above the trenches, killing those who thought they were most sheltered; but nothing resisted the human shrapnel! It was still the strongest, it which was going to dislodge from their underground retreat where the lead had not been able to reach them, the soldiers of Mouktar Pasha! How did Rouletabille suddenly find himself, in the middle of the fight, near Ivana, who was hooking a bayonet to his smoking rifle? He could not have said… and he certainly could not have said how they both were still intact under this terrible rain of iron. The tragic concentric event of the Turks was perfectly aimed and the shells had fallen thickly on the assaulting troops at the same time as on their field guns. Near the young men a gun commander and his followers had been torn to pieces, their brains spurting from their skulls and their entrails scattered on the ground in a bloody mud. Reserve followers , who had come to replace their comrades, had suffered the same fate… And
now it was the turn of the human shrapnel to give. –Forward, friends, to the assault! It is Ivana who shouts in this storm and who repeats the orders of the leaders in the fierce language of the Balkan. Na noje! Na noje! The piercing cries of the men mingle with the noise of the cannon and, like furies, there they all leap, no one paying attention to the officers or the comrades who are falling! Jumping over the dead and dying, the survivors reach within ten meters of the enemy, but the rock face is almost sheer here and stops them for a moment… and a terrible flame lays them to the ground by the hundreds! Forward!… This is the stepping stone the survivors need! They pile up the corpses and climb on them like demons! It’s the end! The Turk flees, abandoning everything to the victor, his wounded and his supplies. Moreover, he no longer tries anywhere to resist such a human tide that descends from all the passes of Istrandja… Rouletabille has had eyes, during this entire fierce struggle, only for Ivana. He has given up protecting her and himself. He obeys the movement that envelops him, that carries him behind her. For a moment he sees her fall and he throws himself on her, lifts her up, takes her in his arms. She was covered in blood, and he could not have said whose blood it was, whether it came from one of her wounds or from those she had disemboweled with her terrible bayonet… He spoke to her, but she did not answer him. She struggled to make him let go of her. “But you want to die?” he cried, sobbing. And she cried desperately: “Yes! Yes! Yes!” And she slipped from his arms to run again to her furious work, and he turned his head away so as not to see her fierce face, the queen of battles. When, that night, Akmatcha was taken, Karakoï was taken, and the victorious troops lay down in their positions, waiting for dawn, Rouletabille had all the trouble in the world to prevent Ivana from going beyond the line of outposts. She wanted to fight again, to pursue death, which was definitely fleeing her. She had a wound in her right shoulder that was bleeding profusely. She refused to be treated, and her shoulder was bandaged almost against her will. Finally, she lay down in a trench and fell asleep, overwhelmed. Rouletabille watched over her until the first light of day. And it was on that day, October 24, that the strange thing that was the capture of Kirk-Kilissé took place. Chapter 8. THE CAPTURE OF KIRK-KILISSÉ During the night, the Bulgarians had stopped in their victory along the entire line, from Demir-Kapou to Petra and Gerdeli, considering their successes sufficient in the darkness and, moreover, still expecting, as they have since admitted, an offensive return from the enemy. They had no idea of the immense panic that had seized the Turkish army. At dawn, Rouletabille, seeing Ivana still in the grip of a deep sleep, went towards Akmatcha, who was a few steps away, thinking that he would find La Candeur and Vladimir there, whom he had arranged to meet at the post office. It was there, in fact, that he found them, and in what a state! They were as pitiful, as collapsed as the post office itself. It was still a long way off that dispatches would be sent! As for La Candeur, he seemed nothing more than the ghost of himself and he heaped great muffled blows on his chest like penitent sinners who recite their mea culpa with touching ardor. La Candeur accused himself of Rouletabille’s death and Vladimir had great difficulty in consoling him. They had been separated from the reporter rather abruptly and had not seen him again; they had searched for him all night among the corpses… –Ah! If I had followed him faster, if I had been less cowardly, moaned La Candeur, he would still be alive!… I would have defended him!… I would have placed myself in front of him!… I would have died in his place!… Vladimir, you don’t know how much I owe to Rouletabille!… In my reports, it was always he who got me out of trouble!… Without him, I would have been thrown out of the newspaper ten times!… I would have died of hunger!… He always defended me!… He always helped me… He was a friend, that one!… And I abandoned him!… “Don’t cry,” said Rouletabille, “here I am!” They fell into each other’s arms. Joy was suffocating La Candeur… Suddenly he straightened up with a frightening sigh: “Unhappy man!” he cried, “there’s your evil genius coming back! So she’s not dead, that one!” Rouletabille turned his head and saw Ivana. He pushed La Candeur away, saying: “Leave me alone… you don’t love me!” La Candeur faltered. “That’s good, that’s good,” he said in a hollow voice… “if, in order to love you, I must love her too, I will love her! ” “Then,” said Rouletabille, “watch over her as you would watch over me… ” “That’s understood!” growled the other. “Can I count on you? ” “I don’t need to tell you again…” Ivana was indeed coming… She was gaunt with a dark flame in the depths of her magnificent eyes, in rags, her hair twisted fiercely on the top of her head and held back by a flowing scarf; she had put on infantry trousers that the cartridge pouch held at her belt. She had her rifle on her arm. There was blood on her shoulder. She was frightening and beautiful. Rouletabille wanted to ask her about his injury. She answered him: “The outposts have just received the order to advance; are you coming with me?” and she reached the path… “Ah! It’s not going to start again!” grunted La Candeur. Rouletabille looked at him sadly: “Good! Good!… Let’s go!” said La Candeur. And the good giant, lowering his head, followed Ivana. He still had his briefcase under his arm. He produced a strange effect on the battlefield, with this briefcase, his long black frock coat, the only clean garment he had left, and his white tie, for La Candeur never wore his frock coat without his white tie. He could have passed for a notary in charge of collecting wills… They went towards Raklitza, the first large fort that defended Kirk-Kilissé to the northwest. They were on the line of the first scouts who were still advancing very cautiously, because it was expected that the forts would open fire at any moment on Karakoy and Karakaja. However, the forts did not fire at all and for good reason!… Ivana, La Candeur, Rouletabille and Vladimir were the first to enter the fort of Raklitza. They found there simply four pieces of personnel of all types of caliber corps who had not burned a jug, their servants having fled at the same time as the last elements of infantry that the Turks had left there!… It was the reporters who informed the soldiers of the fact and told them that they could advance without fear. The officers did not want to believe it, but they soon had to face the facts! At the same time, as they approached Kirk Kilisse, they found before them all the signs of an indescribable panic. Traces of the rout were left everywhere on the ground. More than fifty artillery pieces remained stuck in the ruts up to their axles, abandoned by their teams whose severed shafts still hung on the ground… then there were scattered caissons, a fabulous pile of unfired shell cartridges, some red (ordinary shrapnel), others yellow (explosive shells), which looked like strange and sumptuous flowers blooming overnight in this wild field… More than 10,000 Mausers and millions of cartridges had also been thrown onto the roads to relieve the carriages… considerable supplies… all this abandoned without anyone even taking the trouble or the time to destroy them… so eager were they to flee!… General Radko Dimitrief’s soldiers, at this sight, cheered !… As for the reporters, just as they had been the first to enter the fort, they were the first to penetrate the city. It was Ivana who took possession of it without anyone, moreover, opposing it, for they met no one. They passed between the military works, the abandoned redoubts… not a soldier!… not a human face!… The few inhabitants who had not fled had gone early , by another route, to meet the enemy, to announce the abandonment of the city and bring him flowers!… The young people thus reached the governor’s palace, in the midst of a prodigious silence… They went from courtyard to courtyard, from room to room, had only to push open doors, finding everywhere the traces of a desperate flight… And they penetrated, without really knowing how, without having looked for it, perhaps by chance, into the very office of Mahmoud Mouktar Pasha, commander -in-chief of the fleeing Ottoman army. We say perhaps, because it was very possible that Rouletabille had pursued this chance more than he would have liked to admit. He seemed indeed to be very interested in the objects that were in this study… On a table, there were papers, seals, wax… A snoop, he cast a glance over all that… stretched out his hand, then seemed to reflect, took nothing and quickly raised his head at the sound of silverware coming from the next room. He ran there. It was Vladimir emptying a drawer. He scolded him sharply, while the other demanded the right to take a little souvenir. “My God,” Rouletabille agreed, “a little souvenir, I’ll have it!” But you don’t have the idea of having these silver spoons and silver-gilt ladles mounted on your tie pins ?… Come this way!… I don’t want to leave you alone with the silverware… Look in this cabinet… Perhaps you’ll find something worthless there!… Vladimir went straight to the desk… He saw the papers, the blanks, the seals… Unscrupulous, he threw himself on it, grabbed everything, despite Rouletabille’s protests: “Unhappy man, what are you doing here?” “What am I doing here?” Vladimir replied calmly. But simply my duty !… If we need passes and blank checks one day to walk among the Turkish armies, assuming that there are still some left, we will be very happy to have the signature and stamp of the commander-in-chief!… –I’m not telling you otherwise, Vladimir, Rouletabille replied, nodding his head, but it must be clearly understood that this happened without my supervision!… I have responsibilities, I represent here the French press which must only use honest methods… You, you are Vladimir of Kiev, you can take from the tables and even from the drawers whatever you like, it won’t surprise anyone!… Now let’s get out of here!… he added… We have nothing more to do here!… General Dimitrief’s soldiers learned that Kirk-Kilissé had fallen into their hands, while they were still preparing to fight. And so it was that the two large cavalry forts of Raklitza and Skopes, which covered the city to the north and which were linked together by a series of earthworks for field batteries and infantry riflemen, works which had been highly appreciated in their time by the German general von der Goltz, were occupied by the Bulgarians without a shot being fired. The Turkish army had vanished before them, and so quickly that they were very embarrassed to pursue it. We had lost contact, Mr. de Pennenrun recounted. It was then that, faced with the troops’ state of fatigue, Generals Kenlentchef and Dimitrief and our friend General Dimitri Savof decided by mutual agreement to suspend their forward movement and to wait on the spot for the information that would undoubtedly be provided to them by the Nazlimof cavalry division that they had just launched towards the South, in the direction of Baba-Eski. Kirk-Kilissé was therefore invaded by the troops, but not pillaged. People came there mainly to sleep, because the soldiers, exhausted by five days of marching in a country as rugged as the Alpine region and by two days of combat, needed above all a little rest! As for our reporters, they were looking less for a bed than for a good breakfast. Chapter 9. CANDOR DRINKS TOO MUCH They were just passing an old inn which, deserted a moment ago, had filled up in an instant with a noisy clientele, kept within the limits of the right to seize people’s property by a detachment of rice-bread-salt charged with taking inventory of the cellars and storerooms and also distributing the provisions. As they were preparing to enter the courtyard, Rouletabille suddenly slipped away to follow Ivana who refused to enter this crowd. He shouted to his companions that he would join them presently. Vladimir quickly learned to navigate this confusion, and soon, laden with an enormous cervelas sausage and a ham, a person of all body types with brown bread under his arm, he was running to fetch Candor from the back of the courtyard where he had arranged to meet her. He was beginning to feel sorry for himself, for he could not see him, when suddenly he saw the head of the good giant pass through the door of a coach at least a hundred years old, which was crumbling to dust under a shed: “Well, what are you doing?” said La Candeur. “Get in! We ‘re just waiting for you!” “Have you set the table in the coach? ” “Sure! And when you get there, I’ll turn the whole sign over! We’ll be very quiet in there to brief! Oh! By the way, you know, we have a guest! ” “Who? ” “Get in! You’ll see!” Intrigued, Vladimir stood up on the running board and looked inside the coach. La Candeur, in fact, was not alone in there; A second person was finishing setting the table on a bench, which was already decorated with white napkins, plates, spices, glasses and even bottles!… The man turned around. –Monsieur Priski!… Vladimir, seeing their jailer of the Black Castle, the man who reminded him of the most cruel misadventures, dropped the bread he had under his arm. And while La Candeur ran to pick it up: –Monsieur Priski! But you’re not dead!… I thought La Candeur had killed you!… –Me too, said La Candeur. –Me too! said Mr. Priski, but you see, I got off with an ear… although, at that moment, I saw, as they say, thirty-six candles! Kara-Selim’s major-domo had indeed a bandage which held all his one side of the head. Apart from that, he didn’t seem to have lost his good humor in the least. “If I was lucky, you were lucky too, you others, to have gotten away with it!” Mr. Priski said politely. “It’s not your fault, Mr. Priski!…” “Lady!” replied the other. “We defend ourselves as best we can! It was you who began to arrange things for me… [See The Black Castle.] “Peace!” commanded La Candeur. “Now, Mr. Priski is our friend! Isn’t that so, Mr. Priski? ” “Oh!” replied the other; “for life and death! Nothing separates us anymore!” “And the proof that Mr. Priski is our friend is that he offers us this beautiful roast chicken!” “Is it possible! Mr. Priski!” cried Vladimir, seeing a magnificent golden chicken that La Candeur had just taken out from under a plate… “And also,” continued La Candeur, “something to wash it down with!… Look at that, little brother… Three bottles of old Burgundy, but the real thing!… “Monsieur Priski, I must kiss you!” cried Vladimir. And he threw himself on Mr. Priski’s neck, repeating: “Burgundy, Mr. Priski!… real Burgundy!… I who have never drunk anything but Crimean Burgundy!… Can you imagine!… “Pommard 1888! -1888! Twenty-five years old in the bottle!… Ah! Mr. Priski!… And where did you find these treasures?… “First, let’s sit down and eat,” advised La Candeur, whose eyes were bulging at the sight of all these victuals… Shall we start with the ham?… “No, with the cervelas!… “And we’ll finish with the chicken!… “First, let’s taste the Pommard!… We can certainly uncork a bottle!… “I,” said La Candeur, “am of the opinion that we uncork all three bottles!… That way, we’ll each have our own!… “All right, have all three bottles at once,” said Vladimir, “only you ‘ll lose out by it!” “Why?” asked La Candeur, immediately worried. “Because you would certainly have drunk as much by yourself as I and Mr. Priski… ” “Well! You can always pass me your leftovers! ” “No, I’ll take what’s left for Rouletabille!” “But, you Tatar Vladimir, do you think you can carry around a twenty-five-year-old Pommard like a salad basket, and besides, Rouletabille isn’t thirsty, he’s in love!… Ah! Gentlemen, never be in love!… That’s my advice to you; whereupon I drink to the good health of you all!…” “Huh! What do you say to that?” asked Mr. Priski. The other two clicked their tongues. “Well, I declare,” said La Candeur with great gravity, “that I’m beginning to acquire a taste for battle! ” “How fortunate,” said Vladimir with an ecstatic smile of gratitude at his bottle, “how fortunate, La Candeur, that you didn’t kill that good Mr. Priski!… ” “I would never have been consoled!” affirmed La Candeur, emptying his glass.
“But once again, how did you meet him?” –Imagine, Vladimir, that I was prowling around the cellars, not knowing which way to enter, when I heard a voice coming from a basement window. –No need to bother, Monsieur de Rothschild, said the voice, this is what you are looking for! The voice of Monsieur Priski!… At first I recoiled… I thought it was a ghost!… But no! It was indeed Monsieur Priski in the flesh who was handing me, through the hole in the basement window, these bottles! and who was advising me: Do n’t stir them too much! Above all, don’t stir them too much!… Ah! the good Monsieur Priski! He soon followed his bottles and arrived again with a chicken. You can imagine how we were friends right away!… I then explained to him how my rifle had gone off all by itself through the loophole of the dungeon and how much I had regretted it!… –Oh! said Vladimir, with tears in his eyes and his mouth full, your death was mourned by us in the dungeon, as if we had been your children, Mr. Priski!… “Our desolation was a sad sight!” affirmed La Candeur with a stifled sigh, because he had helped himself to too much sausage and wanted to arrive in time for the ham. “Luckily the good Lord was watching over Mr. Priski and sending him, while we mourned his death, to this inn where he once served! ” “Where are we here?” asked Vladimir. “At the Grand Turk’s Hotel! A very well-known house where I was once an interpreter,” explained Mr. Priski, not without a certain touch of pride. “That explains everything!” said Vladimir, “you knew the house! ” “That is to say, the cellars, for me, and the pantry held no mystery!… ” “I understand everything! I understand everything! ” “No! You don’t understand everything!” said La Candeur… for if we have the good fortune to have met Mr. Priski so opportunely, I must tell you that Mr. Priski was looking for us! “Ah! yes!… he was looking for us… and why was he looking for us?” “Firstly, because he wanted to have news of our health, and secondly , to do us a favor!” explained La Candeur, emptying a glass full of Pommard. “A favor?” “My dear fellow” (and La Candeur leaned into Vladimir’s ear), “it’s simply a matter of ridding Rouletabille of Ivana!” “Oh! oh! that’s serious,” said Vladimir, already on the alert. “Obviously, it’s serious,” resumed La Candeur, emptying his bottle, which seemed to give him a lot of strength to reason… It’s always serious to give life back to someone who is in the process of committing suicide!… “That!” said Vladimir, it is certain that since Rouletabille found this little woman, he is no longer recognized!… “He never laughs anymore!… ” He is no longer hungry!… “He is no longer thirsty!” said La Candeur, surreptitiously borrowing Vladimir’s bottle. “He is wasting away before our eyes,” agreed Vladimir. “All the same, we must be careful, and it deserves reflection!… “It is all thought out!…” affirmed La Candeur; “I want to save Rouletabille, me!… “Me too…” said Vladimir; but all that depends… “Depends on what?… ” “Well, my God,” admitted the young Slav, hesitating a little, “but not for long … all that depends on the price Mr. Priski will pay for it!…” “Huh?” started La Candeur, “what are you saying?” “Sir, I suppose, understood me!” asked Vladimir, turning to Mr. Priski. “Sir, I suppose, is aware that we are completely destitute of any change…” “Miserable Vladimir Petrovitch of Kiev!” cried La Candeur, nearly choking on a chicken’s foot. “You want to be paid for a service you render to Rouletabille!” “You Candeur of my heart!” replied Vladimir. “Do you take me for a cad?” “I am ready to render this service to Rouletabille for nothing! But I would like him to pay me something for the service I render to Mr. Priski !” “For if I have reasons to serve Rouletabille for nothing, I have none to be generous to Mr. Priski, who nearly got us all shot, don’t forget that!” “That’s true!” said La Candeur, slightly flustered… there is no reason why we should do Mr. Priski a favor for nothing!… –I am happy to hear you say so!… what do you think, Mr. Priski?… –Gentlemen, I have already given you a chicken and three bottles of wine! –And you think that is enough for such a service?… protested Vladimir. –My God! this service consists of very little… It is simply a matter, as I was explaining just now to Monsieur Rothschild’s nephew… –Call me La Candeur, like everyone else… I travel incognito, explained the kind giant modestly. –So I was explaining just now to Mr. La Candeur that it was a matter only to pass a letter to Miss Vilitchkov, without Mr. Rouletabille noticing!… you wouldn’t have anything else to do… The rest is up to Miss Vilitchkov… You see how simple it is!… “It was this simplicity that immediately seduced me…” admitted La Candeur , searching with the tip of his knife for the delicate flesh hidden in the carcass of the chicken, his favorite piece… “And you think,” asked Vladimir, “that reading this letter would be enough to separate Miss Ivana from Rouletabille forever? ” “I’m sure of it!” affirmed Mr. Priski. “Mr.
Priski explained to me,” said La Candeur, “that this letter is a love letter that a great Turkish lord is sending to Ivana through the intermediary of that eunuch we saw at Karakoulé and who is called, I believe, Kasbeck!… ” “That’s it,” said Mr. Priski. Kasbeck had come to Karakoule to deliver that letter himself and prevent, if there was still time, the marriage of Miss Vilitchkov and Kara-Selim, whom you also called Gaulow!… but this marriage has not been consummated… “No!” said Candeur, pouring herself a drink from Mr. Priski’s bottle … “No! All is not yet lost!” “But what can this great Turkish lord possibly be telling this Ivana to make her decide to leave everything to join him?” asked Vladimir. “That!” said Mr. Priski, “I don’t know!… No one has told me!… He must be offering her some surprising things!… Kasbeck told me word for word: Priski, give her the letter and don’t worry about the rest!” She will come!… Do as I do, don’t worry about the rest!… What do you risk?… I came to you because you approach her every day and also, it must be said, because I have heard you several times moaning over the sad passion of your friend and cursing this Ivana who has already made you see all the colors!… I said to myself: Here are allies all found! “Mr. Priski!” interrupted Vladimir, “it’s two thousand levas!” “Here are a thousand,” said Mr. Priski at once, opening his wallet and taking out some notes which he handed to La Candeur. “I will give the other thousand when you have delivered the letter… ” “Take this money!” said La Candeur to Vladimir, “I don’t want to touch it… it seems to me that it would burn my hand… ” “You are right!” said Vladimir. There are things a French reporter cannot allow himself! ” And he pocketed the notes. “Here is the letter now,” said Mr. Priski, handing a sealed envelope to Vladimir. “Give it to the gentleman!” said Vladimir, pointing to La Candeur; “it is with him that you made an agreement, and I am only his servant!” But La Candeur again refused with great politeness: “You will understand, Mr. Priski, that I cannot touch this letter, having sworn to Rouletabille to watch over this young girl… If Rouletabille ever learned that, having sworn to do so, I secretly passed a letter of this nature to Mademoiselle Vilitchkov, he would never forgive me !… “And if he learned that it was through me that she came into possession of the letter, he would kill me on the spot…” said Vladimir. “Whether it was through one or the other, it is all the same to me!” said Priski; “but since you have taken the thousand levas from me, you must now take the letter from me!” “That’s exactly my opinion!” said Candor. “Well, take the letter, you!” said Vladimir. “I didn’t take the money, I don’t see why I should take the letter!” replied Candor. “Well, gentlemen, will you make up your mind?” asked Mr. Priski. “It’s all decided, I’m not taking the letter!” declared Vladimir. “Nor me either!” assured Candor. “In that case, give me back my thousand levas,” cried Mr. Priski. “You’re a mentally ill person, Mr. Priski!” said Vladimir. “Give me back your thousand levas!” levas! You’re not thinking!… But it’s our whole fortune!… No! No! I won’t give you back the thousand levas!… “But I only gave them to you,” cried Mr. Priski, who was beginning to get seriously angry, “as long as you took the letter…”
“Pardon! Pardon!… That was never the question…” said Candeur. ” You asked us to deliver a letter!” “Delivering a letter,” said Vladimir, “is not committing yourself to taking it!” If I were in your place, do you know what I would do, Mr. Priski?… Well, this letter, which is so important, I would not give it up! I would take it myself to Miss Vilitchkov; that way, I would be sure that the commission would be carried out!… “Eh!” said Mr. Priski, I’m all for it, but Mr. Rouletabille doesn’t leave her, Miss Vilitchkov! How do you expect me to get near her without him seeing me? “It’s quite simple,” explained Vladimir, “and that’s where we’ll earn our money honestly. We’ll distract Rouletabille while you go by and deliver the letter yourself … ” “If I told you I like it so much!” admitted Mr. Priski. “Then all that’s left is to sort out the details!” said Vladimir. “And Rouletabille is saved!” cried La Candeur, who was quite tipsy and was despairingly brandishing a glass and an empty bottle. Chapter 10. WHERE THE BYZANTINE CASKET IS TALKED ABOUT AGAIN In a suburb of Kirk-Kilissé, on the edge of the road leading west, deep in a grove, Rouletabille had found for Ivana and her companions a small kiosk from which they could observe the surroundings and where they could rest without being bothered by the movement of the troops. Curiously, it was at the young girl’s own request that Rouletabille had sought this retreat. Ivana seemed to be losing interest in the army, even fleeing it, at a time when her presence could have been useful in the ambulances. Finally, she had advised Rouletabille not to give her address to General Savof unless he asked for it . If he asked, he could not refuse, but then he would have to inform Ivana immediately. “To change address? ” “Yes,” she had replied nervously, “to change address!” Whereupon she began to pace with such agitation in the small room which had been reserved for her, that Rouletabille, pitying her and believing in all sincerity that she was on the point of going mad, did not want to leave her. He remained to watch over her and to write his telegrams, and he sent Tondor to fetch Vladimir and La Candeur, who arrived with their faces very red and were instructed to find General Dimitri Savof. At nightfall, Rouletabille was walking, his brow worried, in front of the door of the kiosk from which Ivana had not left all day. He had exchanged only insignificant words with her and had plunged back into correspondence that he had been unable to send, General Dimitri having replied to Vladimir that he had received superior orders recommending that he maintain the greatest secrecy around the battles of Petra, Seliolou and Demir-Kapou, victories that were not to be known, in detail, until later. Because of this and many other things, Rouletabille was therefore very morose when he was approached by the enormous shade of the good La Candeur who took him amicably by the arm. “Come,” the giant said to him, “I’ll show you something… ” “What?… ” “You’ll see… it’s very strange!…” “If I go away, there won’t be anyone to look after Ivana , and her increasingly bizarre attitude gives me cause for concern about people of all body types… ” “It’s very close to here… ” “What do you want to show me?” –You’ll see!… –Well! Call Vladimir, who will watch the kiosk while you show me what you want me to see! –It’s precisely Vladimir I want to show you. –I know him, there’s no need! –Yes, but you don’t know what he’s doing! –What’s he doing?… –He’s there, at the edge of a grove, talking to someone who’s dead!… –Are you drunk, La Candeur?… –I’m not drunk. I had a good lunch, but I’m not drunk! –Then what’s this story? –It’s a story about a ghost, come on!… And he attracted him; Rouletabille little by little gave in and followed him under the trees. –Just imagine, Vladimir is talking with Mr. Priski or with his shadow!… –The butler of the Karakoulé! –Himself!… my bullet, after all, perhaps didn’t kill him completely; and I wouldn’t be any the more upset, because, between us, we hadn’t behaved very well with dear Mr. Priski… But come on; what are you doing?… –How is Mr. Priski here? –I don’t know! We’ll go and ask him, come on!… (So saying, he had turned Rouletabille to the side opposite the kiosk door…) We must know what he wants from Vladimir! –Well! When he has finished talking with Vladimir, you will go and fetch Vladimir, and Vladimir will tell us what Mr. Priski told him, but I am not going another step… I do not want to leave Miss Vilitchkov all alone, defenseless, in the middle of all this soldiery that roams the roads… And he sat down on a mound from where he could still see the back of the kiosk and hear if necessary a cry or a call. “So you will always be as stupid!… I mean as in love…” said La Candeur in a groaning voice, sitting down next to the reporter so as to more or less hide the kiosk from him. “La Candeur, you smell of wine,” said Rouletabille in disgust, moving away a little. “It is quite possible,” replied La Candeur, for I drank a little. ” I had an excellent lunch at the table d’hôte of the Grand Turk’s inn.” Vladimir and I were very sorry you were gone… Ah! There he is, Vladimir… Look! Now he’s alone!… Good evening, Vladimir… I was just telling Rouletabille that you were deep in conversation with the shadow of Mr. Priski… “Ah! Ah! You saw me,” said Vladimir… “Well, it’s not a shadow at all, and this good Mr. Priski isn’t dead!” (And he sat down on the other side of Rouletabille.) “Between us, I was a little surprised to see him reappear!” “What’s he doing here? What does he want?” asked Rouletabille. “Yes,” said La Candeur, “what does he want? ” “Well, I don’t really know!” said Vladimir, “and I’ll admit, between us, that I found his questions strange. ” “Ah! Did he ask you questions?… –Yes, he asked me lots of details about Miss Vilitchkov… about how we escaped from the dungeon, etc., anyway, as it all seemed rather suspicious to me, I answered as little as possible. And he ended up leaving, seeing that he had nothing to get out of me… Rouletabille stood up: –Where is he? I want to speak to him right away… –Hey! He’s not far, replied Vladimir. He’s perhaps not fifty paces from here, on this path, under the trees… And Vladimir pointed in the opposite direction to the kiosk. Rouletabille rushed off. When they were alone, La Candeur said to Vladimir with a slight tremor in her voice: –That way, Rouletabille won’t have anything to reproach us for! We’ve warned him enough that Mr. Priski was prowling around Ivana! –Perfectly! replied Vladimir, and he will only have himself to blame if this Mr. Priski takes it away from him. “Do you think Mr. Priski is already in the kiosk?” asked Candeur. with a sigh. “I think so!… ” “Well, let him hurry up!” said La Candeur in a dull voice! “Yes! He’d better hurry up,” repeated Vladimir, “for Rouletabille, not finding him on the path, will come back! ” “And I,” added La Candeur, “I feel remorse overtaking me!… ” “Remorse!… ” “Oh!” moaned La Candeur, “it’s already overflowing, I’m having great difficulty holding it back… What we’re doing here is perhaps abominable? …” “But it’s for Rouletabille’s own good!” ” It’s the first time I’ve deceived him, and I reproach myself for it like a crime… ” “He’ll never know!” “Because, besides his subtle mind, he has a trusting heart! But is it for me to abuse it?” “It’s better that you deceive him than that Ivana he wants to make his wife…” said Vladimir. “My God, there he is!… I won’t dare look at him again…” Rouletabille was indeed coming back. “It’s funny,” he said, “I didn’t see anything, neither Priski nor anyone!… Let’s get back to the kiosk quickly!… ” “Is Miss Ivana better? Did she rest well?” asked Vladimir hypocritically. “Very well! Thank you,” replied Rouletabille, thoughtfully. Then suddenly, addressing La Candeur and taking both lapels of his frock coat: “La Candeur! You know what you promised me! To look after her as you do me! You wouldn’t want to hurt my feelings, would you?… I know you don’t love her, but you wouldn’t want to hurt my feelings!… Answer me, but answer me!…” “No! Don’t hurt me!” replied La Candeur, who was suffocating. “You see, I find you both a strange face, strange manners… What is this business about Mr. Priski!… Mr. Priski who comes to talk to you about Ivana!… Could she still be threatened from that quarter?… You should tell me!… “Ah! my God!” whispered La Candeur, “you frighten me to see you in such a state!… It’s true that this Mr. Priski doesn’t seem natural to me at all!… “You see!… Ah! I would like to know where he has gone to have disappeared so quickly!… If anything happened to Ivana,” he added, hurrying towards the kiosk, “I would accuse you both for not having brought this Mr. Priski to me! ” “Rouletabille!” “Shivered the voice of La Candeur, perhaps this Priski deceived us!… He made us believe that he was going away by this path, but perhaps… ” ” Perhaps?” “Perhaps?” ” Perhaps he is in the kiosk? ” ” If it is true, woe to you!” Rouletabille threw into the night and he leaped towards the kiosk. The windows were sufficiently lit for La Candeur and Vladimir, who had prudently remained behind, to see, in the embrasure of a window, a shadow, which was that of Rouletabille, throw itself on another shadow, which was that of Mr. Priski. “There is your work…” Vladimir said to La Candeur. “Priski is a scoundrel,” declared La Candeur with a great sigh of relief, “and I shall not regret having denounced Priski to Rouletabille if he had time to deliver the letter to Ivana!” “I doubt it,” said Vladimir. “We shall see…” They entered the kiosk in their turn and immediately had proof that Mr. Priski had not had time to deliver his message to Miss Vilitchkov, who appeared on the threshold of his room, surprised by all this noise. Mr. Priski was getting up while Rouletabille threatened him with a revolver. “What is it now, my friend?” asked Ivana in a tired voice, which betrayed a great dejection, an immense weariness of everything. “I don’t know!” replied Rouletabille, but perhaps this gentleman, whom you perhaps do not know, but who is called Mr. Priski, and who was formerly a butler at the Karakoulé, will want to tell us the reason for his unusual presence near you? Mr. Priski brushed his coat with great composure, asked Rouletabille to put away his revolver, bowed to Miss Vilitchkov, and said: “I wanted to see Ivana Hanoum; having learned while following these gentlemen (he was pointing to Vladimir and La Candeur, who were not sure how to behave) that she lived here, I went to this kiosk and entered this first room, without any malicious intent, I assure you. ” “What do you want?” Ivana asked again, dejectedly, while Rouletabille frowned at the Ottoman marital title stated by the former concierge of the Black Castle. “Madame, I have been sent to you by a friend of Kara-Selim, by Lord Kasbeck, honorably known in Constantinople and elsewhere, and who wishes you well!” At once, Rouletabille, remembering the strange conversation he had overheard at the Black Castle between this Kasbeck and Gaulow, turned scarlet and gave poor Priski a serious shake. “That is a very singular recommendation,” he cried, “and you have a fine effrontery to come here to speak to us about this miserable Kasbeck, and that in front of Miss Vilitchkov! ” “Madame, gentlemen, see in me only a humble emissary,” Mr. Priski said modestly, “and if I have been clumsy in telling you the whole truth, blame my clumsiness only on my frankness… ” Ivana had become as pale as Rouletabille was red; however, she said nothing and waited with a certain uneasiness for the other to explain himself completely. He continued: “You understand, I know nothing.” Lord Kasbeck has given me a commission, saying that I would certainly be welcome among you… I am beginning to doubt it… (and he rubbed his ribs again and brushed his coat…) “What commission?” asked Rouletabille roughly. “It seems,” said Mr. Priski, “that madame was very fond of a certain Byzantine casket which was found in the bridal apartment during the pillage of Karakoule by Kara-Selim’s own troops . ” “That’s true!” said Ivana, recovering her color, “that’s true… I was very fond of it; it’s a family keepsake! ” “That’s right… Well, this casket fell into the hands of Lord Kasbeck, who, he told me, is aware of your misfortunes and feels sorry for you!… He thought it would be a great relief for you to find this object again!…” “That’s right,” said Ivana. “And he asked me to give it to you just as he found it… ” “And how did he find it?” asked Rouletabille. “He found it in the ransacked room; the box was unfortunately empty of the jewels and souvenirs that, it seems, had been locked inside. ” “Then we no longer value the box, if the souvenirs are no longer there!” declared Rouletabille. “Excuse me,” said Ivana, “you don’t value it, but I do…” Rouletabille led the young girl into a corner: “Why?… I distrust that man. I distrust Kasbeck… Why do you value it? You know very well that all the documents in the secret drawer on the mobilization have lost all their value now that the victorious Bulgarians occupy Kirk-Kilissé!” “This casket is in itself a family keepsake,” she said, “and that is enough for me to hold on to it!” And turning to Priski: “Where is this casket?” she asked. But Rouletabille did not admit defeat: “This story doesn’t tell me anything worthwhile,” he insisted again. “Ivana! Ivana!… remember the role that this Kasbeck supposedly played in the disappearance of your sister Irene!” ” Exactly, I would like to see what he wants to do with me,” she said with a poor smile. “What danger do you see in this man bringing me the Byzantine casket here?… Can you bring it right away, Mr. Priski?… “Madame, in half an hour you will have it!” “Well,” Rouletabille proposed, “that is what we are going to do; I Don’t leave you, Ivana, because all this doesn’t seem clear to me; but La Candeur and Vladimir will accompany Mr. Priski to the place where the casket is, and they will return with the object to meet us here!… “Eh! Sir, I see no problem with that,” declared Mr. Priski, “on condition, however, that I return myself with the object. ” “Do you think that is absolutely necessary?” “Absolutely! What do I want?… To deliver the object, in person , to its recipient, as I was recommended, and then disappear. I will have done my errand!… You see that there was no reason to rush me so much for that!… “What do you say?” asked Rouletabille, very perplexed, looking at Ivana. “It’s a mystery to be cleared up,” she said in an icy voice; Since Mr. Priski agrees to follow the plan you yourself have drawn up, let these gentlemen go and get the casket! During all the time of this discussion, anyone who had examined La Candeur would have taken pity on the poor boy, so evident was it that a heart-rending struggle was taking place within him between his conscience on the one hand and his hatred of Ivana on the other. Finally, on Rouletabille’s orders, he left with Vladimir and Mr. Priski. Half an hour later, all three were back. They were carefully carrying the famous Byzantine casket, but La Candeur could hardly stand on his legs. Mr. Priski said: “Madam, here is your casket, I have the honor of greeting you.” And he left. La Candeur immediately threw himself in front of the casket and cried: “Don’t open it!” His emotion was such that Rouletabille was completely shaken. “What’s the matter? You know something!” “I don’t know anything; but don’t open it. There could be a bomb in there! That Priski is capable of anything!” “Well, run after him and bring him back! We’ll open it in front of him!” Vladimir and La Candeur went out, shouting: “Mr. Priski! Mr. Priski!” But they took care not to return with him, for if they accused him, he could easily denounce them as his accomplices. La Candeur preferred to accuse him when he wasn’t there! La Candeur returned, displaying great despair at not having found Mr. Priski. “He’s gone, flown away! This casket certainly hides some dirty trick! I must tell you, Rouletabille, that since this morning, Mr. Priski has been following us!” “Why are you only telling me about it now?” “Because we didn’t want to worry you… But he offered me a thousand francs, which I wouldn’t touch…” added poor La Candeur, breathless, choking with remorse. “And to me,” said Vladimir, “he wanted to give me an errand that I refused to do. ” “What errand?” asked Rouletabille, his anxiety at its height. “To take a letter to Miss Vilitchkov, secretly from you, quite simply! Can you imagine if I told him to get lost!” Vladimir immediately admitted, seeing that La Candeur was about to eat the piece. Rouletabille, extraordinarily impatient with these jeremiads, pushed La Candeur and Vladimir aside and abruptly opened the casket; it was quite empty. He lifted it on one side, discovered Sophie with cataracts, asked for a needle, which Candeur, who always had a supply of them on him, gave him, thrust it into the saint’s pupil, and activated the secret spring [See The Black Castle]. The drawer opened. Like the casket itself, it was empty. However, the reporter plunged his whole arm into it, and his hand came back with a letter; he didn’t even look at it: “Here is your letter,” he said to Ivana, handing it to her, “the letter that these gentlemen refused to bring you this morning!” And he stood up: “It was certain,” he added in a dull voice. The casket was only a pretext, and Lord Kasbeck had taken every precaution to ensure that This letter, even if its emissary could not approach you, could reach you! Ivana, trembling, unsealed the letter after reading the address: To Ivana Hanoum, and began to read. Meanwhile, Candeur seemed not to know where to put himself. He circled around Ivana in a disturbing way. He finally went to make sure that the windows were closed and pushed the door firmly. “What’s the matter with you? What are you doing? ” “I swore to watch over mademoiselle,” grumbled the giant, “so I close the windows and push the door. ” “Are you afraid she’ll fly away? ” “Do I know? That unfortunate Priski told us that as soon as she read this letter, mademoiselle would leave you. ” “Wretch!” roared Rouletabille, “and that’s why you became her accomplice! Ah!” I understand your attitude now, your manners! Your reticence! Your remorse!… Candeur, you are no longer my friend! There is no more Candeur for me, I no longer know you!… “Thank you!” sobbed Candeur, distraught, collapsing on the floor! But Ivana quickly put an end to this pathetic scene. She handed the letter to Rouletabille, still with her desolate smile. “But this letter is in Turkish!” said Rouletabille; translate then, Vladimir… It was a letter from Kasbeck: Madam, I learned, from Kara-Selim himself, the value you attached to your family casket since, to regain possession of it, you did not hesitate to agree to unite with the executioner of your father, your mother and your uncle… Having been able, myself, after the disappearance of Kara-Selim to approach the precious object, I discovered all its mystery, I am returning it to you empty! But I am keeping all the papers I found in the secret drawer. I am keeping them intact for you, in their envelopes and with their seals, convinced that you will have great joy in coming to collect them yourself. I expect you by October 27 at the latest at Dédéagatch. Upon reading this, Rouletabille burst into a furious burst of laughter that was very painful to hear. “Too late, thunder!” he cried. “Yes,” Ivana said simply, and went back into her room. “Then she’s not leaving! We can open the door, the windows…” cried La Candeur joyfully. “Do you forgive me, Rouletabille? ” “No!” replied Rouletabille. Chapter 11. OR ROULETABILLE RECEIVES NEWS FROM HIS JOURNAL Joseph Rouletabille! Order from Major-General Stanislawoff! At the same time as he pronounced this sentence in French, a staff officer jumped down from his horse at the door of the kiosk and saluted the young people. “What do you want from me, sir?” asked the reporter. “It’s an order that has just arrived from headquarters at the same time as a staff automobile. General Stanislawoff wishes to see you immediately, and I have been instructed to bring you back, as well as Miss Vilitchkov, if she is with you.” “She’s here,” said Rouletabille, “and we’re ready to follow you. Where is the general? ” “In Stara-Zagora. ” “We’re not there!” said Rouletabille. “We’ll be there tomorrow! We have the car. ” “The roads are abominable,” objected Vladimir. “If they were good,” replied the officer, “we’d be in Zagora tonight… Well, we’ll be there as soon as possible. Gentlemen, I ‘ll come back for you with the car in half an hour. You’ll inform Miss Vilitchkov. ” “All right,” replied Rouletabille, and he knocked at the girl ‘s door as the officer walked away. “Come in,” came Ivana’s voice. He found her standing right next to the door, with terrified eyes, holding onto the wall. “My God, what’s the matter with you?” asked the reporter. “I heard…” she whispered. –And it is the prospect of finding the major general again that puts you in this state? “What does he want from me?” “Well, I don’t know, but my opinion is that after what you’ve done for your country,” he added, very angrily, “you have nothing to be afraid of by such an interview!” She wrapped herself in a coat, sat down, and waited for the officer to return, looking like someone condemned to death. She was shivering. Rouletabille asked her if she was cold. She didn’t answer him. When the horn of the car was heard, she suddenly stood up, as if awakened with a start, and stared at the officer who was entering with her strange, frightened eyes. The officer introduced himself, bowed, kissed Ivana’s hand, and told her that all the friends of her family would be happy to see her again. She would certainly find some in Stara-Zagora. He mentioned names to her. She listened to him, more dead than alive. Rouletabille had to offer her his arm to get into the car. The three young people followed her. It was a horrible journey, hours of unspeakable fatigue… She didn’t complain. The next day, after nearly being left twenty times on the road, after being stopped at every moment by interminable troop movements, they arrived at Stara-Zagora. The car went immediately to the station, where the general slept in his train to be ready to go immediately to this or that point on the border, depending on events… There, they learned that the major-general had already left. He must be in town, at the home of a notable merchant, Anastas Arghelof, where he often held councils with General Savof and the President of the Chamber, Daneff, who represented the civil power to the general staff. But there we learned that the Major-General had gotten into a car with Mr. Daneff and had been driven in the direction of Mustapha Pasha, where the Bulgarian troops had recently won a victory. However, the young men saw General Savof, who informed them that the Major-General was very impatient to see them and that he asked them, if they had arrived before his return, to wait for him at Stara Zagora. “General,” said Rouletabille, “I am as eager to present my respects to General Stanislawoff as he is to see us, please believe me. And I regret that he is not here, because I have a great favor to ask of him, that of allowing my letters and telegrams to leave immediately for France. ” “That concerns me,” replied General Savof amiably. “I know that I can have confidence in you. General Stanislawoff has hidden nothing from me of what we owe you!” So I will be very pleased to spare you all the formalities of censorship. Give me all your papers and I will affix my seal to them. “Thank you, General!” Rouletabille looked for La Candeur, the custodian of the precious reports, but La Candeur had already left for the post office, in a hurry to collect his personal correspondence, Vladimir informed him. “General, I will write a few more lines, and in an hour I will arrive with all my packages; I am counting on you. ” “Understood,” replied General Savof; “meanwhile, I will have Miss Vilitchkov given the care that I think she greatly needs. ” “We will be grateful to you, General!” Rouletabille and Vladimir took their leave and went immediately to the door. “You will find all your colleagues there,” the general called to him again. Vladimir jumped for joy: “We’re going to see our colleagues again!… and Marko the Wallachian!… They’re going to ask us some questions!… I was told by Anastas Arghelof that they’re as if they’re mad, because we’re holding them tight!… They can’t send anything!… “All the same, I’m eager to have news of the newspaper,” Rouletabille admitted , preoccupied, and they quickened their pace . Stara-Zagora is a pretty little town at the foot of the hills. Its long , bumpy streets have all the character of the Near East. In the cafes in In the open air, under the vine-covered porticoes, the natives were chatting with the placidity seen only in sunny countries. “You’d think you were a hundred thousand leagues from the battle…” said Vladimir. “If that’s all the correspondents are allowed to see of the Thracian campaign, I understand why they must not be happy!” They just happened to meet a correspondent whom they recognized by his red armband. He was furious. “Nothing…” he told them. “We know nothing… We’re given a victory bulletin as sharp as a blow from a cudgel, and it’s with that, moreover , that we have to deliver thousands of words every day to the telegraph employees, who are going crazy, as you must imagine, with their three poor Morse devices… They don’t even have Hughes!… What a job!… So much moaning!… Only Marko the Wallachian is happy. ” “Why is that?” asked Vladimir, who, as we know, did not like Marko the Wallachian. “Eh! But because he sent some amazing correspondence to his newspaper. ” “Not possible! And how did he do it? ” “Ah! We don’t know that. ” “Well,” said Rouletabille, “it’s time to send something proper to the Era! They must be smoking over there if the competition has received such astonishing articles as that!” They arrived at the post office. Their colleagues greeted them with cries of joy and surprise. What had become of them? What had they been doing for the past two weeks?… Their colleagues had been very worried at first , but since they had found no interesting correspondence from Rouletabille in the newspapers sent from Paris , these gentlemen were reassured. And again: “Only Marko the Wallachian has managed to get by!” “He’s extraordinary, that guy,” they all affirmed. “And because of him, what we’ve been eng…” Rouletabille asked for his mail and first unsealed the letters that came to him from L’Époque with feverish haste. He turned pale. Everyone watched him read: “We’re not happy, are we?” “No, we’re not happy,” Rouletabille cried, “but that’s incredible!” And he read aloud: “Your silence is all the more incomprehensible since you can’t claim the impossibility of sending the promised correspondence about your trip across Istrandja-Dagh, given that our colleague, La Nouvelle Presse, is publishing one of the greatest interest and which has increased its circulation by more than four hundred thousand. These letters , signed Marko the Wallachian, relate events and facts which, without being historical, nonetheless captivate minds by their originality and also because of the setting in which they take place.” They deserved your attention. In short, it’s not only a failed attempt on your part, but a prodigious success for our colleague, and, for us, it’s shame and desolation… Our director can’t get over it and he’s asking your editor-in-chief to express his surprise to you. “Well, old man, you’ve got it!” they shouted at him. “Yes, he’s got his package too!” Vladimir, horribly vexed, as if these reproaches had been directed at him personally, bit his lips until they bled. Rouletabille, very agitated, stood up: “So Marko the Wallachian went to Istrandja-Dagh?” he asked. “Lady!” the others replied, “you can’t make up what he wrote… It’s too real, it’s too amazing… ” “And he was away for a long time?” “A week, no more!” But during those eight days, one can say that he didn’t waste his time. “And do you have these letters from the Nouvelle Presse?” “Perfectly,” they all replied. “You only have to go to the Lion d’Or hotel where we are all staying… you’ll see them, you’ll be able to read them…” “Good! Good!…” Rouletabille was a sorry sight. “Come, Vladimir,” he said. “Where is La Candeur? ” “La Candeur is at the Hôtel du Lion d’Or!” they replied. “As soon as we told him about Marko’s correspondence, he wanted to read it too, can you believe it! ” “And where is the Hôtel du Lion d’Or?” “We’ll take you there!” Rouletabille’s crestfallen expression amused them too much for them to leave him. They all accompanied him to the hotel. The first person Rouletabille saw in the reading room was La Candeur. He was bent over a stack of newspapers he had just looked through and was finishing reading an article, his eyes bulging out of his head, his whole face flushed. At the noise the reporters made as they entered, he raised his head, saw Rouletabille, and for a moment one might fear that this tall fellow would fall there, struck down, the victim of a fit of anger. “Ah! well…” he murmured. And that was all he could say. Rouletabille threw himself on the newspapers. It didn’t take him long to realize the crime. They were his articles! Rouletabille’s articles signed Marko the Wallachian! “When I told you, in the tent, that our nocturnal visitor was Marko!” cried Vladimir, triumphant. “It was he who was circling around us to steal our articles. He’s not capable of writing ten lines. I know him well!… All the same, it’s steep!…” Rouletabille continued to read… There was the entire first part of their journey to Istrandja-Dagh, which he had dictated to La Candeur. Not a paragraph, not a period, not a comma was missing. The reporter, pale with suppressed fury, said to La Candeur: “Show me the briefcase!” It was the first word he had addressed to him since the day before. La Candeur opened his briefcase and said in a dying voice: “I don’t understand anything… All the articles are still there…” And he took out the numbered and dated envelopes, each containing the day’s article. “Show me the articles!” La Candeur, trembling more and more, took the articles from the envelopes and unfolded them: white paper!… Exactly, white paper! As for Rouletabille’s articles, they had slipped into Marko the Wallachian ‘s pocket !… “The bandit!” cried Vladimir, “where is he?” ” Yes! Let him come!” murmured La Candeur, clenching his terrible knuckles, “I need to strangle him! ” “Oh!” He’s not far away, they replied, he lives in the hotel. The colleagues were jubilant over the incident. “What, you, Rouletabille! You’re the one who lets yourself be taken in like this!” Rouletabille shut their mouths: “Yes,” he said in an icy tone, “and I’m bragging about it! I didn’t want to believe that a man who calls himself a journalist, whose hand you shake every day and whom you treat like a colleague, was a thief and a murderer!” They exclaimed. Then Rouletabille, in a few words, informed them of the facts. Marko the Wallachian had followed them on the trail in Istrandja-Dagh, intrigued to see them take such mysterious paths when all the correspondents remained in Sofia; he had entered their tent at night; he had seized the correspondence he had sent to Paris under his name, and then he had done even worse than that! To get rid of the competition from the representative of the Epoch, he had not hesitated to denounce Rouletabille and his companions to the Turkish authorities as spies of General Stanislawoff, at the risk of having them shot! The reporter recounted their arrest by the agha. When he had finished on this subject, a chorus of curses arose in the direction of Marko the Wallachian. “He is a wretch. We must take revenge,” cried some. “We must denounce him,” threatened others. Suddenly Vladimir said: “Look out, there he is!” “Leave it to me,” Rouletabille begged. “It’s up to me to treat him as he deserves. As for you, La Candeur! You no longer have a say in the matter! I beg you not to interfere in anything!… My affairs are no longer yours!” So saying, he was making the issues of the Nouvelle Presse disappear into the briefcase he had taken from La Candeur, who was truly a sorry sight. Marko the Wallachian entered the living room, seemingly unaware of anything. Suddenly , he saw Rouletabille. He turned a little pale, and then, forcing himself to put on a brave face, he went over to the reporter: “Well! Rouletabille,” he said, “what has become of you? Everyone here was very worried about your fate… ” Rouletabille shook his hand with great ease. “That’s what my colleagues told me,” he replied. “But fortunately, nothing unpleasant has happened to us.” We took a short tour of Istrandja-Dagh and, after a few adventures of no great importance, we had the good fortune to witness the capture of Kirk-Kilissé. “Truly!” cried all the brethren. “My compliments!” said Marko the Wallachian, whose brow darkened… it must have been a fine day! I heard that the battle was fierce! “Oh! terrible!” proclaimed Rouletabille. “I have not yet witnessed anything comparable! We fought for more than twenty-four hours in this town with a rage, a despair among these, an enthusiasm among those which, in my opinion, has not yet been achieved in any modern battle! ” “Oh! tell us about it!” cried all the reporters. You can give us these few details… it won’t prevent you from having the first news… “I have never been a bad colleague,” said Rouletabille, “and I have never refused a service to a comrade. Well, then, know that Mahmoud Mouktar Pasha’s troops had entrenched themselves strongly behind the works of Kirk-Kilissé and that the Bulgarians had to sacrifice entire brigades to force the forts of Baklitza and Skopos! These places were taken after a formidable struggle which began again in the streets of Kirk-Kilissé! The Turks, from street to street, defended themselves in the most heroic fashion, transforming each house into a small fortress… It was necessary to storm the governor’s palace… it was necessary… Rouletabille spoke thus for more than a quarter of an hour, imagining a capture of Kirk-Kilissé which had never existed and taking the opposite view, at every moment, of the truth. He gave the most precise and the most significant details relating to a battle which he invented from scratch , moving regiments which had not even taken part in the battles of Demir-Kapou and Petra, putting into the mouths of certain Bulgarian generals historical words which were later to make them laugh and which were intended to cover with ridicule the imbecile who had reported them. It was magnificent, it was colorful, it was, as they say, well lived!… –Ah! Well, you’d think we’d got it, said his colleagues, all taking notes with understandable haste. “And you’ve already sent all that?” they asked Rouletabille. Rouletabille, who had finally finished his story, looked around, saw that Marko the Wallachian had already run off with his treasure trove of notes on the taking of Kirk-Kilissé and said: “No, gentlemen!… I haven’t sent any of that!… because it’s all false! because it never happened… So be careful not to telegraph a word of all this nonsense that will fill at least three columns of the Nouvelle Presse under the signature of Marko the Wallachian. The truth that I urge you to telegraph is this, which La Candeur himself will telegraph at the Époque: Kirk-Kilissé was occupied by the Bulgarian troops without a shot being fired. The armies of General Radko Dimitrief found not a single living soul in the city from which the Ottomans had fled in an incomprehensible panic, the likes of which are perhaps unparalleled in history! Stunned at first, the correspondents understood that Rouletabille had just taken revenge on Marko the Wallachian! And how! They applauded this good-natured reply that the Wallachian had not stolen. “He’s finished!” they said. ” From now on, he will be considered a liar and a bluffer! He will no longer be possible anywhere! No serious newspaper will want him anymore! We’re rid of him!” “And now, the rest of us,” Rouletabille said to La Candeur and Vladimir, ” we’ll have to work, and shut up! Is there still a room free here? ” “You’d like me to work with you again!” cried La Candeur. “Why, yes! You idiot! Only this time, leave the briefcase to Vladimir.” He’s more scoundrel than you, but he’s less stupid! –Thank you! They found a room. Five minutes later, Rouletabille began dictating an article to Vladimir, while he sent La Candeur first to the telegraph to deliver a succinct dispatch on the capture of Kirk-Kilissé, then to Anastas Arghelov, to get news of General Stanislawoff. The article from L’Époque that he was dictating began thus: Our colleague La Nouvelle Presse has published, under the signature of Marko le Valaque, a very interesting series of correspondence relating a trip by his special correspondent and his secretaries to Istrandja-Dagh. The readers of La Nouvelle Presse regretted that this series was suddenly suspended without being given a reason. Let them console themselves! They will now be able to find, in L’Époque, the continuation of these very dramatic adventures of three reporters in a country ravaged by a terrible battle. Only these articles will henceforth be signed Joseph Rouletabille, our special correspondent having taken precautions so that Marko the Wallachian would not steal them from him, this time, as he had succeeded in doing the first time!… Having finished this little chapeau, Rouletabille entered the heart of the tragedy they had experienced in the land of Gaulow, and he was beginning to describe the majestic Hôtel des Étrangers [The Black Castle], when La Candeur made his entrance. He seemed rather worried. “Well,” Rouletabille asked him, “and Stanislawoff? ” “He’s back!” La Candeur said, puffing. “He arrived a few minutes after we left. ” “Let’s run then!” Rouletabille said. “No need, he’s gone again! ” “What, gone again? ” “Yes, he’s gone again in his car. He’s letting you know that he’ll see you this evening or this night, as soon as he returns. ” “Ah! What a farce!” the reporter grumbled. He’s sending for me because he absolutely needs to see me, and as soon as I arrive, he’s gone! If he doesn’t care about my visit, he should leave me to work in peace! Where were we, Vladimir? “Rouletabille,” continued La Candeur, who seemed more and more annoyed, ” the major-general didn’t leave on his own. ” “What do you think I care! ” “He left with Ivana Vilitchkov! ” “Huh? ” “I’m telling you what I’ve been told. Miss Vilitchkov is no longer at Mr. Anastas Arghelov ‘s hotel ! ” “So the general took her? And why? And where?… ” “But I don’t know!” Rouletabille leaped out of the room, out of the hotel, ran to Anastas Arghelov’s, and there he had the good fortune to meet General Savof right away. “Ivana Vilitchkov?” –Left with General Stanislawoff!… And as General Savov saw the reporter upset, he reassured him at once. The Major-General had only been passing through. He had had a short interview with Miss Vilitchkov, and as he was leaving for the outposts, Ivana had begged him to take her with him… She was curious to see the scene of the battle!… –To see the scene of the battle! But she’s coming back! –A young girl’s whim… and then I think the Major-General needed to talk with her… Calm down, nothing terrible can happen to her… The Major-General considers her his ward and loves her like his daughter. He will bring her back to you safe and sound before this evening… added Savof with a smile. Rouletabille returned to the Lion-d’Or hotel, somewhat reassured… and he continued to dictate his articles all day. Chapter 12. OR ROULETABILLE REALIZES THAT HE HAS NOT YET FINISHED WITH THE BYZANTINE CASKET From time to time, La Candeur went to see if General Stanislawoff and Ivana had not returned. But they did not return either that day or the following night, which Rouletabille spent in work and worry. The next morning, still no one!… Rouletabille could tell himself: She’s with the major-general, no danger threatens her!, but he was nonetheless distraught. To avoid thinking about this absence, which was inexplicably prolonged , he threw himself back into his work with determination. It was noon the next day, and his colleagues were sitting down at the table d’hôte of the Lion d’Or, when clamor, cries of exasperation, a whole tumult of people of all types suddenly rose from the dining room. And La Candeur appeared, his face scarlet as happened to him in moments of intense emotion. –Rouletabille! Rouletabille!… –What’s the matter now?… Is it Stanislawoff this time? –No, it’s Marko the Wallachian!… –Well, what’s the matter with him?… –He gets a congratulatory telegram and his salary and expenses are doubled after his account of the capture of Kirk-Kilissé! –No!… –It’s just as I told you!… And how he laughs, old man!… how he makes fun of us all!… What an important thing he does! –Alas, alas! moaned Vladimir. It’s enough to kill him!… –He shows the telegram to everyone!… but it’s not the best part! –What now? –It’s the others who are furious!… furious with you!… They’ve all received dispatches that are enraging them…!… There are some who are threatened with being thrown out because they telegraphed that Kirk-Kilissé was taken without a fight, while the Nouvelle Presse gives all the details of a terrible massacre! –A dispatch for Mr. Rouletabille! announced a servant. Rouletabille opened the telegram. He read aloud: If you are ill, have Marko the Wallachian replace you! His account of the taking of Kirk-Kilissé is admirable! Signed: The EDITOR-IN-CHIEF. Rouletabille was overwhelmed when the door of the room opened again in front of all the correspondents who were cursing both Marko the Wallachian, who had sent such a fine dispatch, and Rouletabille, who had prevented them from doing the same. –But when I tell you that it’s false! shouted Rouletabille. “What do you want us to care if it’s false! Here! Read it!” And they made him read a dispatch from the eleven o’clock newspaper to his special correspondent: “They didn’t send you to Kirk-Kilissé to telegraph us that nothing is happening there!…” With that, they went downstairs, brandishing fountain pens and declaring that from now on they wouldn’t be so stupid and that something would always happen! A correspondent took La Candeur aside and whispered in his ear, pointing to Rouletabille: “Hey, La Candeur! What’s the matter with him? Rouletabille doesn’t seem to be having a good time in the Balkan battle! ” “He has,” La Candeur replied cowardly, “that he’s in love! … So, you understand!… ” “Yes, you’ll tell me that much! It doesn’t take much more to stupefy a Poor young man!… At that moment, an officer came in and asked for Rouletabille. “The major-general has arrived,” he told him, “and would like to see you. ” “I’ll go,” said Rouletabille, immediately on his feet. “Did he come back with Miss Vilitchkov? ” “No, I don’t think so!… I only saw him come back with his orderly officers. ” “Great!” burst out La Candeur. Rouletabille turned his face away, his face in confusion: “Go away, sir!” he said to La Candeur. “May I never find you in my way again!… Come, Vladimir!” And he followed the officer, pale as a ghost. As he passed, Vladimir said to La Candeur, who had fallen into a chair: “Don’t be upset, my boy!” You can always offer your services to Marko the Wallachian!… Ten minutes later, Rouletabille was before the major-general, who did not hold back his warmest congratulations for his campaign on Istrandja-Dagh. The reporter bowed: “Excuse me, General!… but I am worried about Miss Vilitchkov… ” “Why is that?” asked Stanislawoff, with a kind smile, for he was not unaware of Rouletabille’s feelings for Ivana. “I must tell you, General, that for the past few days Miss Vilitchkov, tired out by terrible adventures that she may have reported to you… ” “Yes, I know,” said Stanislawoff. “… is in a rather weak moral state…” ” Really, it did not seem to me…” “She is dejected…” “Dejected!” Come on!… On the contrary, I found her full of energy… –And I left her completely overwhelmed… so I was quite astonished to learn that she had accompanied you to the outposts and I was even more worried when I learned that you were returning without her… –Miss Vilitchkov has, in fact, been absent for several days, said the general, making Rouletabille sit down; but that is nothing to worry you about. She told me herself that she would be back at the very place where I will be in a week at the latest! –Thank you for these kind words, General! although this absence seems to me completely inexplicable… –So, I will explain it to you, said Stanislawoff, since it is understood, he added with a smile, that I have no secrets from you… –Oh! General!… –I was eager to see you, first to congratulate you. The service you have rendered us, I will never forget! Rouletabille was on tenterhooks. He had not come to be spoken to about himself, but about Ivana. –It is thanks to you, sir, continued Stanislawoff, that we were able to act in complete safety, certain that our secret plans for mobilization and campaign had remained unknown to the enemy. –We found them intact, in the secret drawer of the Byzantine casket, said Rouletabille, who was suffering martyrdom and mentally sending the Byzantine casket to the devil. –That is what Miss Vilitchkov told me, whom I found here on my return and who told me in what dramatic conditions you had discovered the sealed envelopes from the general staff! “Miss Vilitchkov, General, must have told you that we didn’t have time to get hold of them and that we had to hastily close the drawer where they were hidden and where no one suspected their presence… ” “Miss Vilitchkov,” the general continued in a grave voice, “also told me that you had seen the Byzantine casket again yesterday, that you had opened the drawer and that you had noticed, this time, that the folds had indeed disappeared. ” “That’s true! But we didn’t worry about it, because it appeared to us that the secret of this drawer had been discovered too late by your adversaries, since the mobilization plans it contained were now known to all by the victory of your armies! ” “Unfortunately, sir,” the general expressed in an increasingly The serious thing is that these envelopes did not only contain our plans for mobilization and attack… “What else, General?” asked Rouletabille, more and more agitated and frightened by the turn the conversation was taking. ” Some of these envelopes,” Stanislawoff continued, “contain the most precise indications on our system of military espionage both in Thrace and Macedonia and in Constantinople itself. The worst thing is that the name and address of our spies in Constantinople are written out there, along with the code of the correspondence that allows us to communicate with them! ” Rouletabille stood up. “Oh! he said, we did not know that!… –If these envelopes have been opened by our enemies, it is not only, for us, the necessity of reconstituting on new bases a new system of espionage, which would cause us a lot of embarrassment at this moment, but it is also death, it is certain execution for twenty devoted servants that we maintain in Constantinople! This prospect did not seem to throw Rouletabille into boundless despair. He was still thinking, in this new imbroglio, only of Ivana… –General! he interrupted, what did Miss Vilitchkov say to you when you told her this? –At first she seemed as frightened as I was, and then she seemed to come to her senses and told me that it depended solely on her whether these documents would return to our possession within a few days without the enemy having any knowledge of them. She knew where the envelopes were and had no doubt that they would be given to her if she went to get them herself! “Ah! my God,” cried Rouletabille, “that’s right! That’s right ! Oh! That’s awful, General! So what? So then? So Miss Vilitchkov went to get them! And she told you she would bring them back to you within a week? Yes, within a week! She won’t bring them back to you, General! She lied to me then? No! For you will have the envelopes, and your spies will be safe. But she, General, she! She won’t come back! What do you mean? She left for Dedeagatch, didn’t she? Yes, for Dedeagatch? She asked me for a car. I had my strongest carriage given to her and I brought with it three Turkish prisoners, notables of Istrandja who knew Kara-Selim, the husband, it seems, of Ivana Vilitchkov, for Ivana Vilitchkov is now Ivana Hanoum! according to what she told me?… –That’s right! General!… –And her husband is dead!… –Yes, General!… –These Turkish notables, as the price of their freedom, promised me to protect and take their new co-religionist to Dedeagatch! –General, I tell you, I tell you, you will see the envelopes again, but you will never see Miss Vilitchkov again!… This news was not calculated to upset a mind as methodical… and patriotic as that of General Stanislawoff. would much rather return to possession of the secret envelopes than see Ivana Vilitchkov again, however charming she was. However, the young reporter’s obvious despair finally touched him, and he asked him with signs of the deepest interest the reasons why he thought he would never see his ward again. “Because, General, he was offered to exchange these letters for her freedom, for her honor!… for her life!… And he recounted the story of the day before, he repeated the terms of the letter brought into the casket by Mr. Priski, messenger of Kasbeck the Circassian!… “Oh!” said the General, “the noble girl!… “General, it is an act of dreadful despair!… “It is a magnificent sacrifice!… “It would have been useless, General, if I had known him earlier!… But, now, now!… When do you think that Miss Vilitchkov will arrive at Dédéagatch?… –Perhaps she is already there! At least I hope so!… –Yes! It is all over! moaned the unfortunate Rouletabille. There is nothing more to be done!… And he collapsed on a seat, sobbing! The general came to take his hand and tried to console him, but, in his tears, Rouletabille would not hear anything… He asked forgiveness for his weakness and permission to withdraw. The general escorted him to the threshold of his apartment and there said to him:
–You affirmed just now that if you had known these things earlier, you would have made this sacrifice useless… how is that? Can you explain it to me? –Oh! General, I would only have had to say to you: Your system of espionage will have to be reconstituted, it’s true, but Miss Vilitchkov, your ward, will be saved!… Your men, in Constantinople, will be warned, warned by me who will still arrive in time to make them flee before their names are disclosed !… Under these conditions, would you not have been the first to prevent Miss Vilitchkov from sacrificing herself thus?… “Certainly!” said the general, “and I am very sorry to have seen you so late!”… Whereupon, after having addressed a few kind words to this poor boy, he politely showed him the door. Outside, Rouletabille was walking like a drunken man, supported by Vladimir. A staff officer joined him: “Monsieur Rouletabille,” said this officer, “I’ve been looking for you everywhere! I have a letter to give you from Miss Vilitchkov. ” “When and where did she give it to you?” cried the reporter, his legs trembling. “But, yesterday morning, here, before he left! ” “And now you’re giving it to me! ” “It was Miss Vilitchkov’s wish, even her order, that this letter should not be given to you, sir, until this hour!” Rouletabille tore off the envelope and read: ” Farewell forever! Little Zo! I loved you, and yet you doubted it!” Chapter 13. OR CANDOR NO LONGER DOUBTS THAT ROULETABILLE HAS BECOME A MENTALLY ILL PERSON.” It was short, but it was enough to upset the reporter. Until the moment when he was given the chance to read these two sentences written by Ivana’s hand, Rouletabille had believed that the young girl’s last act had been dictated by the gloomy despair into which he had seen her plunged by the terrible end of Kara-Selim. Had she not shown, since that tragic moment, an absolute detachment from life? Had she not, before the reporter’s eyes, sought death twenty times?… And now, suddenly, in this collapse, the opportunity had presented itself to her to render one last service to her country before disappearing! She had seized it eagerly, perhaps also to raise herself up in her own eyes! This is how things presented themselves and were explained to the reporter’s overwhelmed mind when someone came to bring him this letter and he read it!… Now, this letter told him that Ivana loved him, Rouletabille! She loved him and he had doubted it!… A woman who is going to disappear forever, a woman who is going to enter the tomb, that is to say, the harem of Abdul-Hamid, this woman is not lying! So she loved him! And she had done this?… Why?… why?… why?… Why this despair? And why this madness… if it was really Rouletabille that she loved?… For the necessity of such a sacrifice, as the reporter had told the general, was not demonstrated… And in any case, this story of spies was not worth ruining their love, if she loved him!… For her to have imagined accomplishing this, the brutal fact of her sacrifice, which was only the conclusion of her despair, had to have been preceded by an event which had struck their love without it being known doubted! … That was the whole question! How and by what had their love been ruined? That was what he had to know! Sure of being loved, Rouletabille began to reason again, to grasp the good end of the reason that his moral misery had made him completely abandon. Now he realized it: unhappy, struck to the heart, he had been neither more nor less than a poor man, like all the other poor men who are no longer good for anything as soon as the woman he loved seems to turn away from them! Would the certainty of being loved restore his lucidity, his marvelous faculty of understanding who had once distinguished him in the universe? It had to be done. He returned home as if in a dream, already beginning to grope more logically in this imbroglio. He locked himself in his room, giving himself two hours to resolve the problem. He remained there with his head in his hands until nightfall. Meanwhile, La Candeur prowled and grumbled around the house. A dog chased away with kicks does not cause more lamentable pain around its master’s house than that of La Candeur sent away by Rouletabille. He had followed Rouletabille from a distance when the latter went to see the king: he had followed him a little closer when he returned to the hotel, but without making his presence known, merely looking at him with a desperate look that was met with nothing but indifference… Rouletabille had not even seen him!… Vladimir had then gone down to dinner. He had wanted to drag La Candeur to the table d’hôte, but La Candeur had answered him by barking something desperate. Finally, La Candeur slipped surreptitiously down the stairs and lay down on the doormat of Rouletabille’s room, in front of the closed door, determined to spend the night there and making occasional muffled yelps that no longer had anything human about them. Suddenly, Rouletabille uttered such a frightening cry of pain that La Candeur, on his feet in a second, threw down the door with his shoulder and rushed into the room. By the light of a lamp, he saw Rouletabille standing there, his chest oppressed, which he was tearing with his nails, his face tragic, his eyes wide open, as if possessed by terror. La Candeur opened his arms and received Rouletabille to his heart, sobbing: “What is it?… What is it?… “It’s just that she loves me!” cried Rouletabille, weeping too, and returning the embrace of the good giant… “And that’s why you’re crying? And that’s why you’re shouting?… But if she loves you, my little Rouletabille, if she loves you, marry her!… “She loves me, and we are separated forever!… Do you understand?… Separated by something dreadful… dreadful!… dreadful!… Ah! the unhappy woman!… And unhappy woman that I am! It’s all over!… And I who accused her!… I have nothing left to do but die!… “Come on! Come on! No nonsense!” growled the giant, “no words like that or I’ll get angry!… And first of all, I’d like to know why you can’t marry each other, for example!… It’s not because she made this marriage that doesn’t count with this Teur!… “No!” That’s not why our marriage is impossible, my good La Candeur!… It’s because… Oh! It’s dreadful, I tell you!… –Why? — Because her husband is dead! … –What! You can’t marry the woman you love because her husband is dead? … It was beyond La Candeur’s strength to hear any more. He let Rouletabille slide onto a chair and went to finish crying silently in the shadows, on a corner of the sofa: My poor Rouletabille has become mentally ill!… At the same time, he felt rising within him The pangs of remorse! It’s all my fault! he reasoned with himself; Rouletabille has become mentally ill because of Miss Vilitchkov’s departure! And if Miss Vilitchkov has left, it’s because of me, who didn’t warn Rouletabille right away about the bad intentions of that unfortunate Priski!… He had, however , warned me well; as soon as she had read the letter, hadn’t he said: “You won’t have to worry about anything anymore, she’ll go away on her own! Well, now I can be happy, she’s gone!” And he beat his chest with his fists… “It’s my fault!” he moaned, “it’s my fault!” Rouletabille himself had to calm him down. “But come on, we can’t stay like this!… We must try something,” suggested La Candeur. “Nothing at all!” replied Rouletabille, shaking his head. Ivana would be here now, you hear!… that it would be of no use to us!… She would perhaps kiss me one last time and I would only have to let her go!… –It’s dreadful!… –Yes, dreadful! –My poor Rouletabille!… –My good La Candeur!… At that moment, the interpreter appeared and announced to Rouletabille that there was a monk there who asked to speak to M. La Candeur. –A monk! said La Candeur! I don’t know a monk, I!… –He says yes, sir, he says he knows you!… –What is that monk’s name?… –I asked him, but he answered me word for word that he no longer had a name, because he no longer wanted to use the name given to him by men and he still doesn’t know the one God will give him!… –I wish they would leave me alone, declared Rouletabille. “You will tell your Capuchin,” La Candeur said in a doleful voice, “that he should come back when he has a name! ” But the door was gently pushed open, and in its frame appeared the silhouette of a monk of tall and handsome stature, dressed in a coarse robe, girded with a rope, and wearing a hood; the hood fell off, and La Candeur cried out: “Monsieur Priski!” “Himself,” said the monk, advancing, “to serve you, in this world and in the next, as much as I can! ” La Candeur was already smoking. He sent the hotel interpreter away, closed the door, and said, crossing his arms: “If it were up to me, Monsieur Priski! It would be in the other! For I have a terrible desire to send you there at once to expiate your sins!” “Not before,” replied Mr. Priski, “I have given you the thousand francs I still owe you! ” “You have a great nerve!” cried La Candeur, suddenly more embarrassed than one could say. “You know very well, Mr. Priski, that I never wanted to receive your money! ” “It’s as you wish!” replied the other, putting back into his pocket a wad of notes that he had already taken out. “I will offer them to my poor!” Here, Rouletabille came out of the shadows. “So you are entering the convent, Mr. Priski?” he asked. “Yes, sir,” said the monk, stepping back a little, for he had not expected Rouletabille’s presence and had not come to see him. “Yes, I am entering the convent. It has been my lifelong dream to enter a good convent!…” “And which convent, if you please?” “My God!” Sir, I believe I am going to enter a convent on Mount Athos!… –They say they are very beautiful! –Magnificent! Sir, magnificent!… –And it is to announce this news to us that you have come to Stara-Zagora? –Alas! Sir, I cannot affirm it!… –What is the reason for this journey, Monsieur Priski? –My God, sir, I am a little embarrassed to tell you, and he stepped back again. Rouletabille went to put himself between the door and this strange monk. –You will not leave here, Monsieur Priski, without having said; not that I am very curious at the moment and that I attach great importance to the events of life, but as, each time that we have had to deal with you, unpleasantness has happened to us, I want at this moment to know what has earned us the honor of your proximity… –Sir, if I tell you, you will find me very bold!… And it is precisely because, without meaning to, certainly, I have caused you a lot of pain up to now, that I would not like to cause you more! –If you do not speak, Mr. Priski, I will have you thrown into a dungeon by the soldiers of General Stanislawoff with whom I am on the best of terms, and then I will have you shot like an agent of the Turks! –Sir, I’m going to tell you the truth since you demand it… It couldn’t be simpler… I was telling you just now that I had always wanted to enter a convent on Mount Athos, where I once led travelers as an interpreter. Young as I was, I could judge that it was really only there that one knew how to live, while preparing for a beautiful death. But to enter this convent, one needs money, a lot of money. For this purpose, I forced myself to put some aside, but it was stolen from me, at the Karakoulé during the stay you made me make, against my will, in the cellar of the dungeon! –Let’s move on, Mr. Priski. –Having no more money, I could no longer, alas! hoping to enter the convent and I was very desolate about it, when it happened that in the midst of the latest events and as I had just arrived at Kirk-Kilissé, the day before the general rout, I was recognized by Lord Kasbeck, who had the honor not long ago, I believe, of being introduced to you… –Go, Mr. Priski, go!… –This lord said to me: –Priski, do you want to earn some money? –I would like to earn a lot! I replied. –Well! he said, I will give you such a sum immediately if you undertake a commission that I am going to tell you about, and I will give you as much if the commission is successful. –Now, see the miracle! Monsieur Rouletabille, remarked the monk, the addition of these two sums was exactly what I needed to enter the convent!… I saw there like the finger of Providence and I immediately accepted Lord Kasbeck’s commission… It is there, sir, that I begin to be embarrassed… –Recover yourself… and let’s move on from the story of the letter that I know, said Rouletabille. –Sir, I must tell you that I did not know what was in the letter… –Yes, but you knew that as soon as this letter was received, Miss Vilitchkov was to leave me… –I knew that, sir, but I was not sure. The thing was so uncertain that Miss Vilitchkov, who received the letter at Kirk-Kilissé, followed you to Stara-Zagora… –All that does not tell me what you came to do here, bandit!… –My God! Sir, I thought I had made myself sufficiently understood… I came because I wanted to know if Miss Vilitchkov, who did not leave you at Kirk-Kilissé, had not left you at Stara-Zagora. Candeur, outraged by so much cynicism, raised his fist. “In your place! Candeur!” ordered Rouletabille. And, turning to the monk: “She left me, Monsieur Priski! You can be happy!” “Sir, believe me, I understand your desolation,” said Monsieur Priski. ” But on the other hand, you will grant me that after having taken on a commission that another would have done if I had refused it, I could not lose interest in it and that it was quite natural that I should come here to inquire if it had succeeded. –And if you have earned the second part of the sum that you need!… Yes, Mr. Priski, yes… I understand that… You can go!… –And I will be able to enter the convent… “Not before you have received the second part of the sum, Monsieur Priski!” “Gentlemen! I will receive it at once. ” “To Dédéagatch!” said Rouletabille. “Yes, to Dédéagatch. But how do you know?” “What does it matter to you, Monsieur Priski? Go to Dédéagatch and hurry!” If I have any advice to give you, don’t delay on the way, for I have a feeling that Monsieur Kasbeck will not wait long for you at Dédéagatch. “And why is that?” ” Quite simply because Monsieur Kasbeck is not expecting you long at Dédéagatch as much as he was expecting Miss Vilitchkov, and as there is a chance that Miss Vilitchkov will have arrived at Dédéagatch this evening, it could very well be that they are both preparing to leave tomorrow morning without waiting for you. ” “Ah! my God!” cried the monk, and he ran to the door. “Don’t worry,” added Rouletabille, “because if you go from Dedeagatch to Mount Athos, you will surely meet Lord Kasbeck on the way!… ” “And where is Lord Kasbeck going? If you can tell me, I will forgive you for everything you have made me endure,” sighed the monk. “I will tell you, Mr. Priski, and I will also forgive you for everything you have made us suffer, if you, in turn, will do me a little favor… ” “Speak, Mr. Rouletabille…” “You are very clever, I see, at delivering letters, Mr. Priski… ” “My God! It has always been something of my profession… ” “Well! I will ask you to send one to Ivana Hanoum! ” “Oh! Sir, it is as if it were already done. You can count on me,” swore the monk. –So, wait!… Rouletabille approached the table and wrote: I have understood everything, my love. Forgive me! Your little Zo says goodbye to you forever. He will not outlive you. He had not written the last word of this supreme message when a sob burst out behind him. He turned around. It was La Candeur who had read the letter over his shoulder. –Oh! Rouletabille! Rouletabille! moaned La Candeur, it’s not true, tell me, that you are going to die?… Tell me it’s not true!… Rouletabille, moved by this fraternal grief almost as much as by his own , nodded slowly, handed the letter to Mr. Priski, and, pressing La Candeur’s good big paw with that gesture of condolence that one sees so often at funerals, said to him: –They say that one does not die of love, we shall see… –Ah! My God! He’s going to let himself perish!… cried La Candeur. “Above all, young man, don’t take your own life,” said M. Priski, ” religion forbids it!” And he added with great emotion: “Religion, you see, that’s all there is! ” “Are we comfortable in your convent, M. Priski?” asked Rouletabille. “Good! Now he’s going to become a monk!” cried La Candeur. “Are we comfortable?” cried M. Priski. ” That is to say, it’s paradise on earth. Imagine, in the middle of marvelous gardens, a vast building, simple, well-ventilated, with a large refectory. The cook is excellent; he even makes hare stew and macaroni with rare skill.” Finally, the superior has that cheerful expression and affable manners which attest to a tranquil mind and a healthy stomach!… “This is a good convent,” said La Candeur. “If you enter it, I will certainly enter with you! ” “And it takes so much money to be received into this monastery?” Rouletabille asked again, heaving a sigh. “Gentlemen, this monastery is rich: if it accepted all the penniless people in this country who only ask to become monks, not only would its wealth be destroyed, but its good reputation as well. I must tell you that people come to see it from the ends of the earth… It has been placed under the high protection of a saint who was dug up not far from there and whose remains have been placed the remains in cotton. On days of great ceremony, on martyrdom anniversaries, cotton sells well! I attended one of these festivals, sir; I, who until then was a pagan, am completely turned over by it. It was magnificent. Countless lamps suspended from the vault cast fires of all colors onto the nave. In one of the wings stood a begging brother who collected alms and wrote down in a register the names of people who requested a mass for a dead or sick relative! Certainly, sir, I can assure you that the house is well kept!… “So well, Mr. Priski, that you will not miss the Karakoulé?” Rouletabille expressed, more and more somber and thoughtful. “My word, no, nor Lord Kara, who was sometimes so brutal. Ah! He is well punished for his pride now, the Black Pasha! It was God who cast him down.” He should have been wary. It was predicted in the Gospels!… He, so proud, here he is, the slave of Mr. Athanase!… “What are you talking about?” said Rouletabille. “Kara-Selim, whom we call by his real Christian name, Gaulow, is no longer the master or slave of anyone. He is dead! ” “Well, then, not long ago,” said Mr. Priski, “for I saw him again no later than the day before yesterday… ” “Are you mentally ill or are you dreaming!” protested the reporter in great agitation. ” Kara-Selim is dead! Dead, before our eyes, struck with a great sword blow by Athanase!… So you couldn’t have seen him alive the day before yesterday! ” “You are certainly mistaken, sir!” insisted Mr. Priski gently. “I am so little mistaken,” said Rouletabille, “that my comrades will be able to tell you, as I am, that they saw his large, dead body dragged several times across the square before being carried off by the Bulgarians!… ” “Well, sir, it was perhaps this dragging that brought him back to life, for, I repeat, yesterday morning I met M. Athanase with his small escort, on the southern road, seeming to be heading in the direction of Lüle-Bourgas… ” “That you met Athanase is possible,” said Rouletabille, more and more oppressed… “but it is not a question of Athanase, who is alive. We are talking of Kara-Selim, who is dead. ” “I am getting there with M. Athanase. One of our horsemen, skillfully questioned by your servant, informed me that he was looking everywhere for you and Miss Vilitchkov!” I could have given him some useful information, when I noticed that the soldiers were dragging behind them, tied to the back of a horse, a large body, completely black and stained with blood, the sight of which made me let out a great cry, for I had recognized Kara-Selim!… “But he was dead!” Rouletabille cried again. “No! sir! He was alive!” Rouletabille sprang upon the monk. “Are you sure of what you say? ” “So sure, sir, that I spoke to him and he answered me!” “Ah! Be very careful what you tell us!” Rouletabille growled, shaking Priski, whom he had taken by the collar of his cloak. “On your life, don’t lie to me!… Tell me the whole truth!…” “On my life and on the one that awaits me in the other… I saw Kara-Selim alive, badly damaged, but alive!” He explained to me that he had been surprised by Athanase and struck from behind with a great sword blow that had knocked him to the ground, stunned, and that would certainly have killed him if he had not always worn a coat of mail under his black doublet!… I had no sooner heard this confidence than I fled as fast as I could, fearing that M. Athanase would have some nasty blow in store for me in my turn!… That is the whole truth, I swear to you!… M. Priski had not finished proclaiming this truth before he was gripped in Rouletabille’s arms as if in the friendliest vice! –Ah! that brave M. Priski who wants to become a monk!… and who is going to Mount Athos!… Give me back my letter, M. Priski, give me back my letter! “Here it is, sir, but you will tell me all the same where I can meet Lord Kasbeck. ” “In Salonika, my dear Mr. Priski… And do you know why I no longer entrust you with this letter to Salonika? Because it no longer needs to go there? And do you know why it no longer needs to go there? Because we are going there with you… Come on, come on, let’s go! La Candeur, Vladimir!… We are leaving… Ah! my good La Candeur, let me kiss you! Look, I am a person mentally ill with joy!… ” “But what is happening, Lord Jesus?” asked La Candeur, speechless at such a sudden and joyful transformation. “It happens, my old man, that nothing is lost yet and that it is now possible for Ivana and I to get married, since her husband is alive! ” “Ah! yes… Well, I am happy, my little one!” And Candeur turned her head to murmur: “What a misfortune! Such a beautiful intelligence!” Chapter 14. FOLLOWING THE BANKS OF THE MARITZA Our young men, accompanied by Mr. Priski, set off towards evening. That day had been devoted to almost complete rest by the troops launched in pursuit of the Turkish army. Their front stretched from Djeni-Mahalle to Karakdéré. The rapidity of their victory was already tiring them, not to mention the fact that they possessed only vague information on the situation occupied by the enemy, which the Bulgarian cavalry launched in the direction of Baba-Eski, that is to say, straight to the south, had not encountered. Rouletabille and his companions took advantage of the state of affairs which had cleared the region of all Ottoman elements to make some progress. Thanks to the letter from the major-general that the reporter always carried with him, the small band reached Demotika in a few hours. From there, there was no question of her taking the train to Dedeagatch, the banks of the lower Maritza being still occupied by Turkish forces who, rushing from Macedonia in all haste, were only passing through, eager to cross southern Thrace as quickly as possible to join, north of Rodosto, the personnel of all types of corps of the Turkish army which was reforming on the lines of Tchorlu, Lüle-Bourgas and Serai. The departure of the reporters had been so hasty that Rouletabille had not had time to ask for subsidies from his newspaper or to obtain any kind of subsidies. He had put his packet of correspondence in the post and on his way! He counted on this good Mr. Priski having a well-lined purse and would not refuse them to meet the expenses of the journey. At Demotika, they tried to procure horses honestly. Naturally, they did not find a beast to sell, which was fortunate for Mr. Priski’s purse. It was in these sad conditions that Rouletabille left Vladimir and Tondor, who were untroubled by anything, to seize what no one willingly wanted to give them. In the shadow of the ruins of an old castle, they had discovered five magnificent beasts frolicking peacefully in a deserted courtyard, while, in another courtyard, a small troop of Bulgarian vanguard, waiting for soup time, around a cauldron, listened to the plaintive melodies of the balalaika. The horses were all saddled. The matter was quickly settled. The reporters, setting their beasts off at full speed, did not stop until an hour later. They no longer had to fear the Bulgarians, but the Turks. Rouletabille began to put his papers in order. He hid the Major General’s letter in a secret pocket and took out the famous papers stolen from Kirk-Kilissé, signed by Mouktar Pasha and bearing his seal. Then, considering himself more or less in order, he allowed the horses to breathe. Following the banks of the Maritza, he chatted with Mr. Priski. Rouletabille never missed an opportunity to learn. Thus, at the moment he was trying to get closer to this Salonika inhabited by the deposed sultan, he was given details about Abdul-Hamid’s existence, and it was not simply to get a good article out of it. Mr. Priski knew a lot of things from Kasbeck, who was the only man, if one can say so, of the old party, whom the new government tolerated near Abdul-Hamid, because Kasbeck, at the same time as he had preserved for his former master feelings of unfailing devotion , maintained excellent relations with the current power. Through him, the ministers penetrated a little into Abdul-Hamid’s thoughts, and, through him also, they could, when it was necessary, which happened about every fortnight, deny the false news that was spread about the fate of the prisoner. Sometimes it was claimed that the government had him put to death, and sometimes that it was subjecting him to the worst tortures, with the intention of finally discovering the place in Yildiz-Kiosk where the ex-sultan had hidden his immense treasures. It was then that Kasbeck intervened and said: “I’ve just left Abdul-Hamid’s house; he’s in better health than I am! ” “Is he as cruel as they say, Mr. Priski?” asked Rouletabille. “Perhaps he is even more so, if we are to believe the anecdotes of Lord Kasbeck, who charmed the long evenings at the Karakoulé with the tale of his master’s fantasies. Look, a few hours before being torn from his throne, Abdul-Hamid committed an incident. He summoned one of his Circassians, one of his favorite odalisques, a child, and coldly, with shots from a revolver, he shot her dead.” A few days earlier, he had beaten to death a six-year-old girl who had innocently touched a revolver he had left on a piece of furniture. Furious, losing control of himself , and claiming that the child had wanted to kill him, he murdered her on the spot. I could tell you a hundred stories of this kind. Ah! You could say he doesn’t have an easy-going character! concluded Mr. Priski. “Well, let’s go, let’s not fall asleep!” cried Rouletabille, who was sweating profusely. And he urged the horses on again. However, he continued to keep abreast of Mr. Priski. “And now, are we going to let him go free to start such horrors again? ” “Well, sir, the harem is a very delicate question. As long as we let him have his harem, however small it may be, he can always do whatever he likes in it.” That is the law of the Prophet. Every faithful man has the right of life or death in his harem. –Squeeze your beast a little, Mr. Priski!… At this rate, we ‘ll never get to Dedeagatch!… And tell me, does he have many women with him at the moment? –My God, he has ten, which is hardly anything. –And how does he behave in Salonika? –Well, apart from a few fits of anger like the ones I mentioned to you just now, he behaves very properly. He is closely watched at the Villa Allatini, but he is looked after like a hen in pastry. He is perhaps, at the present time, the happiest man in the Ottoman Empire. Here is more or less what Lord Kasbeck told us: Forgetful, carefree, he strolls in his vast gardens, smoking with delight fine tobacco cigarettes, specially made for him. He meticulously establishes the day’s menu with his cook and slowly savors multiple cups of exquisite, fragrant coffee. No other concern haunts him, except for his gallant conversations with the ladies of the house. Everything that happens outside the walls of the villa remains foreign to Abdul-Hamid. He deliberately remains ignorant of outside rumors. If, moreover, he takes it into his head to question those who approach him about political events, he receives only vague and imprecise answers . Orders are given to remain silent. “I have heard,” said Rouletabille, “that he still hopes to return to the throne and that he is kept in this hope by many his friends who are stirring up trouble in Constantinople, and preparing in the shadows, taking advantage of current events, a revolution? “This, sir,” replied Mr. Priski, “is politics, and politics has nothing to do with a poor monk like me! ” “Don’t say that you are a monk, in this region which is dangerous for the Orthodox, Mr. Priski. It is not enough to have taken off your robe, you must also watch your words !… Look, here is a Turkish patrol which we are certainly not going to escape. ” A few bullets came at that moment to greet the reporters, who immediately waved their handkerchiefs, shouting at the top of their lungs: “Francis! Francis! ” Soon they were surrounded and explained to the head of the patrol that they were French reporters attached to the staff of Mouktar Pasha and that they had been forced to flee after the rout at Kirk-Kilissé. As they showed papers corroborating their statements, they were treated fairly well and sent back to a kachef, who sent them back to a kaimakan, who sent them back to… Dedeagatch!… Thus escorted by the Turks, they had quickly arrived at the place they wanted to reach. This little port of Dedeagatch had seen more troops pass through for two days than it had seen in forty years. This was because Turkey had decided to await the enemy on the banks of Karaagutch and inflict a defeat on it that would avenge the surprise of Kirk-Kilissé. Also, if all the troops available in Constantinople were sent to this line, southern Macedonia, for its part, sent the coastal divisions via Dedeagatch. They had to hurry if they didn’t want to be cut off from Constantinople, because rumor had it that enemy cavalry had been seen in the vicinity of Rodosto. Moreover, Dedeagatch could no longer rely on his sea communications, as the Greek fleet was already policing the Aegean Sea. As soon as they arrived at Dedeagatch, the three reporters, Mr. Priski, and Tondor, split up to look for Kasbeck and Ivana as quickly as possible, but they soon became certain that they had left the Hotel de la Mer-Égée the day before, with a retinue composed of a few Albanian horsemen, and that they had taken the road to Salonika through the countryside. The railway had not yet been cut, but it was about to be, and in the meantime, it was only used for troop movements. Kasbeck had not been able to take it and Rouletabille conceived some hope, but he soon had to realize how impossible it would be for him not only to take the railway, but also to follow Kasbeck’s route. Not to mention that Kasbeck was more than thirty-six hours ahead of him, French reporters would inevitably be arrested at every moment and held back by all the Ottoman detachments they encountered on their way. Did they not already see the harassment with which their freedom, alas too relative, was encumbered? Meanwhile, Kasbeck calmly continued his march with Ivana toward the harem of the Villa Allatini! On the quays of the port, where it was impossible for him to find the slightest small boat that would agree to attempt the adventure of the voyage to Salonika, Rouletabille was gnawing his fists. Suddenly, he turned to La Candeur: –Quick, horses!… –Where are we going?… –To Constantinople!… –To Constantinople? But we’re turning our backs on Salonika! And Ivana?… –My old man, explained Rouletabille quickly, dragging La Candeur along, since we can’t go to meet Ivana, Ivana will come to meet us! –To Constantinople? –To Constantinople! –But you’re losing your mind!… –No! Listen to me carefully and grasp… Ivana follows Kasbeck; Kasbeck runs after Abdul-Hamid. I’m having Abdul-Hamid come to Constantinople where soon We see Kasbeck and Ivana arriving!… What do you say to that?… –Amazing!… But how are you going to get Abdul-Hamid to come to Constantinople?… –Hey! There is a sure way; get him on a foreign ship, English or German, which will have nothing to fear from the Greek cruisers. –My dear fellow, allow me to tell you that it is not in the interest of the current government to bring to the capital a sultan who has retained many supporters there! –It is even less in his interest to leave him in Salonika where he can be proclaimed again without the central government having the power to oppose it!… –If the government feared something of this kind, continued the stubborn La Candeur, it would not wait for Rouletabille to bring the dethroned sultan back to the Bosphorus… As for me, they will not move him from Salonika as long as they remain masters of the southern line… That is my opinion… –That is mine too!… That is why we must run to Constantinople and persuade the government that it is wrong to leave the sultan there; that the next battles on the Lüle-Bourgas line may turn out badly and that it is in the interest of Mahomet V to have Abdul-Hamid immediately at hand , in the event that his partisans should become threatening! “They will listen to you or they will not listen to you,” uttered La Candeur, whose simplicity refused to enter into the complexity of Rouletabille’s plan. “They will listen to me! ” “Well! Why is that?…” “They will listen to me when I tell them that there is a conspiracy to put Abdul-Hamid back on the throne! ” “It’s not enough to say that! It must be proven! ” “I will prove it!” “By what means?” “By giving the names of the conspirators, the conspirators who have resolved to proclaim Abdul-Hamid in Salonika itself! Then you will see if the government does not bring its Abdul-Hamid back to Constantinople, and without losing a day, without losing an hour, a minute! Right away, perhaps even before Kasbeck arrives in Salonika! Do you understand me now?” Only, you see, on our side, we mustn’t waste a second!… “Rouletabille, you won’t do that!… You won’t denounce these poor people! ” “Ah! Here are Vladimir and Tondor,” said Rouletabille… “Tondor, where is Mr. Priski? ” “He’s at the square,” said Vladimir, “and is distributing gold coins to get a pass for Salonika! They take the coins from him, but they refuse him the pass. ” “The horses?” “In the courtyard of the Hôtel de la Mer-Égée. ” “Mr. Priski’s too? ” “All five of them!” “Bring them right away!” “You, Vladimir, run to the square and have our papers stamped by Ali Bey and tell him that, as he wishes, we are returning to Constantinople! ” “Understood,” replied Vladimir, “and shall I warn Mr. Priski at the same time? ” “Not at all!” Let Mr. Priski go to Salonika, we don’t need him in Constantinople! “Well! And his horse? ” “Ah! His horse, for example, we’ll take him! In these times it’s better to have five than four… I’ll entrust him to Tondor… Run, Vladimir, in a quarter of an hour we must have left Dédéagatch!” Vladimir ran instead, Tondor went to get the horses, Rouletabille turned to La Candeur who was grumbling, his head down and a sly air. “You, go to the telegraph,” he said to him, “and send a dispatch to Paris saying that we’re leaving for Constantinople… what’s the matter with you?… You look like a face! ” “Listen, Rouletabille, this is a joke, eh? You’re not going to commit such an infamy!” First of all, it is not true that you know the names of these conspirators… –Yes, my boy, and their addresses! –Who gave them to you? –Gaulow himself, who is involved in the matter and who took the care to write down the said names and addresses very neatly on a small notepad. pocket notebook that he had the misfortune to lose in Sofia, the night he came to assassinate that poor General Vilitchkov!… Well! Do you know now?… Do you still think it’s a joke?… –Rouletabille, if you give these addresses, we’ll go to the conspirators’ homes! –Perfectly! and we’ll certainly find proof of their conspiracy at their place!… –But the unfortunates will be hanged!… –What do you want me to do, provided Ivana is saved!… Candeur raised her formidable arms to the sky and cried: –Obviously! obviously! obviously!… –Say, Candeur, would you prefer that Ivana be lost and that I become a monk like Mr. Priski?… No, is that right?… Well then! put a stop to your salaams and run to the telegraph! Candeur left without further displaying her humanitarian sentiments and once again groaning quietly about how unfortunate it was for a young man to encounter an Ivana Vilitchkov on his way. Half an hour later, the three reporters and Tondor were on the road to Constantinople… They were speeding along at full speed. Tondor, behind, was driving a spare horse. Near Rodosto, they came across a Bulgarian cavalry reconnaissance party, which they tried in vain to avoid. They had to make the best of a bad situation and allow themselves to be taken to the vanguard post at Haijarboli, where Rouletabille found an officer to examine his papers, the Bulgarian papers, naturally, and the letter from General Stanislawoff, which he had immediately taken out. Chapter 15. 36, RED, EVEN AND PASS! They had arrived at Haijarboli at nightfall. The small village was occupied by an advance party, whose leader was staying in the mayor’s house, who was on the run. The reporters were very well received because of the major-general’s letter, and a room was made available to them; finally, they were given much-needed food. Rouletabille didn’t complain too much about this setback. The animals would rest for a few hours, and La Candeur and Vladimir would stop groaning about their hunger. La Candeur took it upon himself to make a superfine soup with the regiment’s food, Vladimir helped him while Tondor looked after the horses. Meanwhile, Rouletabille examined the area, as always. That same night they had to abandon the Bulgarian outposts without warning and re-enter the Turkish zone. Despite the duplicate papers they carried, this small operation was never without danger. And it was fitting to take precautions… Rouletabille therefore left the room on the ground floor and opened onto a large communal courtyard where the troops were finishing supper around the fires. Then he left this courtyard to visit Tondor who, on his instructions, had not brought the animals into the courtyard, but had tied them to a tree behind the house. There were deserted fields there and a deep ravine through which it would be easy to slip after making a quick inquiries into the layout of the outposts. Rouletabille walked for an hour in this near solitude and returned feeling very reassured about his plan for the night. As he walked along the walls of the mayor’s house, he found himself facing two officers who pronounced a name that made him shudder. They were talking about Athanase Khetew! Rouletabille stepped forward. “Athanase Khetew?” he asked, just in case, in French. Are you talking, gentlemen, about Athanase Khetew? “Eh, sir, yes,” replied one of the officers, “we are talking about you, for it must be you he is looking for. ” “Certainly!” cried Rouletabille. “Ah! good; he will be happy to meet you. He has been asking for you for quite a long time … We did not think, however, although he had spoken to us of French reporters, that it was you, for he had said that you had with you a young girl, the niece of General Vilitchkov, who was assassinated a few days before the declaration of battle. “It is indeed us we are talking about, gentlemen,” said Rouletabille. “And if this young girl is not here, it is because she left us recently. ” “Athanase Khetew was told that she had fought in the front rank at Demir-Kapou. ” “That is true.” –And that since then, pursuing the enemy with the vanguard of the army, she had never ceased to be at the outposts… Also, Athanase Khetew is looking for Miss Vilitchkov all over our front… Anyway, you can always give him news of her… He will be very happy when he returns…
–So he must be coming back here?… –But in the early hours of the morning, I think… He left us to go to Baba-Eski and return… –And you are sure that he will return? –Oh! Absolutely sure, sir; he left his prisoner with us. –Huh? said Rouletabille, hiding as much as possible the sudden emotion that had seized him… What prisoner?… –Oh! a prisoner whom he seems to care a lot for and for whom he takes the greatest care… and whom his two orderlies never leave for a moment. Besides, it’s easy for you to see… Thereupon, the officer led Rouletabille, still at the back of the house, to a small window fitted with a double cross-bar. “Look,” he said. Rouletabille stood on tiptoe and looked. That was it! Rouletabille bit his fists to keep from shouting with joy. In a corner, bound hand and foot, he had recognized the black pasha Gaulow, over whom two sentries were still watching. This room, in which Gaulow and the two sentries were, was a sort of closet opening directly onto the courtyard through a half-open door, on the threshold of which half a dozen soldiers, squatting, were playing knucklebones, a game very popular in the Balkans. Rouletabille left his observation post and said: “Ah! I know him, he’s the famous Gaulow, the former master of the Karakoulé!” I think Athanase Khetew must be keen on it!… –He told us it was the first time he had left it, but an order from General Savof, commanding the first cavalry brigade, required him to go straight to Baba-Eski. –Gentlemen, thank you for all this excellent information, said Rouletabille, bowing, I ask your permission to go to supper. –Bon appétit, sir. He returned to the courtyard; there, he noted, with great satisfaction, that the room, on the threshold of which the soldiers were playing knucklebones, and consequently in which the prisoner was, was adjacent to the one that had been abandoned to the reporters. Just as he was about to push open the door of the latter, he distinctly heard these words, spoken by Vladimir’s metallic voice: 36, red, even and pass! –Well, well, he said, one would think oneself, I swear, in Monte Carlo. And he entered the room. There he found supper ready and waiting for him: a large bowl of steaming soup, the smell of which immediately caressed his nostrils pleasantly, and, a few steps away, near the table, La Candeur and Vladimir, who had stood up rather abruptly upon his arrival. “Well, shall we have supper?” Rouletabille asked them. “I’m starting to get hungry too. What are you doing here?” La Candeur had just quickly turned over a large map on the table, and Vladimir was looking at the time on his watch. “That old joke again!” [See the incidents at the Black Castle.] Rouletabille laughed, who certainly seemed to be in the best mood in the world this evening. “That map again! That watch again!… Oh, but it’s still the map of the Istrandja-Dagh! You’re not going to pretend, all the same, that you’re studying the plan of operations on a map of Istrandja-Dagh when we are a few kilometers from Tchorlou!… –Rouletabille, uttered La Candeur who seemed the most embarrassed, we realized the distance traveled… –Do you see that!… And Rouletabille, in a jiffy, lifted the map and turned it upside down … But at the same time he discovered on the table a whole pile of gold and silver coins. He was as if dazzled, while the two friends, dismayed, did not know what to do. –Well, my little fathers!… said Rouletabille. And he examined the back of the map which was divided into a quantity of small frames each bearing a number, from number 0 to number 36… –So what? You play roulette? –You must! Since you always confiscate our decks of cards, sighed La Candeur. –Pass me the watch, Vladimir! Vladimir, who had hurriedly put the watch back in his pocket, had to take it out… and Rouletabille then noticed that this watch, instead of marking the time, had a hand that turned on a dial marked with 36 numbers and 0 and which stopped on one of these depending on how long you pressed the release system. This hand moved so madly quickly that it was impossible to know in advance on which number it would stop. “I understand now your excessive love of geography,” said Rouletabille, “a love that intrigued me so much at Karakoulé and also the morbid need you had to always know the time!… Have you had this watch for a long time?” he asked, putting it in his pocket. “Sir, it is a watch,” replied Vladimir, “that I hold dear, for it was given to me a few years ago by someone dear to me. ” “By the princess?” –Exactly, by the princess… It was her first present… I was leaving for Tomsk, where I was going to wait with some colleagues from the Moscow press for the automobiles that had undertaken the journey from Peking to Paris; this good princess feared that I would be bored during the journey and gave me this roulette watch as a present to amuse me on the way. I must say, moreover, that this watch has always brought me luck. And it was always precisely when I needed money. Thus during this trip, returning by car from Tomsk to Paris, it gave me one of the first great joys of my life. Each time a tire punctured, I invited my companions to follow me on the embankment of the road while the driver repaired the damage, and there, on the back of a card divided in pencil into small squares, as we have done with this one, and my roulette watch in hand, we would organize a little game. There were tires that brought me a hundred francs, others two hundred, others that almost broke me, because sometimes you had to lose. But finally, having arrived in Paris, from tire to tire, I had managed to earn enough to buy myself a car. –My compliments. –You will understand, sir, that this watch, to which such precious memories are attached… –Yes, you care a lot about it… And this money? All this money? There are at least a thousand francs there, said Rouletabille, sliding all the coins into his pockets… Where did it come from?… I thought you were penniless. –Sir, said Vladimir, who turned pale at Rouletabille’s snatching gesture , it’s Mr. Priski’s thousand francs. –But you told me you refused him! “Pardon me,” interrupted La Candeur, “I told you that… But Vladimir accepted them. ” “I accepted them,” Vladimir immediately corrected, “but then I refused to do the errand. ” “Yes, you are an honest fellow. I have already noticed that several times,” replied Rouletabille… “Well, my children, now let’s have supper!” “Sir,” said Vladimir, who had suddenly fallen into the most gloomy sadness, “sir, if I value my watch, I also value this money which I had not yet lost. ” “Before losing it,” said Rouletabille, serving him his soup, “you should have earned it. This money is no more yours than it is mine. It is Mr. Priski’s, since you refused to do his errand. ” “That is all to Vladimir’s credit,” La Candeur appreciated. “You are not going to give this money back to Mr. Priski, perhaps? ” “No, no, don’t worry… I have its use all found. ” “What are you going to do with it? ” “I will tell you that later, at dessert.” Supper was rather sad, although Rouletabille was in a good mood, but he could not cheer up the two partners. “Listen!” Rouletabille finally said, “I am going to give you this money back!” “Ah! ah!” burst the other two. “Only, you’re going to do exactly what I’m going to tell you… “Count on us… ” “You’re going to gamble this money… ” “Long live Rouletabille!… ” “And lose it… ” “Oh! oh!… is it absolutely necessary to lose it?” they said , scowling. “Absolutely necessary… ” “And against whom are we going to lose it?” “In a moment, you’re going to clear the table and push it onto the threshold of the door,” explained Rouletabille. “On this table you’ll set up your roulette wheel, saying aloud that it’s stifling in this room and that you feel the need to get some fresh air… whereupon you ‘ll start playing among yourselves first… Throw all your gold, all your silver on the table!… There are soldiers nearby playing knucklebones ; they’ll come and see you play roulette; they’ll immediately join in the game; you’ll let them win! ” “All our money?” “All your money! If you won theirs, they wouldn’t let you go, whereas when they’ve emptied you, they won’t bother about you anymore, they’ll fight over your stake, and we’ll make off! ” “Understood!” said La Candeur, who didn’t care too much for this money he hadn’t yet won from Vladimir. “Yes, understood… but it’s expensive!” Vladimir observed melancholically. “It’s not too expensive if you think of what we’ll be doing while they ‘re playing,” said Rouletabille, “for it’s not only a question of saving ourselves, but also of freeing a poor prisoner who is in the next room. ” “Ah! ah!” said La Candeur. “Oh! then, if it’s a question of humanity!” Vladimir expressed philosophically. “And who is this prisoner?” asked La Candeur. “That prisoner is simply Gaulow, gentlemen!” “Gaulow!” they cried, “the abominable Gaulow!” “Himself!” “Athanase’s prisoner!” exclaimed Vladimir! “Ivana’s husband!” growled La Candeur. “General Vilitchkov’s executioner!” Vladimir added. “And it’s this wretch,” continued La Candeur, “this bandit who almost took from you the one you love, after having murdered the father and mother and sold your Ivana’s little sister, it’s this man you want to save!” “By sacrificing my thousand francs!” moaned Vladimir. “He’s handsome, your poor prisoner,” concluded La Candeur. And then there was a silence and then Rouletabille said, getting up: “Very well, I’ll free him myself.” And he made as if to leave, after picking up a knife from the table. “Come on! Come on!” exclaimed La Candeur, blocking his path. “Do n’t be so stubborn… You know we’ll do whatever you want! ” “Peuh!” muttered Vladimir, “he’s good!… You can see it’s not with his own money! ” “What are you saying, Vladimir? ” “I’m saying, Rouletabille, that it’s hard to give up a thousand beautiful levas to people who won’t know how to enjoy them, but you shouldn’t hesitate to do so.” do as long as you ask, for you must have some good reasons for it… “Certainly!” agreed the reporter, “it is quite simply a question of the happiness of my life. ” “As long as the husband must be freed so that you may be happy in your marriage, let us free him!” said La Candeur, “but by the devil if I understand anything about it ! “You will understand later, La Candeur, take this knife and follow me.” They both went out and went to the back of the house. There, Rouletabille showed the little window to La Candeur and said to him in turn: “Look!” When La Candeur had finished looking, he said to him: “What did you see?…” “Although it is not very light in this shop,” replied the other, ” I saw, by the light of the fires in the courtyard, Mr. Gaulow, without a doubt .” “Is he still leaning against the wall? ” “Yes, right near the little window; if I stretched out my arm through the bars, I could plunge this knife into his heart and it would never happen again. ” “Take care, you wretch!” said Rouletabille, very moved… “Swear to me that you won’t touch a hair on his head! ” “So he’s your friend now, the brigand? ” “Swear to me that? ” “Well, that’s understood, what must we do? ” “You’ll see how simple it is! You start playing with Vladimir, the others come and play… I’ll join in. So you leave and come here. While we’re talking the talk on the other side, you take advantage of the guards’ inattention to attract the prisoner’s attention; You will show him the knife and you will tell him or make him understand that you wish to cut his bonds, at first he will be astonished and then he will lend himself to the operation by raising his arms; once his arms are freed he will cut the bonds on his legs himself and he will escape through the small window. “There are the bars!” said La Candeur. “If there were no bars, I would not need you!… You are the man to unseal them for me at a stroke!” La Candeur took a bar in his enormous fist and began to twist it , pulling it towards him. “I feel that he is coming,” he said. “Well, I will leave you!… Everything must be ready in a quarter of an hour. At that moment, I will shout at the top of my lungs, and you will hear me perfectly from here: Thirty-six, red, even and pass!” This will mean that the guards are very busy playing or watching play and that you can go there in complete confidence. You finish breaking the bar, you help the man out of there and you lead him under the tree where a horse will be waiting for him that I will have Tondor saddle immediately. We have one too many; you see how it falls!… –And after? –Well, after, when the man has left at full speed, you will come and join us quietly in the courtyard, you will start playing and the rest looks at me… Is that agreed?… –Is that agreed!… But what the devil… — Thirty-six, red, even and pass! Remember. –Yes! Yes!… Rouletabille then went to speak to Tondor, who immediately began not only to saddle Mr. Priski’s horse, but also the others, then the reporter returned to La Candeur, who, in silence, and with a sustained effort, had almost unsealed the bars, without anyone inside the shack, not even the prisoner, noticing. Rouletabille, after congratulating La Candeur, went back into the courtyard with him. Vladimir had already taken out the table, spread out his card, and taken out his roulette watch, when Rouletabille and La Candeur appeared. From the moment he saw them, he proposed a game. Rouletabille cried out joyfully and immediately threw all the money on the table, proclaiming that he was going to hold the bank. The soldiers immediately ran up and the two guards who had until then remained inside the shack appeared on the threshold. The game began. After five minutes, the non-commissioned officers, seeing that the bank was still losing and that Vladimir only had to put a coin on a number for it to be covered in gold by Rouletabille, who announced the numbers he wanted, risked a few levas and won. As was agreed, La Candeur then slipped away. The officer arrived, who was happy in turn. There was a jostling around the table; the two guards were now completely out of the closet. They had climbed onto a stone and were paying attention only to the game. A quarter of an hour passed like this, then Rouletabille suddenly cried out: “Thirty-six, red, even, and pass!” There were shouts, exclamations, quite an uproar, for Vladimir, at a glance from Rouletabille, had charged the thirty-six. The bank had exploded! The officer and the non-commissioned officers applauded. Vladimir and the soldiers joined in. Rouletabille then ordered Vladimir to take the bank in turn, which he did without hiding his lack of enthusiasm. Rouletabille had kept the roulette wheel in his hand and was announcing the numbers himself, so that now all of Vladimir’s gold went into the pockets of the officer and the non-commissioned officer, with repeated applause from the soldiers, who were delighted by the proclamation of each number, repeated in Bulgarian by the officer. At this moment, La Candeur reappeared. He jerked his head and Rouletabille understood that it was all over. The reporter heaved a sigh and trembled with joy. With one last throw, he made Vladimir lose everything, who settled the game in a rather glum manner. “Decidedly, it’s not a good deal to hold the bank!” the officer said cheerfully. “Uh!” “That depends,” said La Candeur, nodding his head. ” Sometimes one blow is enough for the bank to sweep up everything on the table. ” “Well, then, hold the bank in your turn!” But at that moment, Tondor was seen running up, shouting furiously: “Sir, sir, someone has stolen a horse from us! ” “They have stolen a horse from us!” repeated Rouletabille, immediately showing the most spiteful humor. “It’s not enough for them to win all our money; they have to steal another horse! ” “We must see this,” said the officer. “What, if we must see this! I think we must see this!” cried Vladimir. ” We have horses that have cost us dearly!” And everyone began to run after Tondor, who was leaving the courtyard, giving explanations. He arrived under his tree and narrated, with many gestures intended to express his indignation, that someone had taken advantage of his sleep to steal one of the five horses in his care. “Well, gentlemen, this boy is right,” said Rouletabille, “you saw us arrive with five horses, and now there are only four left. I will complain to the major-general… ” “Sir,” said the officer, “calm down. I will have an investigation carried out and I swear to you that we will find your horse!” At this moment, the guards could be heard shouting at the small window. “The prisoner! The prisoner!” they shouted in Bulgarian. The officer rushed over: “What? The prisoner?” The others pointed to the unsealed bars and explained as best they could that, taking advantage of the fact that their backs were turned, the prisoner had escaped… The officer immediately ran to Rouletabille. “Sir, do you know who took your horse? It’s Athanase Khetew’s prisoner who has just escaped and who jumped on the first beast he met… ” “The wretch!” cried Rouletabille. “And in which direction did he go?” “Oh! Without a doubt, in the direction of Constantinople. You will understand that he has had enough of the Bulgarians! But what am I going to say to Athanase Khetew when he comes back presently? Especially since I am forbidden to do so.” by my order to move from here… The prisoner can run! “Sir,” cried Rouletabille, “don’t complain. We’ll catch up with our horse and bring your prisoner back to you. Saddle up! Gentlemen, saddle up!… Chapter 16. RIDE IN THE NIGHT He jumped on his horse himself and set off at full speed, followed by Vladimir and Tondor. When he realized that he wasn’t followed by La Candeur, they had already covered two kilometers! pursuing Gaulow with incredible speed, so much so that Vladimir couldn’t help crying out: “But do we really want to reach him? ” “Do I want to reach him?” exclaimed Rouletabille. “I think I want to reach him!… Only, we’ll have to wait five minutes for La Candeur! What can that animal be doing!” They stopped, but Rouletabille seemed to be stewing in his saddle, he was moving so much and showing impatience. Finally, a gallop was heard, and above the plain, magnificently lit by one of those prodigious Oriental nights that poets sing about, the large silhouette of a rider appeared, making the earth tremble as he passed. It was La Candeur, who expressed noisy joy at finding his friends again and wanted to explain the cause of his delay, but Rouletabille did n’t give him time. “On the road! On the road!” And he set off again like the wind. “Oh, why are we running like this?” La Candeur asked Vladimir. “It seems he wants to catch Gaulow. ” “Huh? Are you crazy? ” “He is! He did everything to save him, and now that he’s gone, he wants to take him back! But why bother?” “Do I know, go ask him!” Rouletabille had just stopped abruptly at the corner of two roads. Which one should he take? Certainly! Gaulow must have left traces of his passage, traces that Rouletabille, even at that hour of the night, would have been perfectly capable of unraveling, but he would have had to dismount, subject himself to a serious study of the terrain, in short, lose precious time , and, meanwhile, the other was slipping away, increasing his lead. Rouletabille called La Candeur: “You’ve already made us lose time; as far as you’re concerned, try to catch up with him. You’ll take the left road with Tondor, I’ll take the right road with Vladimir. ” “Where will we meet again? ” “In front of Tchorlou, which we’re obliged to take.” Meet near the railway line… Try to avoid the people from all types of Turkish forces who are to the north on the Sarai side, one of the officers told me… Besides, the whole southern part seems well cleared to me. “So, it’s true that we’re running after Gaulow?” said La Candeur. “You think so!… We must catch him at all costs!… ” “And if I catch him; what do I do? ” “Well, you kill him! Ah!” merciless, eh?… I swear to you that if, for my part, I meet him, I will not miss him!… He is unarmed… he will not even be able to defend himself… And above all, no foolish modesty!… no generosity!… Kill him like the assassin he is… Crush him like a poisonous beast which, alive, will always be feared… –But finally, I am dreaming, cried La Candeur, or you move! Yesterday you were reborn to life when you learned that Gaulow was not dead. You told me that you could only marry Ivana while her husband was still alive. Just now you made me swear not to touch a hair on his head, and now you want me to kill him!… –Yes, if you love me, do that for me… Completely stunned, La Candeur continued: –You run after him and you lend him a horse to save himself!… But Rouletabille was no longer listening to him. He had signaled to Vladimir and they were already speeding along one of the roads that go from Haïjarboli to Tchorlou… In front of Tchorlou, they had to stop; they had not seen Gaulow; they had arrived near the abandoned railway line at a point which was the end of three roads and they were going to run into the Turkish outposts whose Who lives! they heard in the night which was beginning to be populated by a thousand shadows… On the side of Saraï, a searchlight searched the darkness… It was there, between Bunarhissar, Lüle-Bourgas, Saraï and Tchorlou, in this vast silent quadrilateral, that the formidable clash was being prepared where, in a four-day battle, the fate of European Turkey would be decided… Rouletabille and Vladimir had dismounted and hidden behind a hedge from which they could watch the road. “If La Candeur didn’t meet him,” said Rouletabille, “Gaulow has escaped once more!… All the same, he can boast of being lucky ! ” “Sure!” said Vladimir, “he must be as amazed as I am to see himself delivered by us. ” “Listen, Vladimir, there are things I can’t explain to you, but at least you must understand one thing: it is absolutely necessary that you keep silent about the manner in which Gaulow escaped . I can count on you, can’t I? ” “Oh! absolutely! First of all, it’s not an event I would take pleasure in boasting about or one I can keep a very pleasant memory of,” added Vladimir, who was still thinking of his thousand francs. Rouletabille pretended not to have heard or understood, and said: “I would like La Candeur to arrive; we could take advantage of the rest of the night to head south and avoid all the soldiery.” We would arrive tomorrow in Constantinople, going back up by Tchataldja. “What are we going to do in Constantinople? ” “Get my mail,” Rouletabille replied vaguely, “and then we will come back to witness the battle. ” “Listen,” said Vladimir, “I hear a gallop! ” “Two gallops!” Rouletabille corrected. “It’s them! Two minutes later, in fact, La Candeur and Tondor arrived. Rouletabille and Vladimir were back in the saddle. “Nothing?” Rouletabille asked from afar. “Yes! We saw him!” replied La Candeur, who seemed very out of breath. “Well? ” “Well, I’ll tell you about it later. What happened is dreadful!… ” “You didn’t kill him? ” “No!… But I killed another one!… “Who?… “Athanase Khetew!… “You killed Athanase!” cried Rouletabille, jumping up in his saddle. “Well, yes, I killed Athanase! It’s awful, isn’t it?… ” “But how did you do such a thing?” “Listen, I’ll tell you later,” said La Candeur, panting. “As long as we ‘re not with the Turks, I won’t be at peace!… You understand, I killed a Bulgarian officer!… Let’s go!… ” “Yes, let’s go!” repeated Rouletabille. “Oh! that, for example, is dreadful!… ” “It’s especially extraordinary!” said La Candeur. And they set off again, killing their horses. They only caught a breath much later, when they saw the heights of Tchataldja in the distance. Then Rouletabille turned towards La Candeur. –Now, tell me what happened!… You met Athanase and you took him for Gaulow!… –Oh! no! no!… It’s much more extraordinary than that!… and I
‘ll admit that if this continues, I’ll become mentally ill, too!… –But come on!… –We were speeding along the road, Tondor and I… and we were just saying to each other that Gaulow would certainly be met either by you or by us, because Tondor had taken care to give him the worst horse; when suddenly we saw on the road, at the mouth of a ravine, Gaulow himself!… –Ah!… –We were gaining on him!… He turned around every moment and this It was only a matter of a few minutes… when, behind us, we heard a gallop… We turned around in our turn and the night was so clear that we recognized Athanase… Athanase who was arriving like lightning… He certainly came from Haïjarboli where he had been informed of the escape of his prisoner and, like us, he was running after him… I then shouted to him to reassure him: “We have him! We have him!” And I sting again with both… But Gaulow, by a supreme effort, had regained a little. I remembered then that you had told me to kill him like a dog or a viper rather than let him escape. I took out my revolver, shouting to Athanase: “Don’t be afraid!… He won’t escape us again!” And I began to fire at Gaulow. But at the same moment Athanase arrived and instead of throwing himself on Gaulow, as I expected, fell on me with great blows of his saber! Luckily my horse swerved, for I was, by Jove, well and truly cut in two!… Wasn’t that right, Tondor? “Oh! I thought that was it,” said Tondor. “So? ” “Well, then, it happened very quickly, you know… I didn’t want to be cut in two, myself… especially since I found it completely unfair…
Here’s a man to whom I’m doing the service of running after his prisoner and he’s giving me a saber blow… I answered him with my revolver, and it was immediately obvious that if I had missed Gaulow, I hadn’t missed Athanase. Ah! he toppled over at once and fell flat on the road; it went flop!…” “Flop!” repeated Tondor. “Whereupon we went down, Tondor and I, for there was no longer any question of catching Gaulow, who had disappeared across the fields… And we bent over Athanase to find out what was going on. Well , he was dead!… “Dead!” repeated Tondor. “My old man, I’m still all blue about it! ” “Are you sure he’s dead?” asked Rouletabille thoughtfully. “Yes, I am! I listened to his heart, it was no longer beating. He ‘s definitely dead; but it was his own fault… You’re not too angry with me, are you?” “Listen,” replied Rouletabille, “all this is dreadful… And I would have preferred that you had killed Gaulow… ” “My old man, I did what I could… ” “No doubt,” continued Rouletabille, who seemed at heart much more worried than pained; but you mustn’t boast about it… –My God, I’ll keep quiet if it will please you; but as far as I’m concerned, I’d have no shame in saying that I killed with a revolver shot a gentleman who wanted to kill me with a saber blow… There’s another strange Ostrogoth!… Vladimir, who hadn’t said anything yet, expressed his opinion: –That man only got what he deserved. After this last word, there was no more talk of Athanase. Chapter 17. FINANCIAL QUESTIONS. While Rouletabille remained silent, Vladimir began a grand eulogy of Constantinople, which he knew inside out and whose enchanting appearance he praised. –Is there a good brasserie? asked La Candeur. –Oh! excellent!… In Constantinople, you can find everything you want!… –I don’t ask for that much, replied La Candeur; If I could only have a good steak with apples and a good half!… “But we still have to have the means to pay for it!” said Rouletabille, who suddenly remembered, as they were entering the town, that they were penniless . “Ah! It’s not money that’s lacking!” said La Candeur with a rather casual air. “All the same,” said Rouletabille, “while we wait for the newspaper to send us some, I don’t know how we’re going to manage, because we need them right away, for the dispatches!…” “Don’t worry about that!” continued La Candeur. “I have two thousand francs. ” “You have two thousand francs?…” “I understand…” cried Vladimir joyfully. “You will have found them in Athanase’s pockets. “Oh!” Rouletabille said, stopping his horse, “it’s not possible!…” “That young Slav disgusts me!” La Candeur said, turning away from Vladimir. “But what are those two thousand francs?” Rouletabille asked. “Well, they’re Mr. Priski’s two thousand francs. ” “Mr. Priski’s two thousand francs! What are you still telling me ? ” “The exact truth… You know perfectly well that Mr. Priski, at Kirk-Kilissé, gave Vladimir a thousand francs, which I didn’t want to touch?” “Yes, but Vladimir lost those thousand francs at Haïjarboli!” “Wait. You also remember that at Stara-Zagora, Mr. Priski wanted to give me the other thousand francs he still owed us?” “Perfectly, but you honestly refused him.” –Certainly!… And Mr. Priski did not insist, but when I saw him again the next day, I said to him: –Mr. Priski, I refused you the thousand francs because it was always understood that I would not touch them!… But Vladimir is counting on it! Slip them into an envelope and I will give these thousand francs myself to Vladimir. Mr. Priski, who is an honest man and who did not want to break his word on the eve of entering the convent, replied to me: –A promise is a promise: here they are! I put the envelope in my pocket, telling myself that at the first opportunity, I would give this money to Vladimir; but I was in no hurry to do so, knowing that Vladimir already had a thousand francs and knowing him to be a great spender! Now, this evening, as Vladimir had lost a thousand francs gambling with all those Bulgarians and he seemed quite distressed, I took the envelope out of my pocket to give it to him. Only, at that moment, Tondor arrived and the uproar you know about ensued!… Vladimir followed him out of the courtyard… Three-quarters of the players dispersed just as the officer had just shouted to me: “Take the bank, you!”… This challenge came at a moment when I was making sad reflections on the necessity of leaving the Bulgarians money that would have been so well in our pocket. I could not resist the desire to win it all back: and that is what happened… The officer returned after you had left, and the game resumed. And, with Vladimir’s thousand francs, I won back the thousand francs we had lost! “Hurrah!” cried Vladimir. “So that explains your delay, La Candeur,” said Rouletabille, who was himself delighted. –Exactly!…
–You didn’t take long to win back that money!… –The Bulgarians were excited about the squares of the 22!… Now, with this watch, I know very well how to avoid bringing out the squares of the 22… –The two cocottes! said Vladimir. –It’s the first time these ladies have brought me luck, replied La Candeur. Chapter 18. AT CONSTANTINOPLE. That evening, at tea time, all that was talked about was the terrible defeat of the Turks at Lüle-Bourgas, in the salons of the French embassy, where, with their customary good grace, the ambassador and the ambassador welcomed a few representatives of the French press. An intimate gathering where the latest news of the day was exchanged. In one corner, people were paying close attention to Rouletabille, who had arrived in Constantinople unannounced a few days earlier, and who had found a way to get out to witness the gigantic duel. He had returned in the midst of an unspeakable debacle. He recounted how, during the four days of battle, Abdullah Pasha, who commanded the Turkish army, had remained locked in a small house in Sakiskeuï, where he had established his headquarters. It was there that, during a chance hike, Rouletabille had found him. The general was literally dying of hunger and his orderly officers were scratching the earth from a garden with their nails, in order to extract corn roots that were diluted and boiled in a little flour. That’s all the commander-in-chief of an army of 175,000 men had to eat! Rouletabille had given Abdullah Pasha some cans of preserves that he had taken with him, and for three days, it was he, the reporter, who had fed the commander-in-chief. “Yes, but you were at the first post to hear the news!” the first secretary pointed out to him. “Don’t believe that,” Rouletabille replied. “That poor general was always the last to learn something… He had neither telegraph, nor field telephone, nor airplane, nor anything… The roads were so bad that he couldn’t even get couriers. It was I who, at the cost of a thousand difficulties, told him about the rout of his troops around Turkbey! ” “Finally, we are witnessing the ruin of Turkey,” said a colleague. “Oh! the ruin?” It’s almost over!… If we wanted to defend Tchataldja… said Rouletabille. “In any case, we’re going to witness a revolution,” replied the journalist. “Rumor has it that Abdul-Hamid has a chance of returning to the throne,” said another. The ambassador approached Rouletabille and said: “My compliments. I have just received a telegram in which mention is made of your interesting correspondence. ” Rouletabille blushed with pleasure. “But how do you send them? If it’s not indiscreet to ask you such a question,” asked a correspondent. “Not at all. I have in my service a Transylvanian, a man named Tondor, a very resourceful fellow, who takes them to Romania… I thus avoid many delays and many troubles.” At that moment, La Candeur entered, tripped over a rug, and nearly fell as he tried to gallantly kiss the ambassador’s hand, just as he had seen Rouletabille do; he luckily held onto the ambassador’s, then, blushing from his clumsiness, approached his chief reporter and handed him a letter. “Is Tondor back? ” “Yes!”
“Will you allow me, gentlemen? News from Paris.” It was a letter from his editor. Rouletabille read it with a joy that he concealed the compliments it was full of. L’Époque had triumphed with this story of Marko Le Valaque… and all the readers of the Nouvelle Presse who had been interested in the first articles by this strange correspondent had gone to look for the sequel in the rival paper, under Rouletabille’s signature . Finally, the truth about the capture of Kirk-Kilissé had been learned, and the editor of L’Époque wrote to the reporter: Go on, my friend, and never bluff! We must leave that to the occasional journalists and to Marko the Wallachian! “Well, what are they saying in Paris?” asked the dragoman. “They say the Bulgarians will be here within eight days and that they will celebrate mass at Saint Sophia next Sunday. ” “That’s the work of the Young Turks!” said someone. “And the Germans!” added another. “Gentlemen, you know that Abdul-Hamid is expected immediately!” said a lieutenant, approaching. We received a wireless telegram on board the Léon-Gambetta informing us that the ex-sultan and his harem had been embarked in Salonika on the German stationary ship Loreleï … and the Loreleï immediately set course for the Dardanelles. Rouletabille took La Candeur aside: “Is Vladimir at his post? ” “I just saw him… Nothing new…” A journalist said: “The government acted just in time. You know that for nothing in the world did he want to see Abdul-Hamid again in the Bosphorus… but he was informed of a conspiracy that was about to break out in Salonika… It was only then that he gave orders …” “Have the conspirators been arrested?” asked a secretary. “Another little hanging to distract us…” said a young, still beardless attaché. “The horror!” said the ambassador. Candeur, very pale, looked at Rouletabille, who, rosy and cheerful, seemed in no way bothered by remorse… But the naval officer said: “Rest assured, madame, the gallows will be closed this time… The government did indeed find proof of the conspiracy among the conspirators, but the conspirators themselves had left!…” “Are you sure? ” “Absolutely, I know they were able to reach Trebizond by sea, from where they took a boat back to Odessa. By a miraculous chance, at the same time as they were being denounced, they themselves were being warned that they had been denounced! ” Candeur breathed heavily. Rouletabille smiled. “I’m sure,” said the dragoman, “that Abdul-Hamid would hardly want to return to the throne at this moment, if he knows what’s going on. ” “Yes, but he doesn’t know! ” “Well, he’d be very upset if, having become Sultan again, he were told that he might lose Constantinople and Yildiz-Kiosk… ” “And the treasury chamber,” added the dragoman, laughing. “Ah! yes, the famous treasury chamber,” all those present echoed in chorus. “Finally, did it really exist?” asked the ambassador. “It exists!” replied the dragoman. “There’s no doubt about that… And I’m not the only one who believes in it! ” “Who else? ” “Well, the current government, which has done everything possible to discover it and has not yet succeeded!…” “Not possible!” “Finally, do you know if the Young Turks, the day after the revolution, turned everything upside down in Yildiz-Kiosk… ” “Yes, and we found nothing!… ” “We found nothing… we found nothing… It’s not over yet… We did learn something, though, I know from Zekki Bey, the Secretary of the Interior, who certainly didn’t believe it, back in the Treasury! ” “And what did we learn?” asked Rouletabille, who seemed to be extremely interested in this conversation. “We learned, thanks to the spying we did around a former cadine in Yildiz-Kiosk… ” “I bet it’s about Canendé hanoum,” said the young attaché… “Ah!” They make her tell her a lot of nonsense! They make her say so many stupid things about the former court of the deposed sultan that she no longer wants to leave her house and has decided, it seems, to close her door to all her friends… –It is indeed Canendé Hanoum… They make her say a lot of things because they know that she is very well informed. She had the wit to know how to grow old and to remain until the end in the good graces of Abdul-Hamid, who confided in her willingly. Anyway, I ‘ll tell you what I was told. Canendé Hanoum is sure there is a treasure chamber! –Did she see it? –No, she didn’t! –Ah! Well, it’s always the same thing… –But she would have often seen the Sultan going there… and to get there, he always had to go through the Durdané corridor and that’s how he came back again… –So? asked the ambassador curiously. –And so we looked all around this corridor and found nothing … that’s why Zekki Bey remained so skeptical. –Where did this corridor end? asked the first secretary. –At a closed kiosk, converted into a winter garden and turned upside down… nothing was found, but they are still looking… –Me, said the naval officer, I was told something else… one day when I was gliding in a caïque on the waters of the Bosphorus, not far from the ruins of Tchéragan, my attention was drawn to a sort of pontoon brought up next to the steamboat station… On this pontoon there was a cabin from which divers were emerging… I asked what work these men were doing were engaged and one of the caidgis told me that it was the government that was carrying out a study of the underwater terrain for the construction of a ladder intended to serve as a model station for the steamboat service. As the thing was happening right in front of the Sultan’s garden and there was a lot of talk at that moment about the famous treasure chamber, I said laughingly: “Perhaps they are looking for the treasure chamber at the bottom of the Bosphorus!…” I had thrown that out as a joke and I did not attach any importance to it when Mohammed Mahmoud Effendi, with whom I was walking that day, said : “Hey! Hey!” and began to watch carefully what was happening on the pontoon. He had even asked the caidgis to stop, but immediately a caique came towards us, in which was a commissioner who asked us to move away. Then Mohammed Mahmoud Effendi said to me: “Well! Well!” That’s strange!… could Canendé Hanoum have been telling the truth? “What did she say now, Canendé Hanoum?” I asked her. “She supposedly said that if one wanted to find the treasure chamber, one had to look for it by the Bosphorus, because the Sultan had not hidden from her that he feared nothing for this chamber, since he could drown it with a single blow; from which Canendé Hanoum drew this conclusion, that it communicated with the Bosphorus. ” “That’s a story for four divers!” said Rouletabille. “Have you counted them?” asked the officer, smiling. Rouletabille blushed. –My God, yes!… I saw them like everyone else… it always amuses me to watch divers descend into the water… I ‘ll even admit that I would have given a few piastres to be in one of them’s place… –Ah! ah! You too, would you like to discover the treasure chamber? –Me! Not at all!… but I think it must be a very curious thing to tread the underwater floor of the Bosphorus… What memories one must come across at every step!… Just think of the innumerable peoples who, since the beginning of history, have passed and repassed this strait and what they must have dropped there in the process! –Yes, declared La Candeur knowingly, what a rubbish bin! –What a tomb rather… corrected the dragoman. It must be full of corpses in there!… but those divers can’t see much… “That’s what’s deceiving you…” said the lieutenant. “I’ve seen enough of them to tell you that they are perfectly equipped and enjoy the latest modern comforts, if I may put it that way. With that, they can move as they please without being held back, as in the past, by those wires and rubber hoses that made them prisoners… ” “But then! Captain, how do they breathe?” asked the first secretary. “They breathe thanks to a thick sheet metal reservoir in which air is stored under very high pressure. This reservoir is attached to their backs by means of straps. In this reservoir, the air, held in by a bellows mechanism, can only escape at its normal pressure.” Two tubes, one inhaling, the other expiring, leave the tank and end in a copper sphere fitted with large glass lenses which is screwed onto the diver’s neck… He also wears on his belt a small electric lighting device which is very simple and convenient and which gives off, in the water, a whitish light quite sufficient to see about fifteen meters away. “Ah! it must be marvelous!” Rouletabille said with an air at once enthusiastic and candid. “It must be dreadful!” said the young attaché. “What must one see down there, when one thinks of all the unfortunate men and women whom the sultans had thrown into the Bosphorus, a stone at their feet, at the bottom of a leather bag!” –Will you be quiet! –Bah! That’s history… Now the bags must be rotten and all that remains are the bodies, the skeletons that must be floating between two waters, held by their feet… what an army of underwater specters… My goodness! No, I wouldn’t attempt the journey… it can’t be fun enough!… At that moment, a new character made his entrance. Everyone exclaimed: –Kermorec! But we thought you were in Salonika!… –I’ve just arrived, and how!… With Abdul-Hamid!… –Huh?… –My goodness, I haven’t found any other way to come and join you than to take passage on the Loreleï, the German stationary ship that is bringing Abdul-Hamid back to you!… –Abdul-Hamid is in Constantinople! cried Rouletabille. Madam, Sir, Ambassador, excuse me: the necessity of the report… a dispatch to send… Chapter 19. THE LORELEI A minute later, he was in the street with La Candeur. And the two of them began to run towards the great bridge, which they crossed. Once past the Golden Horn, they slipped through the streets of Istanbul, but they were stopped every moment by streams of emigrants. Traffic was becoming impossible. There were theories of carts pulled by oxen, in which, amidst their chests and their clothes, women and children slept. All these unfortunates, fleeing the scourge, had left their villages and had fallen back on Constantinople. They slept in the open air, in the streets, in the squares, among the mosques. Rouletabille and La Candeur, however, arrived at the tip of the Serai, not far from the railway line, and there they entered a shack, on the threshold of which Tondor was waiting for them. “Vladimir?” asked Rouletabille. “Gone,” replied Tondor… left in his caïque as soon as the German stationary was in sight… He followed him… He’ll meet you at the Dolma-Bagtché ladder… ” “Good!” said Rouletabille, visibly satisfied; and after a glance at the nightlife of the Bosphorus, where the regulation lights of the stationary were lit, while the lights of the caïques going and coming from the Asian coast to that of Europe glided, he told La Candeur and Tondor to follow him and the three of them took the road back to Galata. Rouletabille was all in thought, he paid no attention to what was happening around him. As he walked up the Rue de Péra, he was not even offended by the blare of the orchestras, the gaiety of the café terraces, the lights at the doors of the theatres and the bellowing crowds, the illuminated shops and all the indifferent and joyful movement of the inhabitants of this cosmopolitan city, capital of an empire which had nevertheless just been struck to the heart. He thought of only one thing, repeated only one thing to himself: Was Ivana already Abdul-Hamid’s prey? He did not believe it; he thought he had acted in time by taking the responsibility of denouncing the conspiracy and he hoped that Abdul-Hamid had left Salonika before being joined by Kasbeck and Ivana. Meanwhile, La Candeur was thirsty and would have liked to stop at a brasserie, but Rouletabille pushed him aside and, at the corner of the artillery barracks, quickly made him take the path that led to Dolma-Bagtché. When they arrived at the ladder, they heard a hail from the bottom of a caïque. It was Vladimir. “Well?” asked Rouletabille, jumping into the caïque. Vladimir pointed to the large shadow of a ship in the harbor. “The Loreleï,” he said. “So, is there…” He was panting, not hiding his anguish. “Yes,” said Vladimir, “I saw him… ” “You saw Kasbeck?” Rouletabille continued in a hoarse voice. “Yes, he got off the Loreleï… ” “All alone?… ” “All alone… ” “My God!” moaned the reporter, and he put his head in his hands. For him, it was the worst, the catastrophe… and for her… The poor child!… The poor child!… At first he could say nothing else and he wept. There was no longer any doubt: Kasbeck had arrived in Salonika in time to bring Ivana to Abdul Hamid… and, after having given this beautiful gift to the dethroned sultan, he had come down alone from the Loreleï, abandoning Ivana to the whims of her master. Around Rouletabille, Vladimir, La Candeur, Tondor were silent. Finally Rouletabille raised his head. “Where is Kasbeck?” he asked. Vladimir pointed again at the German stationary. “But you told me you saw him go down. ” “Yes, all alone, in a caïque, but he came back on board. ” “Ah!… did he see you? ” “No! “Anyway, did you learn anything?” –What everyone knows: that Abdul-Hamid and his entourage will be disembarked in a few hours and locked up with his harem in the palace of Beylerbey on the coast of Asia. Abdul-Hamid has eleven wives with him. –That’s right! That’s right!… He only had ten… We know the eleventh! –Eleven wives, two eunuchs, and his youngest newborn. –Ah! We must see Kasbeck!… I must speak to Kasbeck, Rouletabille declared with renewed energy. –A quarter of an hour earlier, you would have seen him descending this ladder. –What did he come to do in Pera?… You followed him?… –Can you imagine!… As soon as he landed, he headed towards the square of Top-Hané. Before arriving there, he stopped in a small street and entered an old house more closed than a fortress… He stayed there for five minutes at most… And then he came back and ordered his caïdgis to take him back to Loreleï! … –Could you find this house where he went? –Certainly!… And besides, it is inhabited by a well-known person… I had time to make inquiries. –By whom?… Speak! –By Canendé hanoum… –By Canendé hanoum… Thank you! Rouletabille said, shaking Vladimir’s hand ; perhaps all is not lost! In any case, we must act as if we could still save her!… And even in spite of the fate that may have been reserved for the unfortunate woman, we must tear her away from there… Isn’t that right, my friends?… Will you make one last effort with me? –Rouletabille, they both said, we are devoted to you in life and in death. “Ah! We’ll save her!… We’ll save her!… Perhaps tonight it’s not too late!… And I want to succeed tonight!… “All the same, you’re not going to spend another night at Yildiz-Kiosk?” protested La Candeur. “The last one, La Candeur… And tonight I swear to you that we ‘ll succeed!” La Candeur shook her head. “You know very well that we’ve seen everything, visited everything, everything, everything!… What’s the point?… There’s no more treasure at Yildiz-Kiosk than in my pocket!… If you want to try something, we’d be better off risking a blow directly from the Lorelei or the Beylerbey Palace! ” “That would be madness!” replied Rouletabille. ” Can you imagine if there will be a shortage of troops around Abdul-Hamid and if he and his harem will be guarded!… To kidnap a woman at the time of the landing? We would be jumped on by all the caïdgis in the harbor… Madness!… Yes, yes, let’s return to Yildiz-Kiosk! I tell you that I will succeed tonight!… Let me have, tonight, Abdul-Hamid’s treasures and we will see if he will not give us back Ivana! Vladimir nodded in turn: –I think like La Candeur!… We saw everything, over there, touched everything!… –Ah! well, that’s what’s deceiving you! said Rouletabille, we haven’t touched everything!… And the reporter jumped onto the last step of the ladder. La Candeur went down in his turn and Vladimir was preparing to follow him. –No, said Rouletabille, you, Vladimir, stay here… Or rather no, you go and go in front of Canendé hanoum’s house… Keep an eye on it, Kasbeck will certainly return there and it is not certain that he will come back by this ladder, consequently it is quite useless to wait for him here… Track him, do not leave him again… Having said this, Rouletabille led La Candeur into the maze of dark alleys which climbed towards Yildiz-Kiosk. However, La Candeur was astonished to see him soon turn to the right and reach the bank near the ruins of Tcheragan; this corner was deserted and dark. La Candeur let himself be guided to the water which came to lap at his feet. He wondered where Rouletabille was going with this, but in the shadows he saw that the latter was leaning over a small boat moored to a stake and pulling him towards him. He made La Candeur climb into it and took the oars after having detached the mooring. Chapter 20. THE BOSPHORUS, AT NIGHT… Silently, they passed the ruins, the gardens of Yildiz, and following the shore, they glided toward Orta-Keuï. Before arriving at the steamboat station, they stopped in the opaque night on a pile supporting ancient hovels that seemed abandoned. There, they waited. The Bosphorus was becoming more and more silent and deserted. All movement ceases early on these tranquil waters; the lights of the ships were now motionless like stars; the icy wind of the Black Sea, in the silence of all things, made its lugubrious hooting heard. Following the direction of Rouletabille’s gaze, La Candeur saw that he was staring obstinately at a sort of pontoon floating half a cable’s length away, held by moorings and anchors. A quarter of an hour passed like this. “You didn’t hear anything?” Rouletabille asked in La Candeur’s ear. The other replied with a negative nod. “That’s funny! I thought I heard a noise coming from the pontoon. ” “I didn’t hear anything,” said La Candeur. “Well, come on!” And Rouletabille took up his oars again. He approached the pontoon with a thousand precautions, avoiding the lapping that might have betrayed them. But the pontoon seemed completely deserted. They landed, moored the boat, and climbed onto it. Immediately on the pontoon, La Candeur imitated Rouletabille, who advanced on all fours. This pontoon was surmounted by a cabin, which they approached from behind, on the side opposite the door; but they thus arrived at a window which, to Rouletabille’s great astonishment, was half-open. The moon appeared at that moment and the two young people flattened themselves with one movement on the deck… Finally Rouletabille reached the window and, gently lifting himself, looked into the cabin. At once he almost collapsed into La Candeur’s arms, heaving a sigh; frightened, La Candeur raised his head in turn and cast a look. “Oh!” he said. “Gaulow!” “It’s him, isn’t it?” asked Rouletabille. “Oh! there’s no mistake…” Rouletabille then remembered the conversation he had overheard between Gaulow and Kasbeck at Karakoulé: Kasbeck wanted to make Gaulow confess that he had gone to look for the Treasure Room near the ruins of Tcheragan… and Gaulow had denied it [See The Black Castle. ]… Rouletabille now had proof that not only had Kasbeck spoken the truth, but that Gaulow was still searching… As for La Candeur, everything they had told the embassy about the divers came back to him, because they were there on the very divers’ boat… and they had just surprised Gaulow in one of the two rooms of the cabin, putting on the heavy uniform of these underwater workers! They crawled along the shack and waited there again… A few minutes later, the door opened and with slow steps, heavy as a stone statue, a man advanced cautiously in the shadow of the cabin, lifting with difficulty soles that seemed to be held to the pontoon. He went towards a ladder which was placed against the pontoon and which plunged into the Bosphorus. The man entered the water, taking with him a sort of pickaxe which he had attached to his belt. From rung to rung, he sank deeper… Soon, only his torso was visible, soon only the enormous copper ball which enclosed his head was visible, and finally the head disappeared… Rouletabille had held back La Candeur who had wanted to throw himself on the monster; when the slight bubbling which had occurred when the man entered the water had calmed down and the liquid had regained its immobility, Rouletabille went to the ladder, and there, pressed his ear against one of the uprights. He waited like this for five minutes. “Why didn’t you want to?” asked La Candeur in a dull voice. “Because a fight might attract attention, and we’ve never needed silence so much,” Rouletabille said. “And then, you know, he could defend himself with his pickaxe.” So saying, he untied the ropes that held the ladder to the pontoon, and when the ladder was free, with the help of La Candeur, he pulled it towards him. As soon as they felt it floating, they abandoned it, and it went away, following the current… “You’re right,” La Candeur said. “That’s better. Well, he’ll be blown to bits when he can’t find his ladder! Another one we won’t hear from again! ” “And now, quickly get to work!” Rouletabille commanded. “What must we do?” “Follow me…” They both entered the cabin, and all they had to do was push open the door. There, they entered a first room cluttered with pumps, pipes, ropes, a machine, and compressed air tanks, just as the naval officer had described them to the French embassy. In the second room, there were diving suits, copper spheres, small electric lanterns, all the equipment necessary for the research that the government was carrying out under the Bosphorus. All this was locked up at night, in this hut, after the day’s work. Rouletabille quickly realized that some of the tanks were still full of air, ready to operate. And he passed two of these tanks and four lead soles to La Candeur. He himself loaded himself with two helmets and two suits, grabbed two picks; then the reporters returned to the boat. “Where are you taking us with this?” asked La Candeur. “There’s another story! ” “Wait, come quickly.” –Are we going to go down into the Bosphorus too? –Do you think so?… The others have been searching the Bosphorus for a long time: the government by day, and Gaulow by night… It didn’t work out any better for one of them than for the other… as you see! The Bosphorus is big!… And now, shut up! Not another word!… –So if it’s not to go down into the Bosphorus, it’s as a souvenir that you’re taking these things with you? –I tell you to shut up… They were approaching the bank of Orta-Keuï: they disembarked and slipped, laden with their curious burdens, into the gardens of the former sultan. They were not likely to meet anyone in this deserted quarter nor in the abandoned gardens at this time of night. They entered by jumping over a wall, without hesitation, although it was very dark, the moon having disappeared again under the clouds rushing from the North towards the Marmara. The two young people seemed to know the way perfectly and no doubt had frequented it a lot the previous nights. The road they had to take through the gardens was long, but they did not linger to dream in these historic places, which saw so many things… so many horrible things… The palaces and gardens of Yildiz-Kiosk occupy the summits and slopes of the Bechick-Tach and Orta-Keuï hills, as well as the intervening valleys. All this is immense. It was there that, a voluntary prisoner, Abdul-Hamid lived for thirty-two years, surrounded by a people of courtiers, spies, and parasites. It was from Yildiz, it was said, that, every night, people condemned to death, exile, and deportation left. It was there that the dreadful Armenian vespers were organized and prescribed … it was there finally, in Yildiz, that Abdul-Hamid signed, on April 26, 1908, his fall from grace and that he had to abandon, weeping like a child, treasures that have not all been found… and that are still being sought… After having crossed the very high wall of the inner garden, using the depredations that they knew as if they had done them themselves, Rouletabille and La Candeur found the famous artificial river, the creation of which had cost fabulous sums and on which Abdul-Hamid loved to travel in a motorboat in the company of his favorite sultanas. How many ghosts to evoke on these once holy banks, now desecrated, even by the giaour! But our young people had not come there to resurrect the dead! It was a matter of saving a living creature, and they came to seek her ransom! Chapter 21. WHERE CANDOR BITTERLY REGRETS HAVING A BIG HEAD Not far from the artificial river was a group of buildings that once mysteriously communicated with the haremlik by a long underground passage. There were two kiosks there, connected by a corridor called the Durdané corridor. In one of them, Abdul-Hamid liked to stand, because from this spot, which was quite high, he could, with the help of a very complete set of telescopes and spyglasses, discover Stamboul and also the coast of Asia in detail, and sometimes surprise the comings and goings of his officers , whom he liked to mystify; the other kiosk was converted into a winter garden. Rouletabille and Candeur entered through a skylight into the Durdané corridor ; When they were in this long black passage, they groped their way towards the winter garden. There, the shadows were less thick, the little light that floated in the night outside entered this vast room through arched windows that opened very high in the walls and through large bays that had been made in the roof… Trees, of the rarest species, stretched out towards the young people the threatening ghosts of their rough arms. But neither Rouletabille nor La Candeur seemed impressed. Rouletabille had led La Candeur to the edge of a vast pond on which water lilies floated. “Listen, my boy,” said La Candeur, “are we not going to start again? Ah! They seemed to know Durdané’s corridor and the meanders of the winter garden!… They had visited every corner, felt every tree, counted every flower, felt all the earth. “There isn’t a corner we haven’t touched! ” “Yes, there is one thing we haven’t touched! ” “What is it?” Rouletabille pointed to a reflection in the shadows. “But what?” “That!” ” The water!”
“Yes, the water!” “And if Durdané’s corridor leads to the treasure chamber, it leads there by water!… for, in fact, we have seen everything, visited everything… except the pond!… ” “Ah! I understand!” said La Candeur… ” You see, if Canendé hanoum spoke the truth, we are still good!” said Rouletabille… “But let’s get dressed! ” “We are going down into the pond? ” “Why do you think I had these diving suits brought to you? ” “And you think that every time Abdul-Hamid wanted to visit his treasures, he disguised himself as a diver?” –Idiot!… –Very kind!… –Once again, if the Durdané corridor leads to the treasure chamber, the door to this chamber, since we have not found it elsewhere, must be there!… And then I can clearly see Abdul-Hamid, who is the most suspicious mind of his time, imagining this door at the bottom of the pond. Of course, from the moment he established this door at the bottom of a swimming pool, it was with the ease of being able to empty the pond and refill it at will. How? By what secret system?… I don’t know!… If the thing was done, it must have been done at the same time as the artificial river into which the pond can flow. “But you, you don’t know the system?” said La Candeur. “No! And I won’t waste time looking for it!… I’m going down into the water, me! I have a diving suit, me! ” “And me too! ” “Well! Let’s be quick… Here! Attach the air tank to my back with the straps, securely, eh? ” “And if you find a door?” asked La Candeur, fixing the reservoir on Rouletabille’s back, what will you do in the water? “Well then! I’ll try to open it!” “It might not be very easy. ” “We’ll see! Let’s find the door first! If I told you that I have great hopes for our expedition!” “The system of the artificial river, the pond in the winter garden, and the connection between the treasure chamber and the Bosphorus, all that must have been done at once!” “If he drowned his treasures, either with water from the artificial river or with water from the Bosphorus, the door is perhaps not closed at the bottom. All that can or must connect together.” Do we know?… This kiosk, this river and the underground works near the Bosphorus were executed in a most audacious manner and it is said secretly that all the architects of this work, the contractors, the masons and their families were hanged or disappeared forever!… Well! are you ready? “Holy cow!” said La Candeur, “my head doesn’t fit into the helmet!” It was true, the giant’s enormous head didn’t fit into the circle that was screwed to the shoulders of the waterproof garment. “Very well,” said Rouletabille, “I’ll go down alone. ” La Candeur jumped, wept, moaned, cursed the country, wrung his arms, but he had to finish equipping Rouletabille who was growing impatient, eager to know if his hypothesis would come true. Finally, Rouletabille played the air bellows… He was breathing very well in his helmet: he made the electric spark spring from his little lantern. He was ready. Urged on by La Candeur, who was swooning with anguish, he advanced on his leaden soles to the edge of the pond that occupied the center of the winter garden. “I’m waiting for you!” said La Candeur, as if Rouletabille could hear him. Rouletabille slowly descended the first marble steps of the pond , leaning on the iron pick he had brought. With his feet, slowly, he searched, groped, and circled each step underwater .
Suddenly, he stopped his circular walk. He had come across a straight, steep staircase that led to the bottom of the immense basin. So he went down, down… His helmet was visible for a moment longer on the water, then in the water… then there was only a light, a vague glow that spread out in the stirred wave. And then there was no more light at all and nothing moved anymore. Candour fell to his knees, groaning. Chapter 22. THE RANSOM Rouletabille soon touched the bottom of the pool. As soon as he felt a wide, solid surface beneath his leaden soles, he began to move more easily. He could see quite clearly. The water around him had a pale, milky glow…
He examined the stone walls meticulously, reviewing the joints, feeling the wall with his gloves or resting his pickaxe against it. Suddenly, he had, in the copper sphere that crowned him like a enormous helmet, an exclamation… In front of him, there, on his right, a corridor opened in the circular wall! The existence of this corridor, although it led directly to the pond, should certainly not have been suspected, even by those who had been able to see the immense basin empty of all its waves. And this, because of the door which, ordinarily, would have closed it. This door, at this moment open, presented itself in profile, having rolled on a central hinge around which it turned as if on a pivot, like a lock gate. As it presented itself to him, Rouletabille could pass to the right or to the left; he went around it, fully aware of the way in which it worked, how it pivoted on itself, on its center, in the water, but unable to discover the system which controlled its maneuver from the outside and out of the water. He imagined with near certainty that the door or doors—for there could be others like it—allowing the flooding of the underground passage leading to the treasure, had been opened so quickly, at the last minute, by Abdul-Hamid himself, that he had not had time, once the underground passages were flooded, to activate the closing system again, otherwise the door, pivoting again, would have returned to its place in the wall, merging with it. Rouletabille could indeed see that the heavy door before him appeared in bronze on one side, but adorned with marble slabs on the other, on the side that would close in the water room. Moved more than one could say, for he was beginning to be convinced that he had finally discovered the mystery of Durdané’s corridor and that he would soon enter the treasure chamber, he slipped along the door and advanced into the corridor. The water yielded gently to his pressure; he used his pick as a cane; in the water his lead soles ceased to be obstacles to his walking. In his copper sphere, he breathed easily and he had calculated approximately from the weight of the reservoir and the pressure of the air escaping from it that he could count on at least two hours of good atmosphere, putting things at worst. If his heart beat with great dull beats in his chest, it was not from physical discomfort, but from moral joy, at the idea that he was finally going to reach the goal which, for forty-eight hours, he had almost despaired of attaining… Suddenly he no longer saw the walls of the corridor… He saw nothing but water… water… on all sides… He was at the center of this murky reflection; water… and that was all… He walked… he walked again… and then stopped… He still saw nothing but water. He began to get frightened… Where was he?… He imagined that, leaving the corridor, he had entered a vast room whose walls he could not see. And to meet them, he changed his gait. He headed to his left, thus making, with the line he had followed until then, a right angle. He took ten steps… He took twenty steps… Still nothing!… This underground room must have been immense! Finally the light of the lamp shone faintly on a marble wall … He approached the wall whose joints he could now follow … It was a beautiful green marble, as beautiful as that of the columns of Hagia Sophia, and which had perhaps been torn like this one from the Temple of the Sun at Heliopolis. The richness of these bare walls seemed to Rouletabille a good omen, and he walked along the wall, sliding his hands along it. So close to the wall, the electric light illuminated the flagstones perfectly, and the reporter touched them one by one, asking each one if it was not going to reveal its secret to him, if it was not this one or that one who was hiding the inexhaustible treasure from him. He tried to discover some anomaly in the junction, some defect in the cementing, some exceptional mark that might have put him on the right track… But slabs followed slabs, all alike and, under the pick that struck them, kept the same immobility, the same immutability… Rouletabille began to despair… Was this incredible discovery of the flooded underground passages simply going to result in a walk underwater? And would he have to return empty-handed?… without having seen anything, without having guessed anything about the precious hiding place? And now, on his right, another corridor opened up… a long opaline passage that stretched out its path of mystery before him… He hesitated before this new problem… and then he resolved, for once , not to leave this room until he knew it completely… until he had gone through it from end to end, until he had finished feeling and knocking on its walls. So he slipped past the corridor and found the wall of the room again… and then a corner. He remained for a good five minutes examining this corner… and the wall continued, in its uniformity… Rouletabille’s misery was great and he shivered under his underwater shell… not that he was cold, for he was now used to this sensation of freshness that had first seized him, but his heart froze at the thought that, having arrived in the treasure chamber, he would have to leave it without having discovered anything. He had hoped for a moment, having found the door to the water room open and blaming Abdul-Hamid’s dismay for forgetting to close it, that he might also find, in the treasure room, some proof of this rapid escape… some half-open chest. But there was nothing in that room, nothing but walls, those eternal green walls… Was he really sure, moreover, that he was in the treasure room?… Was it not at the end of one of those corridors which ended in the room he was crossing? Look!… another corridor!… He passes… he finds the wall again… it seems to him that in doing so he is retracing his steps, describing a vast rectangle… Suddenly, he shouts into his helmet!… On his right, there, there!… An illumination, a thousand fires suddenly lit up… A blaze under the light of his lamp… a focus of radiant light, a dazzling scintillation in the gap in the wall… Fascinated, Rouletabille advances. No more doubt! There is the treasure hole! These have rolled down to the flagstones on which he walks and he feels that his lead soles are crushing precious stones!… A large slab of green marble forming a door has been folded halfway against the wall and there is the magic chest. He puts out his hand… He lets his pick slide to his feet… and with both hands, with both hands, he plunges into these riches… Jewels! Necklaces ! Pearls! Tiaras! diamonds to be moved by the shovelful!… And he moves them, moves them… lifts them, lets them fall!… pushes his arm in, never tires of feeling, of touching, of taking, of letting go and taking back all these marvels that are worth millions! Millions !… And in his helmet, he cries!… he laughs!… he is suffocating!… he is delirious!… Ivana!… Ivana!… he sighs. And he leans against the wall to keep from falling, for he feels that beneath him his legs are wobbly and that he no longer has the strength to maintain his balance in the liquid element that surrounds him… He pushes, clinging to it, the green marble door… Oh! miracle!… behind this door… another is open… and another… and another!… On this part of the wall, the marble plaques have not been closed… The master, in his terrified flight, probably did not have time… and it is possible that the other walls, the other plaques also contain millions!… millions!… Rouletabille relives, in his disordered imagination, this supreme scene where Abdul-Hamid, feeling his last hour of sovereignty come and perhaps his death imminent, wanted to see again, one last time before leaving and perhaps dying, all this wealth accumulated over so many years… One last time, he wanted to feast his eyes on it since he could not take it with him and he went down one last time through the Durdané corridor and the immense basin of the winter garden into the treasure chamber!… And he opened the green marble doors… but he did not have time to close them all… He did not have time to close them all… Steadfast with fear… he fled!… he came back up just in time to drown behind him all his jewels and all his millions… for it is not only jewels that are found piled up there, but gold! gold!… Piles of gold coins!… Enough to buy all consciences and pay for all crimes!… Enough to redeem the empire, perhaps, one day!… For Rouletabille, all this represents only one thing, one thing for which he would give this gold, and these pearls, and these jewels, and these rubies, and these emeralds, and these sapphires, one thing for which he would give all the diadems on earth: the ransom of Ivana!… –The ransom! The ransom!… As he repeated these words deliriously, he made a rather abrupt movement, for he had just struck the pick he had let slide; he turned around and against the corner of one of the half-open marble slabs he broke his little electric lamp. At once all this magic was extinguished and he was plunged instantly into the deepest darkness. Chapter 23. UNDER WATER AND IN THE NIGHT To say what happened at that precise moment in Rouletabille’s soul would be difficult. At first he didn’t understand. All that night after all that light! Why? Why were all his treasures disappearing at the very moment he had just touched them? Was he the plaything of some wicked genie who, in the land of the Arabian Nights, was teasing him and making illusory visions pass before his eyes?
This was his first thought: the nonexistence of that. But still, as, with a spontaneous gesture, he continued to touch, in the night, these riches that the night seemed to want to take from him, he knew that he had not been dreaming. The wall was there, and the holes in the wall, and the jewels and the gold, under his fingers, and the marble doors he was bumping into. Then his hand went down to his belt and he touched the broken electrical device. It was a completely natural accident , the significance of which he did not immediately understand , but which nevertheless gave him a shudder, for his situation was becoming dreadful at the bottom of this water and at the bottom of this night. However, he did not immediately grasp the possibility of a catastrophe. He steeled himself against fear and summoned all his intelligence, all his lucidity. In short, he was not lost in the center of something unknown. He was in a room whose path he knew.
He had to retrace his steps, that’s all… without losing his head, following the wall very precisely… To get there, he had counted two corridors before the corridor of the pool. He leaned against the wall and, with his foot, looked for his pickaxe, which might be useful to him. His leg struck the wooden handle, which stood floating between two bodies of water. He grabbed it and then began walking backward. Ah! there is the first corridor. There he let go of the wall and, carefully orienting his lead soles, he advanced, arms outstretched. He congratulated himself on soon reaching the other corner of the wall, on the other side of the entrance to the corridor… And he continued, along the wall, his groping walk. Here is the second corridor… He walks… he walks again… And here is the third!… Suddenly he stops and an inexpressible anguish grips his heart… He thinks that there is no reason why this third corridor should be the right one!… Indeed, on leaving the corridor of the pool, he went straight into the treasure room, right to the middle, and then he turned left until he met the wall; but between this part of the wall that he reached and the entrance corridor, which tells him that there is no entrance, which tells him that there are no other corridors!… Should he take this one? Should he avoid it?… If he takes it, will he not find at its end a new labyrinth and death?… If he avoids it, does he not risk leaving behind him the only possible exit that he will perhaps never find again?… Terrible hesitation and then fierce resolution… He walks… He advances in the liquid blackness… He plunges into the corridor… He stops… He feels the water around him with his foot, hoping to hit the door which, held by its central hinge, opens in the middle of the corridor, on a plane parallel to the walls… But he feels nothing!… nothing but the wall that one of his hands does not let go of… and he slides along the wall… And suddenly the hand trembles… A corner… a new room… Is this the water feature?… No! otherwise he would have encountered the door… but perhaps he passed by the door without touching it… He turns around, veers a little to his right, lets go of the wall, retraces his steps… Now he is in a hurry to return to the treasure chamber, for he must get out of this corridor, which leads he knows not where… The corner of a wall… My God! He is beginning to get lost!… He really thought he was retracing his steps… If he had been mistaken, it would be too terrible… If he had not been mistaken, he can hope that, having returned to the treasure chamber, the next corridor will be the right one! He walks… he climbs, encountering corners… and now he no longer knows! No, he no longer knows if he is in a room whose corners he is touching, or if he is entering a corridor, or if he is leaving one… He no longer knows!… He no longer knows!… He only knows that he is not in the basin of the winter garden, otherwise his hands would slip on circular stones, and these are flat… He absolutely wants to know if he is in a corridor… To do this, he abandons the wall he is holding to head in the opposite direction… He walks… he walks… nothing!… His hands no longer touch anything… So he retraces his steps. But he can no longer find the wall! His ears begin to ring furiously. Is it the lack of air that is beginning to make itself felt? Or the madness that is coming with its bells?… Chapter 24. CONTINUATION OF THE DRAMA UNDER WATER AND IN THE NIGHT Rouletabille thinks he is going to die… suffocated in the middle of this night and at the bottom of this water… Ah! how he would like to find a wall!… only a stone to support him!… to attach him to something! It seems to him that he would be less lost! It is horrible to be like this in the black, liquid nothingness… His legs give way under him, he feels that he is going to fall, to lie down… forever! He is going to die… in this tomb full of millions!… that he has violated!… and that guards him! If his ears make him hear strange sounds, his eyes, at this supreme moment, as sometimes happens in the night with closed eyelids, suddenly make him see sinister gleams… circles of light that dance the dance of millions… the dance of Abdul-Hamid’s treasures … Magnificent dream on the threshold of death… Before he breathes his last, the treasures that he came to seek there, at the bottom of the earth and the water, have a macabre coquetry to shine for him once more… yes… There are radiances of jewels there … Thus, this little circle of milky light can only be one of those diadems that he dared to touch just now and which comes to dance around him , as if it were on the forehead of an invisible queen who would dance and who would be a dwarf!… For the circle of light advances to a small height. And now the vision expands… This diadem is now vast like a great wheel whose hub would be occupied by a cabochon of unbearable brilliance… Suddenly this cabochon ceases to shine. It is no longer a diadem that he sees, nor a luminous forehead on the head of a dwarf… but an immense shadow of a man surrounded by a circle of glaucous clarity. At first Rouletabille believes that it is his own shadow, his reflection, for the shadow has its own shape; and his head is crowned with this helmet, this enormous copper sphere which rests on the shoulders of the diver. And the other also holds in his hand a pick, like Rouletabille’s pick… However Rouletabille does not move, and the shadow and the light move!… Rouletabille, who has straightened up, remains straight… and the shadow bends… Rouletabille’s arms remain stuck to his body and the arms of the shadow extend in a gesture of surprise or fright… And in front of the shadow, in the wall, there are marvelous reflections!… And suddenly Rouletabille is reborn, breathes, thinks, realizes, remembers: –Gaulow!… He has before him Gaulow, who has just discovered the treasures of Abdul Hamid!… But then it is salvation! It’s salvation if Gaulow doesn’t see him!… Since it’s impossible for him, Rouletabille, to find the way back to the winter garden in this aquatic labyrinth, he will follow Gaulow and leave with him by the Bosphorus, since Gaulow came by the Bosphorus! And Rouletabille blesses his luck which, just now, on the pontoon, held him back at the moment when he had been tempted, as much and perhaps more than La Candeur, to rush at Gaulow and kill him at the moment when the latter had appeared to them, embarrassed in his diving suit! Now, it’s Gaulow who saves him! However, Rouletabille continues to think that if Gaulow’s presence saves him, it doesn’t suit Ivana… Gaulow now knows the location of the treasures, and Ivana’s ransom is now compromised… Then, immediately, this conclusion appeared in all its clarity to the reporter’s mind: Gaulow, without suspecting it, must save me… and disappear!. With great precaution, Rouletabille moved away from the center of light… and he waited… The man had thrown himself on his knees before one of these marvelous treasures and was digging into it with both hands. He was filling a bag he had brought with him with precious stones . When this bag was full, he got up, took his pickaxe and after pushing back the marble slabs, as if he feared the unwelcome visit of some curious person at the bottom of this underwater vault, he went to the opposite side from the one Rouletabille had come from. The reporter, behind him, advanced. He took a step each time the other took one and was very careful to keep his distance. Suddenly, in the milky light that surrounded Gaulow in front of him, Rouletabille perceived the profile of a bronze door such as he had found at the exit of the pond. He no longer doubted that they had arrived at the Bosphorus, especially since Gaulow, advancing on this door, made a gesture as if to roll it away.
Rouletabille then made a sudden movement to throw himself forward. Was Gaulow going to escape him? Was he going to lock him in this tomb? Did this movement discover Rouletabille? In any case, the man suddenly stopped worrying about the door, then After a few moments of immobility, he took a few steps towards Rouletabille in the corridor. The other stepped back. But Gaulow advanced again, raising his pickaxe. Rouletabille no longer doubted that he would be discovered and raised his pickaxe in turn. Then the two men remained motionless again, staring at each other through the large lens of their helmets, picks raised… They understood that one of the two had to stay there, and that after having discovered such a secret, there was one too many on earth and under the waters! The man, tall and strong, judged that Rouletabille, small, thin, with a puny appearance under his enormous helmet, would be easy prey for him. He advanced as quickly as the clothing in which he moved allowed. Rouletabille, for his part, retreated again. He wanted to use cunning and thought that he had everything to gain by leaving the circle of light. He fled, if one can call this difficult retreat in this water, which had never seemed so heavy to move, a flight. And he let his pickaxe slip as if it had accidentally escaped him. The other immediately went to this weapon and picked it up, no doubt pleased by an event that diminished his adversary. Meanwhile, taking advantage of Gaulow bending down to pick up his pick, Rouletabille collapsed, stretched out against the wall, on the ground. Gaulow continued on his way, looking for him. When Gaulow passed in front of him, Rouletabille got up very slowly and as the man, stopped, wondered where he had gone, he threw himself, from behind, on him; and tore out, with both hands, the two tubes of inspiration and expiration!… At first, under the rush, the man staggered and then regained his balance, and suddenly raised his hand to his helmet. Then Rouletabille witnessed something horrible, the suffocation of this large body, which was making disordered gestures to relieve itself of the formidable weight that weighed on its shoulders… and which was struggling against the fatal grip of the element. It stretched out its hands one last time towards Rouletabille and suddenly collapsed, rolled on the ground, put its hands to its chest, gave a few starts and then remained lying there. It was dead. By a miracle, the electric lantern that he had at his belt had not broken. Rouletabille went to take it from it and, armed with this propitious light, he picked up the bag of jewels, then, immediately, went to the door, not lingering to contemplate its victim. The door obeyed easily the push of the reporter, receiving an equal pressure from all sides, plus his own. It turned on its hinges. He turned with it and when it was closed he was outside, in the Bosphorus. Rouletabille realized the difficulties Gaulow had had to overcome before finding this door which was almost covered with algae and embedded between two walls, one of which jutted out, almost hiding the other. The reporter emerged from this impasse and was on the very bed of the Bosphorus. He wasted no time in searching for the remains of vanished civilizations. He looked along the bank for a natural ramp, did not take long to find it… then hoped for a ladder, a staircase, and was lucky enough to finally come across a step, as there were so many in these parts, a step which he climbed and which was followed by others. And so little by little he emerged from the level of the strait, unscrewed his sphere not without effort and breathed the icy air outside with a joy that we refuse to describe. He realized that he was very close to the ruins of Tcheragan and then he thought of La Candeur who was still waiting for him in the winter garden and who must be in a beautiful trance. He relieved himself of his waterproof garment, picked it up, tied all his utensils and the bag together and resumed the path he had taken with La Candeur. However, at the foot of the wall he had to cross, he left all his impedimenta under a stone. Finally, he reached the corridors of Durdané and, approaching the winter garden, began to hear a lapping that was not ordinary… A minute later he was in the arms of La Candeur, who had thought him dead and who, for the sixth time, had just plunged into the pond in search of his chief reporter. We will not describe the stupefaction and the disordered joy of the good La Candeur… –It’s funny, he said to Rouletabille, when he had recovered a little from his emotions and had found his voice, it’s you who went for a walk underwater and it’s me who’s wet!… Chapter 25. IN WHICH ROULETABILLE FINDS IVANA AND EXCHANGES WITH HER SOME NECESSARY EXPLANATIONS A few days later, Rouletabille was very moved when he lifted the copper knocker of an old door in one of those ancient alleys which border the Place de Top-Hané. The windows of this most forbidding-looking residence were adorned with iron bars and double wooden grids, such as one sees in the most sombre hotels of Galata or Istanbul, on the other side of the Golden Horn. The moucharabiés of the modern houses that climb the slopes of Pera have a more coquettish, fresher, almost inviting appearance and seem, in passing, ready to play with the mystery they guard. Rouletabille, after a glance at this fortress whose dark line stood out against the whiteness of the recently fallen snow, knocked three times and waited. God! how sad and deserted this little alley was, and silent, under its white cloak! Winters are harsh and icy in Constantinople. Rouletabille, who had not taken the time to buy a fur, was shivering. Finally the door opened and a large cavas devil, gilded on all seams, waited for the young man to give his name. He made him repeat his name twice , after which Rouletabille was asked to enter. The reporter ordered the driver of the carriage that had brought him to wait for him and entered this prehistoric house. The Cavas immediately introduced him into a drawing-room, asked him to sit on the sofa that ran around the room, and disappeared. Two minutes later, a tall black person arrived, carrying cups of coffee and small crystal compotes full of rose preserves on a silver tray. He disappeared in turn. Five more minutes passed, and an old man in a green turban, a very old man bent over by the years, whose white beard seemed to sweep the carpet, made his entrance. He greeted Rouletabille very gravely and sat down, immediately attending to the dinner; while doing so, he kept talking with gentle volubility, in a very childish tone; only, as he spoke Turkish and Rouletabille did not understand him, Rouletabille did not answer him. Rouletabille tasted these little sweets impatiently and every moment looked towards the door through which the old man had entered; but it was another door that opened: an enormous eunuch, lifting a tapestry, let pass a black ghost. What prodigious event was happening for this black ghost, who was a woman, to cross the doors of the selamlik reserved exclusively for men, especially in ancient dwellings like this one, inhabited by old Turks with green turbans? It was impossible to see anything of this woman’s features; she must have had a triple veil under her funereal tchartchaf with which all the great Turkish ladies now wrap themselves to go out and which does not leave, like the yalmack of ancient times, the possibility of uncovering at least the forehead and the splendor of the gaze. It is true that, most often, under this tchartchaf, our modern Turkish women are dressed in the latest Parisian fashion and with an elegance which comes in straight line of the Rue de la Paix. “Canendé hanoum?” Rouletabille pronounced, bowing three times, for he was before a princess who had shut herself away in this deserted corner to console herself for not having given children to the ex-sultan and to mourn in private a vanished regime. Canendé hanoum, who spoke French like any woman of quality in Turkey, introduced her uncle, the old Turk with the green turban, a former divisional general who had achieved glory at Plevna. The general, with a sign, asked the young man to sit down. Rouletabille handed a sealed envelope to the princess. She simply glanced at it and said: “Yes, I know. Kasbeck warned me, but I’m waiting for him.” Rouletabille, at these words, was slightly troubled, but quickly overcoming his emotion, continued: “Doesn’t he tell you, in this letter, that if he is not there by five o’clock, you must not expect him any longer?” “Yes, yes, perfectly, sir: we agree, but it is only four o’clock!” Whereupon she began to speak to the young man of something quite different… She spoke to him especially of the battle and the defeat that the Bulgarians had just suffered in their attack on the lines of Tchataldja. She showed great joy and considered this first success as the omen of a definitive revenge. Rouletabille, who knew the friendships and opinions of his hostess, assured him that so many catastrophes would not have occurred if Abdul-Hamid had remained on the throne. “He will return!” she said. And she rose, holding out her hand with great nobility to him to kiss. “Excuse me, madam, Miss Vilitchkov did receive a letter, the one I sent her by Kasbeck?” “Certainly,” Canendé hanoum replied. “Ah! Tell me, are you staying in Constantinople much longer? ” “Ah! madam, they say the battle is over, we will leave Constantinople as soon as possible!” he replied enthusiastically . “Good… good…” The news of this departure seemed to delight the princess. She gave him a little nod from under her black veil and went out the same door, leaving him alone again with the old Turk in the turban, who went back to showering him with jam, pastries, and coffee, chattering away like a magpie. Finally, the green turban got up in turn, greeted him, and left him alone. Rouletabille looked at his watch. It was four-thirty. No doubt he found that time was ticking slowly, as he pleased, for he could not restrain a movement of impatience. He heaved a sigh, replaced the watch in his pocket, and raised his head. But he reeled with joy: Ivana was before him! An elegantly dressed Ivana, in the latest Parisian fashion, an Ivana ready to go out, with her fur coat and her toque, without feradje, without yasmack, without tchartchaf, an Ivana escaped from all Turkishness and who had nothing left of the Oriental except her large, flaming eyes, which fixed Rouletabille, under her veil. –Ah! my little Zo, my little Zo! So you have understood?… So you have understood?… What joy for me your letter! They had made such a lovely gesture to throw themselves into each other’s arms ! And then they restrained themselves, because, suddenly, it seemed to them that they had heard coughing and because they were afraid of seeing the old Turk in the green turban appear, or some horrible black ghost… Certainly they were still being watched, there were still eyes somewhere that were charged with spying on their every move. However, Rouletabille threw himself on the hands of his beloved and devoured them with kisses, and Ivana did not stop repeating: –Oh! little Zo, little Zo! Do you understand? Do you understand?… She was very pale, under the veil, and Rouletabille saw that she was fainting. She murmured: –Let’s get out of here! Oh! let’s get out of here as quickly as possible!… –We can’t get out before five o’clock, my poor darling… I I beg you, be calm until then… Come, sit here near me, we will talk quietly, we will say things that no one will hear, we are finally like two true lovers who confide in each other ; there, give me your hands… –It’s that I would like to be already so far from all this, my little Zo!… so far!… –We will leave, Ivana, a little more patience… –But why wait until five o’clock? –It’s the time fixed by Kasbeck… He sent word to Canendé hanoum that he would be there at five o’clock… –How troubled you look saying that, little Zo!… My God! Has something changed?… –No! No! Nothing! Don’t worry!… At five o’clock we will leave! –Ah! If you only knew, little Zo!… (for sometimes she spoke to him with a strange solemnity and sometimes with a delicious childishness)… if you only knew how long the days seemed to me! Long! Since I received your letter through Kasbeck… I didn’t know where you were, or why–since you said that everything was arranged,–you didn’t come to get me right away… “At first,” replied Rouletabille, “we didn’t know that you were at Canendé hanoum’s… we always thought, and right up until the last moment, Kasbeck told us that you were at Beylerbey and that you had disembarked from the Loreleï at the same time as Abdul-Hamid. ” “He lied.” The day after the arrival of the Loreleï, two women came to take me on board and brought me here where Canendé hanoum was in charge of educating me, do you understand, little Zo, in charge of making me an odalisque worthy of being presented to the former sultan!… –Oh! Ivana!… –What was terrible, you see, was that these women were not wicked at all… on the contrary, they were very kind, full of attention, taking care of me at all times, filling me with horrible perfumes and wanting to teach me to dance… It was charming and dreadful… –Ah! If I had known you were here!… we would have freed you immediately … we would have found a way, go!… but Kasbeck was lying to me!… And to think that we had spent our time watching him, following him everywhere, while you arrived here with these women, anonymous shadows all three of them… black ghosts… at Canendé hanoum’s… Vladimir certainly saw you get out of the car here, with your companions!… But how could he have suspected that it was you, under your black veils, when Kasbeck wasn’t even with you?… Anyway, it’s all over now! Let’s only think of our happiness, my little Ivana! –Kasbeck gave you all the papers in the secret drawer? All intact, weren’t they? –Yes, all of them… We had to check, you know! It took time… And then, for his part, Kasbeck wanted to take precautions with the treasures… before giving you to me… That’s understandable… That eunuch is an extraordinary trader! –They all are, little Zo!… And what trade!… She sighed again: –Ah! when are we going to leave? –Listen, Ivana, do you know what I thought?… I thought that since the battle was going to be over, as I wrote to you—there’s already talk of an armistice since the Tchataldja affair—I thought we could well leave for Paris… –Oh! yes, little Zo!… yes!… yes!… Paris!… She trembled with happiness as she spoke of Paris, the school, the faculty, the hospital, where she would find her friends and her work. –It’s in Paris that we’ll get married! said Rouletabille. –But General Stanislawoff won’t want it! He’ll insist that the ceremony take place in Sofia. “The general will do what I want!” declared the reporter. “He has nothing to refuse me! ” “Good! Good! Oh! certainly, Paris, yes… I prefer it!” she said, snuggling up to him. “You understand, we both need to forget many things.” things… We must put a little bit of the West between our happiness and the past… In France, my darling, we will find ourselves completely, yes, it seems to me that it is only in France that we will be able to love each other normally, without clashes, without adventures, after an honest marriage in an honest town hall. –You are right, you are right, little Zo!… And she pressed herself against him; she was looking for a refuge where she thought that no one else would ever come looking for her again… neither Kasbeck for his abominable business, since he was now paid and how!… nor Gaulow, nor Athanase, since those two were dead!… –My God! You are quite sure then that he is dead? –Who? Athanase?… Yes, yes, oh! he is really dead, the poor boy! –You are right to pity him, little one. He loved me very much. –Devil! If he loved you!… –He was devoted to me… –No doubt, but don’t be sad about his death, said Rouletabille, shaking his head, because obviously, if he had lived, the poor boy would have suffered a lot. –If he had suffered!… especially now that I no longer owe him anything, since it was you who killed Gaulow!… Ah! little Zo! Little Zo!… when I read what you wrote to me there… that Gaulow had not died at the hands of Athanase, over there, in that awful little square, in that terrible little village of Istrandja… and that he had been able to escape… and that it was you who had killed him at the bottom of the treasure room!… you see, little Zo, I cried and I prayed to God like when I was very little… it was so awful for me to give myself to this Athanase who always frightened me a little, whom I didn’t love, whom I never loved… And yet, I couldn’t have refused myself, little Zo: I had sworn to him, long ago, that I would be his wife the day he brought me Gaulow’s head ! and I thought he had killed Gaulow!… I had nothing left to do but die the day I believed that!… and I was determined to die… and I would certainly have killed myself at Stara-Zagora where I feared that Athanasius would come after me again, with Gaulow’s head, if the major-general had not spoken to me again about the Byzantine casket and what it contained… then I understood that my life, now sacrificed, could still be of some use … but, little Zo! how I suffered to see you suffer!… –Why didn’t you confide in me? –Neither in you, nor in anyone! I was terribly ashamed of myself!… What I had done was so horrible!… There are things that a woman like me does not admit to others because she is ashamed to admit them to herself… Could I tell you that I wished for the loss of that loyal soldier, Athanase, and the salvation of that enemy of my country, that assassin of my parents, Gaulow? … and that between the two of them I had not hesitated? And that with deceit and treachery I had lent my hands to the escape of the wretch at the moment when, seeing the Bulgarian armies appearing in the distance, I had feared the arrival of Athanasius coming to claim the price of his conquest!… Could I tell you that when Gaulow was preparing to use the means I provided for him to escape… could I tell you that our katerdjibaschi had rushed up and paid with his life for a fight with the bandit?… No! No! I kept all this shame to myself and I would never have spoken to you about it if you had not guessed it! Finally, why would I have confessed these dreadful things to you, after having believed I saw Gaulow succumb under the blows of Athanasius? Wasn’t everything over for me? Could my explanations have prevented the inevitable? Why dishonor myself in your eyes as I was, as I still am in mine? If I told you that even at this moment when I confess all this to you, I am ashamed of myself, I am ashamed, little Zo! –How you loved me! sighed Rouletabille, prostrating himself on his hands of Ivana. –And you doubted it! –Forgive me, Ivana!… Forgive me… Yes, it is I who am a wretch for not having guessed you sooner, my darling angel!… But I see well that love is such that it delights in blinding us at the moment when we most need to see clearly!… Certainly, if I had been a third party in this adventure, if I had been in the place of La Candeur for example, or of Vladimir, I would have guessed you at once… But I loved and I was jealous!… That is to say that I had become, because of this horrible jealousy, which was an insult to our love, the most stupid of men!… And it was love which thus took revenge for the fact that I had not from the outset placed you above all suspicion, in spite of the accusatory appearance of your acts or your gestures, or your appearance, or your words! I should have said to myself straight away—what I only said to myself when I received your farewell letter to Stara-Zagora: She loves me!… She loves me above all else!… Well! Let us try to explain the inexplicable with that! And immediately I would have understood, by relating everything to this love, that it was because of your love that you made yourself for a moment the accomplice of the abominable Gaulow! I would have understood what I understood in Stara-Zagora, in that night of pain and tears which followed your departure, I would have understood that since you were pursuing Gaulow, after having made him flee, and that with the intention of killing him, you did not want to hold Gaulow from Athanase’s hand!… Logical explanation and the only possible one for your conduct, Ivana, and also for that of Athanase, who was busy securing Gaulow before saving you, Ivana! So it was that you had promised yourself to him if he avenged you for Gaulow; and only on that condition!… That is what appeared to me at Stara-Zagora!… That is why, after having understood this, I was seized by boundless despair, because believing Gaulow to be dead by the hand of Athanasius, as you yourself believed , I believed our love to be dead!… So you can then guess my joy, a joy that I was unable to describe to you in my letter, when I learned that he was alive!… It was therefore possible to take him back from Athanasius, to give him back the freedom necessary so that we could then take him back ourselves and exercise a vengeance that would have finally delivered us without Athanasius having to demand the price! … So I did as you did!… The crime you had committed against Athanase by making Gaulow escape the first time, I committed it myself, a second time!… And my friends and I started again behind Gaulow, saved by my care, this pursuit until death… Unfortunately, he escaped us and it was Athanase who died!… “This is dreadful!” Ivana said, shivering. “He is dead… We must not rejoice at this death! It would bring us bad luck… Tell me clearly how he died!… ” “Hey! Ivana, I already explained it to you in my letter…” Rouletabille replied, lying here, with great composure. He fell before us in a party of Turks who riddled him with bullets… The Turks, seeing us, fled, and we arrived to confirm the death of our friend… “That is what is terrible,” said Ivana… “He certainly died running after his prisoner and it is we who are responsible for his death! ” “I do not think so!” Rouletabille continued with growing effrontery , “and I would like to reassure you completely on this point. Athanase should not have known that his prisoner had fled. He was returning to the camp when he was surprised by the Turks. That is the truth! It is completely superfluous to create useless remorse for yourself!… And then, between us, although he is your cousin, I will tell you that this Athanase does not, in truth, deserve to be mourned. He was a brave soldier, yes!… but who was thinking above all of what you had promised him!… You yourself, Ivana, your person was precious to him only as much as he could hope to claim you!
–How so, my friend?… –Oh! he would have preferred to know you dead rather than alive outside of him!… Thus, at the Karakoulé, all his actions prove that he thought less of your salvation than of himself, that is to say, of his success in bringing Gaulow to you!… Before taking care of you, he takes care of Gaulow!… He only enters the harem to strike Gaulow, to carry Gaulow away, to put Gaulow in safety… and then he comes back to save you!… afterwards… but too late because I had been there before him!… –But it’s true, little Zo, what you say is absolutely correct !… –How so! that is to say, now, when I examine her closely, I find her conduct abominable… “Certainly! She was not generous!” Ivana agreed. “Not generous! Say that this handsome gentleman was simply blackmailing you with your inconsiderate promise… ” “Oh! Zo!… Don’t speak like that of that unfortunate boy! ” “Why not, I pray you?… Did you love him?… Did you tell him that you loved him?… “That, never! ” “And he knew perfectly well that you did not love him!… “He could have suspected it…” “Suspected it?… He was perfectly sure that we both loved each other !… and that is why he was in such a hurry above all to throw that head between us!… He knew perfectly well that you were not a woman to go back on your word, and he wanted, at the price of that head, to have you in spite of yourself!” that is to say, despite your love for another!… So I will not hide my opinion from you any longer: your Athanase, he disgusts me!… This declaration seemed to produce an excellent effect on Ivana’s mind. –My God!… since we are not responsible for his death, she said, what you are telling me there, little Zo, consoles me a little for having deceived him and having taken from him a prisoner who was more precious to him than myself!… Chapter 26. THE LAST ADVENTURE OF MR. KASBECK Bravo! cried Rouletabille… then never speak to me again of Athanase?… –Neither of Athanase, nor of Gaulow, nor of Kasbeck, nor of anyone!… –Ouch! said Rouletabille… I fear that we shall speak of this Kasbeck again.
–Why? “You’ll see!” And he stood up, after placing a chaste kiss on his fiancée’s forehead . “It’s 5 o’clock,” he said very loudly. And he repeated: “It’s 5 o’clock… it’s 5 o’clock…” in a higher and higher tone. Then the tapestry rose and the eunuch he had already seen a moment ago opened the door half-open to the black ghost of Canendé Hanoum. The princess stepped forward and coldly said to Rouletabille: “I must wait for Kasbeck.” “In the letter I gave you,” Rouletabille replied in a firm voice, “it says that even if Kasbeck is not here at 5 o’clock, you must let us go! ” “That’s true,” Canendé Hanoum replied; “but the day before yesterday Kasbeck told me not to do anything definitive until I saw him again.” Besides, there is no reason why he should not come!… “Madame,” replied Rouletabille, “it may indeed be that he will come, and I believe indeed that he will come. But you are not unaware that Kasbeck took certain precautions against me: he could fear, in fact, that after having come into possession of Mademoiselle Vilitchkov, I would deliver the secret of the treasure to the government or to someone else!… And he, for a few days, as a precaution, drew on it… Everything he could already take has been brought here; I know that… Now here is what I have to tell you: I am no less prudent than Kasbeck and I could fear that after having come into possession of the treasures, Lord Kasbeck would keep Ivana. So I arranged that whatever happened—even if Kasbeck was not here today at 5 o’clock–I would be allowed to leave here with Miss Vilitchkov, who was to be brought to your house (I didn’t know she was already there). Madam, if I am not out of here in ten minutes, all is lost for you, for I have left a letter with my friends, who will take it to the government. I know that, in addition to Miss Vilitchkov and me, there will be found here the very precious things to which I referred just now and to which you certainly hold a great deal of importance, and on the origin of which I will have enlightened the government. Madam, please understand that we must be allowed to leave without a scandal, otherwise you can be sure that immediate help will come to us from outside and that all this will cause a great deal of noise. Let us go, and the disdain I have shown for all these riches is a sure guarantee that I will keep, with regard to what you have taken and what remains for you to take, the greatest secret!… Madam, you still have five minutes to think… Canendé hanoum disappeared. The young people were not to see his funereal tchartchaf again… Five minutes had not passed when the black person came to fetch them, handed them over to the cavas, who opened the street door for them and greeted them very honestly. They jumped into the carriage, which took the road to Péra at a trot. “At last!… at last!… at last!” sighed Ivana, who let her pretty head fall on Rouletabille’s shoulder. He said to her: “Kasbeck couldn’t come, because Kasbeck is dead!… ” “You say?” “Listen carefully.” After discovering the treasure chamber, I only went down to this room once with Kasbeck, and after taking great precautions to find our way back. The following nights, Kasbeck went down there alone; but I feared some accident and I had insisted that Canendé hanoum be warned that she should deliver your dear person into my hands today at five o’clock, otherwise I threatened to reveal everything!… Yesterday itself, foreseeing some fatal mishap, I had Kasbeck write this letter which I gave today to Canendé hanoum. Besides, Kasbeck understood my fears very well and had no difficulty in giving me this assurance that I dictated to him: he was convinced that I was only dependent on you!… And it’s the truth, you understand!… I didn’t keep a single piece of all those treasures!… The first bag of jewels that I had brought back, I gave it to Kasbeck the next day, to prove to him the reality of my research and my discovery! These riches do not belong to me! They belong to the crimes that accumulated them! It seemed to me that if I diverted anything from them, they would bring us bad luck!… Well , Ivana, it’s true that these treasures bring bad luck… After having brought bad luck to Abdul-Hamid and Gaulow, they have just caused the loss of Kasbeck!… Candeur and I, last night, near the pond, in the winter garden, we waited in vain for Kasbeck to return… And as he did not return, I in turn put on a diver’s suit and went down into the basin. There I found the basin closed, and the door so well closed that one would have sworn there was no door! Kasbeck had remained locked in the treasure room and must have, without knowing it, locked himself in!… You think that Abdul-Hamid must have had a locking system inside as he must have had one outside. He must have been able to lock himself in when he was in there so that no one would come and disturb him… Kasbeck certainly accidentally activated this locking system, perhaps by touching the door which turns easily on its hinges… Kasbeck did not know how to reopen this door… So that, like Gaulow, he is buried in there with his secret, among all the millions who still remain there!… But what is it, Ivana? You don’t say Nothing?… Your silence frightens me!… –I am indeed terrified, my friend, by all these deaths surrounding our happiness! By all these deaths that are necessary for our happiness! Yes, yes, little Zo, let us flee! Let us return to Paris! As long as I am here, in this city of the Arabian Nights, I will fear seeing all these shadows return! Who is to say that at the moment when I least expect it they will not appear to me at the corner of some street, on the threshold of the house where you are taking me! Who is to say that they will not extend their hand to help me get out of the carriage! –My poor little Jeanne, you are delirious! We no longer meet the shadows of those who are dead, suffocated at the bottom of the waters! –Do we know? Do we know? Let’s go!… Chapter 27. WHERE ROULETABILLE AND IVANA HAVE SOME REASON TO BELIEVE THAT THEY ARE FINALLY TOUCHING HAPPINESS From Sofia, Belgrade, and Constantinople, the battle correspondents had returned home. The great Balkan struggle was thought to be over. And it was a few days after the capture of Adrianople that the marriage of Rouletabille and Ivana Vilitchkov was celebrated in Paris. We remember the solemnity and splendor surrounding the ceremonies of this exceptional union. The leadership of L’Époque had summoned, for this great day, all that mattered in Paris, in the world of literature, politics, and the arts. Rouletabille’s friends, known and unknown, those who had been directly involved in the extraordinary adventures of his incredible life, and those he had made simply through the universal sympathy that his public actions aroused during the events that have occupied Europe and the world in recent years, had made a point of bringing their best wishes to the young couple. This means that the security service, commanded by the Prefect of Police himself, was extremely difficult. We will not return to these official hours, the smallest details of which were recorded in society diaries for eight days. The foreign colony, especially Russian and Balkan, of course, sent gifts that were not the least admired of a trousseau to the richness of which people whose names have been famous since the publication of The Mystery of the Yellow Room, The Perfume of the Lady in Black and Rouletabille at the Tsar’s had wanted to contribute. The editor of L’Époque was Rouletabille’s first witness, the second was Sainclair, who collected the reporter’s first pages. The editor of L’Époque spoke for everyone after a luncheon given in one of the palaces on the Champs-Élysées, where everyone was crushing each other, wishing the couple a little happiness and tranquility after so many sensational tribulations! Tranquility: Rouletabille and Ivana asked for nothing else, and if it had been up to them, certainly! Fewer people would have been disturbed, but, as the saying goes, one is a slave to one’s glory, and Rouletabille, on that memorable day when he would have liked to see around him only his mother, detained in America by the affairs of M. Darzac, and a few close friends like M. La Candeur, had to submit to the tyranny of his young fame. Even after lunch, the couple could not leave. The Parisian reporters’ association was offering a dinner for the newlyweds in a grand restaurant in Bellevue, and Rouletabille had too many comrades among them to shirk such a kind constraint. Only, it was agreed that at 9 o’clock at the latest, the bride and groom could slip away in the English style. A car would be waiting for them for a hike, the itinerary of which, of course, they had not given anyone. So, at 7 o’clock sharp, Rouletabille and Ivana arrived in Bellevue: they had asked permission to put on their traveling clothes and had insisted that this dinner with friends be devoid of any ceremony. However, most of the colleagues had insisted, to honor them, to wear the full gala uniform, tails and all decorations outside. “Don’t be angry,” said La Candeur, who had taken out his Agricultural Merit and who received the young couple on the threshold of the vestibule, with all the graces of a joyful butler. “Don’t be angry, they are so happy.” La Candeur offered his arm to the bride and led her into the drawing room where a magnificent table had been set. As Rouletabille was about to follow them, a loud noise of horses and carriage made him turn his head, and he could not suppress an exclamation on recognizing in the coachman, whose blue livery with braid and hat with gold cockade produced the happiest effect, Tondor, the blessed Tondor, who seemed at the height of his wishes. Hadn’t the friendly Transylvanian always dreamed of riding in a carriage and leading impetuous horses by long reins? His contempt for the car was so perfect that no one had ever been able to persuade him to learn to drive a machine that he found disgracefully ugly, that broke down, moreover , he said, too often, and that never pranced! Curiously, Rouletabille advanced to the threshold, eager to know to whom such a grandiose carriage belonged. Imagine his astonishment when he saw one get out, after the footman who was standing beside Tondor had rushed to open the door, Vladimir, Vladimir Petrovitch of Kiev!… He was about to go and shake his hand when he saw that Vladimir was holding his out to a tall, gangly old lady with flame-colored hair whom he remembered perfectly having seen in the tragicomic circumstances that had inaugurated the series of his adventures in Sofia. It was quite simply the princess with the famous furs who was advancing arm in arm with the triumphant Vladimir. “Rouletabille!” cried Vladimir, proudly showing him this old monkey covered in jewels, “allow me to present my fiancée to you!” Rouletabille pinched his lips to keep from laughing and warmly congratulated the future spouses. All the same, when the princess had made her entrance into the gala room, he held Vladimir back, intending to share his dismay with her, but the young Slav did not let him speak: “That’s all I could think of to save our honor!” he said in all seriousness : “marry this old cockatoo! But what wouldn’t I do, Rouletabille, to do you a favor! “What?… what?… Eh! Vladimir Petrovitch of Kiev!… is it to do me a favor that you are marrying the old lady?” “Why, perfectly! And to save our honor!” –Say, please: try to be polite and don’t worry about my honor … what does my honor have to do with your marriage, can you tell me? –Right away: the old lady came to demand her 43,000 francs!… –Huh?… –Hey! You know very well… the 43,000 francs for the fur!… –Yes, I remember now… but, as for me, that story doesn’t concern me !… It wasn’t me who took her fur to the nail!… –Yes, but it was you who gave the money to the agha. “Possible!… but I took that money from La Candeur… I didn’t take it from the princess, me!…” “So, when she came to ask me for it, I first spoke to La Candeur, who said to me: “I forbid you to speak to Rouletabille about it, who has other things to do than look after your old goat… If she insists,” he added, ” well!… so that she leaves us alone, marry her!” “But that’s very good,” Rouletabille finally agreed. “So you don’t despise me?” “Not in the least…” “You understand, Rouletabille, how hard it would be for me to be despised by you, when it is for you that I am, in short, sacrificing my youth and my beauty… –You are a nice fellow, Vladimir Petrovitch… Is the princess still very rich?… –Ah! sir!… she will recognize me for a million, before a notary… –Blimey! a million!… –Not a penny less; as I told her: take it or leave it… –You are right, Vladimir. With a million, one does not live off anyone and you will be able to pay the princess for a fur. –I had thought of it, sir… that way she will have nothing more to say!… –How old is she?… asked Rouletabille, a little embarrassed. –Ah! Guess, and see… –Well! But around fifty-five, replied Rouletabille, who wanted to be pleasant. –You are not there, said the other, you are not there at all!… Damn! Fifty-five! How you go!… If she were fifty-five , I would certainly have hesitated before devoting myself! … proclaimed Vladimir. –So, she’s not over fifty? –Less and less… Rouletabille… you’re less and less!… she’s sixty-two!… admitted the other with jubilation… Ah! I wanted to see the birth certificate… Sixty-two… that’s admirable! –And perhaps a heart condition! added Rouletabille, who had finally understood Vladimir and who, a little disgusted, was only asking to change the subject. And he was about to escape when Vladimir called him back: –Listen, Rouletabille… I have a proposition to make to you… In a year, two at the most… the old lady will no longer exist… –Blimey!… exclaimed Rouletabille, you’re not going to assassinate her! –Do you think so? No, it was the doctor who told her in front of me, one evening when she had drunk a little too much vodka… –Ah! she’s… –If only that were all!… but she smokes! She smokes! –Cigarettes!… It doesn’t matter!… –No, the pipe!… –The pipe!… –The opium pipe!… And how!… –Yes, she won’t be long… –Well! she’s made me her heir… and I’ve decided to start a newspaper… Will you be my second? Rouletabille didn’t reply, but Vladimir saw that he was looking at him with a certain eye… with an eye that was certainly aimed at the seat of his pants, and, prudently, remembering a certain gesture that had humiliated him a little, and not wanting Tondor, in all his splendor, to have to blush for him again, he moved away very quietly, backwards… –What a guy! smiled Rouletabille. And he went to join Ivana who was waiting for him impatiently. Chapter 28. WHERE CANDOR FINDS THAT THE EARTH IS SMALL The dinner was most cheerful. Rouletabille, very much in love, nevertheless seemed rather melancholic, throwing a glance from time to time at Ivana who, for her part, was checking the time without seeming to by the large clock on the mantelpiece… When their eyes met, they smiled gently, they understood each other: what happiness to be alone just now!… in this car which would take them far from everyone and everything, far from these memories still too burning that La Candeur, with his rather rough good humor, bravely evoked, unable to imagine that he was making his friends suffer when he pronounced the names of Gaulow, of Athanase… However, La Candeur and Vladimir did not stop… They sent stories back and forth from one end of the table to the other… Do you remember?… Do you remember?… And in the dungeon?… And when we had nothing left to eat?… When poor Modeste thought of making a salad with nasturtiums!… –We was so hungry, cried La Candeur, that they would have eaten the staircase, under the pretext that it was spiral! … Finally the meal ended. There were a few speeches and they moved on to another room where coffee and liqueurs were to be served. Rouletabille had joined Ivana. “Just a little more patience,” he said, “and in ten minutes I swear we’ll be off in the English style. I’ll see if the car is there.” He left her and, making a sign to La Candeur, slipped into the vestibule. They had not taken two steps when they bumped into a personage whose sight made them utter a dull exclamation. There, in front of them, bending in a most correct attitude, in his Swiss hotel suit and cap in hand, they recognized Mr. Priski! Both remained as if stunned by this strange apparition. What was Mr. Priski doing in this Bellevue hotel? By what scarcely believable chance did the former majordomo of the Karakoulé happen to be so ready to greet Rouletabille on a day like this? Mr. Priski’s presence reminded them both of such difficult times that they could not look at him without an emotion that bordered on anguish, not to mention that each time Mr. Priski had appeared to them, the event had not brought them luck. He was like the messenger of fate, like a gloomy messenger, despite his kind words and his eternal smile, a harbinger of catastrophes. Rouletabille had turned very pale, and it was La Candeur who first regained his composure to ask Mr. Priski what he was doing there and what he wanted from them. “What do I want?” replied Mr. Priski, with his most gracious expression, “what do I want? But to present my respects and my wishes for happiness, my dear Mr. Rouletabille! And believe me, I regret not having been able to go to the ceremony this morning, but the boss had sent me on an errand in the neighborhood; I’m just getting back and I see that I did well to hurry since you’re about to leave! The car is here, Monsieur Rouletabille… The driver is filling up with gas and told me it would be ready in ten minutes… “Pardon!” Rouletabille said in a still troubled voice, “pardon, Monsieur Priski, but are you no longer a monk on Mount Athos?” “Alas! alas! I never was, yes, it is a happiness that has been denied me. And I will admit to you that I have hardly been happy since you left me so abruptly at Dedeagatch… First of all, I couldn’t find my horse and as they refused to let me board the railway, you can see from here all the difficulties I had to overcome before arriving in Salonika. When I arrived there, I learned that Lord Kasbeck had embarked for Constantinople with the deposed sultan. As I could not enter the convent without the sum he had promised to pay me, I waited for the opportunity to join him in Constantinople, an opportunity that only presented itself three weeks later through the agency of a Dardanelles pilot who was a friend of mine and who had just been hired by the commander of an Austro-Hungarian stationary force, which was leaving Salonika for the Bosphorus. “All this does not explain to us,” Rouletabille said impatiently, “how you came to be in Paris?” “Sir, it’s quite simple. In Constantinople, I was unable to find Lord Kasbeck. He had indeed been seen there, but he had suddenly disappeared without anyone being able to say how or where… ” “So?” “So I tried to place myself in Constantinople, but in vain.” “Obviously!” concluded La Candeur immediately, who was watching Rouletabille’s anguish with pain. “Obviously there is nothing to be done in this country at this moment… Mr. Priski has realized this and Mr. Priski has come to Paris to find a job!” “Quite simply!” said Mr. Priski. “All this is quite natural!” added La Candeur, turning towards Rouletabille , “and you are wrong to get into such a state, but, my God! how small the world is!… And you are happy with your new position, Mr. Priski? ” “But not unhappy, Mr. de Rothschild… not unhappy at all…” Obviously, it’s not the same kind of thing as at the Hôtel des Étrangers… but there’s still work to be done, you know. Speaking of the Hôtel des Étrangers, do you know who I saw again in Constantinople? “No, but we don’t care,” said La Candeur, dragging Rouletabille along. But the other threw at them: “I saw Kara-Selim again!” Rouletabille and La Candeur stopped as if struck by lightning… La Candeur finally turned his head and said: “Did you see Gaulow again?… you?… you’re joking!…” Infinitely flattered to be addressed informally by M. de Rothschild, M. Priski stepped forward, his face beaming: “I saw Kara-Selim again, as I see you, sir!… and very well indeed!… Ah! This time you’re not going to tell me again that you saw him dead!” Besides, he didn’t hide from me that it was you who snatched him from the hands of the cruel Athanase Khetew and I must say that he was still quite surprised!… –You couldn’t have seen Kara-Selim in Constantinople, said Rouletabille, paler than ever, if you only left Salonika three weeks after Kasbeck’s departure, that is to say if you only arrived in Constantinople when we had left… –Eh! Sir, I saw it so clearly that he wanted to take me back into his service… he was quite embarrassed at the time, finding himself separated from all his servants… He had only found Stefo the Dalmatian in Constantinople, almost healed of his wounds, and that was soon to be his downfall… and, by Jove, in a rather dark adventure that I managed to get told about and which completely dissuaded me from returning to his service … It was a question of certain research to be carried out under the Bosphorus… in the greatest secrecy… It was also a question of putting on a very ugly apparatus that seemed formidable to me and that Kara-Selim had just received from London… a kind of diving suit… you can see from here what job I was being offered. You don’t need to be afraid, Kara-Selim told me; I will always go underwater with you… I even forbid you to go there without me; It was because he wanted to go for a walk without me under the Bosphorus that Stefo the Dalmatian died and was never seen again… Mr. Priski said no more, for he noticed that Rouletabille had become as pale as wax and he thought the young man was going to be unwell!… “Quick! A carafe of water!” ordered La Candeur. Mr. Priski ran away. “Get a grip,” said La Candeur, “you’re as pale as death. If your wife sees you like that, she’ll be frightened… ” “Gaulow is still alive!” Rouletabille whispered. “But I think Priski wanted to tell us a story to make us laugh… He’s often a joker, that fellow!” ” No! No!” He’s telling the truth… all the details are precise!… And then, how would he know about Gaulow’s escape if Gaulow hadn’t told him about it himself?… –That’s true, but then you didn’t kill him?… –I killed a man who was in a diving suit and I thought it was Gaulow because we had seen Gaulow go down in a diving suit a few moments before! Another man had doubtless gone down before him, whom we hadn’t seen and who was perhaps going to watch himself while we watched him! It’s this other man I would have met… –Stefo the Dalmatian!… said La Candeur. –No doubt Stefo the Dalmatian… you heard what Priski said!… All this is dreadful! Especially since Ivana doesn’t know anything… At that moment, everyone was calling for Rouletabille, they came to get him and went into the living room. Ivana immediately noticed the pitiful state he was in. Candour quickly said to his friend: Above all, you, calm down! After all, what does it matter to you now, Gaulow? Because he married, Karakoule style… –Shut up!… –Hey! A marriage under those conditions, old man, doesn’t count!… especially a Muslim wedding!… “What is it?” asked Ivana, immediately worried. “But nothing, my darling,” murmured Rouletabille… “it was so hot in this room… I admire that you are braver than me. ” “All these young people are so kind. They love you like a brother, little Zo.” “I like them too, go on… but what is it?” asked the reporter, seeing a group heading towards a table in a rather mysterious attitude… Ever since he had seen Mr. Priski and heard him, everything was an occasion for a new excitement for him… At the back of the room, there were about ten young people who seemed to be carrying something and the rumor was spreading from mouth to mouth: A surprise!… A surprise!… “What surprise?” Rouletabille didn’t much like surprises… And he was about to realize what was happening, followed by Ivana, when La Candeur ran up, raising his arms: “That’s amazing!” he cried, “the Byzantine casket!” ” The Byzantine casket!” cried Ivana… “Is it really possible?” And she clapped her hands joyfully: “Oh! yes, it’s a surprise!… a good surprise!” Did you do it to me, little Zo?… “No!” replied Rouletabille… whose life seemed suspended again, “no, Ivana, it wasn’t me who gave you that surprise…” And he advanced courageously, taming the fear that was already galloping within him, without his being able to quite understand the cause; but he felt a catastrophe approaching… Candeur noticed this disturbance. “Don’t be frightened,” he said to her, “it must be Father Priski who wanted to give you his wedding present… You remember that we left the casket at Kirk-Kilissé at the moment of our sudden departure!… There ‘s nothing to be frightened about… I opened the casket… it’s full of flowers… ” “Ah!” murmured Rouletabille, who was beginning to breathe again… “yes, it must be Priski… am I stupid?…” “Sure!” said La Candeur… Come, madame, continued La Candeur, leading Ivana away… it is an unknown friend who has sent you flowers in the Byzantine casket, and they are magnificent, these flowers!… The three of them advanced and found themselves in front of the casket, which had been placed on a table. The lid was lifted, and the magnificent white roses from which it overflowed were already filling the entire room with perfume. “What a lot there are!” said La Candeur… “what a lot there are!” ” And they are beautiful!” said Ivana, taking them by the handful and plunging her beautiful arms into the fragrant harvest… “Here!” she said suddenly, “I smell something? What is there ?” And she quickly withdrew her hand. “What?” asked Rouletabille, “what?” But La Candeur had already put his hand into the box and was taking out a superb and very rich bag, such as one sees at the great confectioners at Christmas and other holidays… “Candy!” he threw… “Poissier’s candy!” He was about to untie the strings of the bag himself, when Ivana demanded it. He
gave it to her and she plunged a hand into it, which she immediately withdrew with a horrible cry… Clamors of horror then resounded through the room… A hair was tangled in Ivana’s fingers… and she shook it without being able to get it out!… And the hair came out of the bag whole with the head!… a hideous, bloody head, with a neck in tatters, with glassy eyes wide open to universal terror … “Gaulow’s head!” screamed La Candeur. “Gaulow’s head!” sighed Vladimir… “Gaulow’s head!” Rouletabille groaned… –Gaulow’s head! repeated Ivana’s failing voice… And they rolled into the arms of their closest friends… while the women, uttering senseless cries, fled… Chapter 29. THE JOYS OF THE WEDDING INTERRUPTED In the concierge’s lodgings, La Candeur and Vladimir, having recovered somewhat from their terrible shock, were subjecting Mr. Priski and the bellhop to a serious interrogation. Rouletabille had remained near Ivana, who had lost her senses. Mr. Priski, still under the influence of the furious jostling that La Candeur had inflicted on him and quite astonished to have emerged alive from her terrible grip, was trying as hard as possible, with his answers, not to unleash the anger of the good giant again. And he told all he knew. It was he, in fact, who had brought back from Kirk-Kilissé the Byzantine casket abandoned in the kiosk by Rouletabille and Ivana in the hubbub of their rapid departure for Stara-Zagora, where General Stanislawoff was waiting for them. Having become first concierge at the Hôtel de Bellevue, Mr. Priski had used this precious trunk as a private chest in which he locked away the objects entrusted to him by travelers, and more than one who had entered his lodgings had admired the old work and the curious paintings of the famous Byzantine casket; more than one had also wanted to buy it from him, but no one had yet paid the price until this very day, precisely when Mr. Priski had sold it. This sale had taken place under rather special conditions and while Mr. Priski was not there, through the intermediary of the bellboy who replaced Mr. Priski, sent on an errand by his boss. The bellboy had seen two well-dressed individuals arrive in a car around two o’clock in the afternoon, who had immediately inquired about the dinner offered by the reporters to Joseph Rouletabille. The bellboy had given them all the details they had asked about the time, the service , and had even shown them the rooms where the little party was to take place. It was on leaving, and just as they were getting ready to leave , that the two travelers had gone into the concierge’s lodgings to have their clothes brushed, and there they had noticed the Byzantine casket. They had shown great astonishment at finding this object there, and the bellboy began to explain to them that it was a Bulgarian casket brought back from Sofia by the concierge, who was a man from there. They had immediately asked to buy it. The bellboy had replied that the concierge wanted 500 francs for it. “Here they are!” said one of the two men, “but I want it right away, it’s precisely to surprise our friend Rouletabille.” At that, the bellboy, who knew where Mr. Priski had been sent, had telephoned him, and Mr. Priski had replied that the casket could be taken away immediately if the 500 francs were paid immediately! The interrogations of Mr. Priski and the bellboy complemented each other so well that La Candeur and Vladimir had no doubt about their story. “It’s a pity,” Vladimir said, “that Mr. Priski wasn’t there, otherwise he could have told us what those men’s noses were like! I remember Athanase’s nose very well, myself! ” “Athanase!” cried La Candeur. “You’re a mentally ill person, Vladimir! I killed Athanase with my own hand, and I don’t think he’ll ever come back to life!” ” Uh!” Vladimir said, “I didn’t see him dead!” and all this smells so much of Athanase!… who would have had the delicacy, if Athanase is really no longer of this world, to send us Gaulow’s head for dessert, Gaulow’s head which was to be the price of Athanase’s marriage with Ivana Vilitchkov? … The two reporters were now aware of the conditions of Rouletabille’s marriage, and he had had the opportunity to explain to them, from Constantinople, what had always remained a little obscure for them… They now knew why Athanase had pursued Gaulow so much and why Gaulow had been released by Rouletabille… Also Vladimir was much less calm than La Candeur, because he had not seen Athanase dead!… He insisted that the groom give him a very clear description of the two travelers, but alas! this description remained vague and it was difficult to conclude anything from it. The groom had taken the visitors for journalists, friends of the groom. One thing , however, had intrigued him: these two men, one of whom seemed very agitated, quite often expressed regret at having experienced a delay of a few hours during the journey, due to a breakdown they were talking about furiously! They seemed to regret above all not having arrived before the wedding! “You see!” said Vladimir, leading La Candeur away… “You see!… There’s no doubt about it!… We’re dealing with Athanase!… Athanase wanted to arrive with the head, before the wedding, to prevent the marriage! “Ah! You’re making me sick with your Athanase!” replied La Candeur, who was holding on to her dead body. But Rouletabille, whose distraught face was painful to look at, arrived at this moment. He had torn himself from Ivana’s arms to come and question Priski. The two reporters repeated to Rouletabille everything they knew. And Rouletabille agreed with Vladimir: they were dealing with Athanase! It was completely pointless to waste time. Athanase had arrived late, but he had delivered Gaulow’s head all the same! … And now, what was he planning for them?… They had to flee! Flee without losing a second! Ivana, having brutally freed herself from the women who were overwhelming her with their attentions, came running in turn. But Rouletabille had signaled to the two reporters and they both protested when the young woman dropped Athanase’s name. Athanase was dead!… truly dead! Unfortunately, at this critical moment, La Candeur, to finally reassure Madame Rouletabille, made the mistake of adding: “I know better than anyone, come on, madame!… It was I who killed him!” Ivana looked at La Candeur like a madwoman and then, without saying anything, pressed herself , shivering, against Rouletabille, who would have gladly slapped La Candeur if he had had the time; but he judged that it was more urgent to take Ivana in his arms and carry her into the car, which started off immediately, greeted by the obsequious gestures of Mr. Priski and by the protestations of devotion of La Candeur and Vladimir! She left at full speed, in the night, for an unknown country, where the young married couple hoped not to meet Athanase. In the meantime, his shadow pursued them and they thought only of him. Chapter 30. WEDDING NIGHT ON THE CÔTE D’AZUR In the car that was carrying them away, Ivana expressed her terror in broken, breathless sentences, filled with remorse for a crime committed by La Candeur, that is to say, by them, that is to say, by her! Rouletabille had lied to her: it wasn’t the Turks who had killed Athanase, but them, them, his friends, his brothers, she, her sister-in-arms… It was in vain that little Zo explained to her that Athanase had started by striking and that La Candeur had had to defend herself… She invariably replied that it was them, them, Rouletabille and she, Ivana, who, through La Candeur’s arm, had murdered Athanase! Such infamy would bring them misfortune… and their marriage was certainly cursed since the revenge of the dead man was beginning, and two friends of Athanase had, quite obviously, taken care of it… And her teeth chattered when she saw the head again… the horrible head that she had taken out of the Byzantine casket! Rouletabille cuddled her, tried to warm her, to soften her, hoped for tears that might perhaps relieve her, and exhausted all the resources of his dialectic in demolishing the monument of terror that Ivana was erecting on the threshold of their happiness… For him, he dared to affirm with incomparable audacity, this head had been sent by a friend of the Vilitchkof family who knew with what joy, on the day of her wedding, Ivana would learn that her unfortunate parents had been avenged… These were fairly ordinary gifts given in Bulgaria… –And I, she replied, without ceasing that dreadful nervous trembling that had seized her at the sight of Gaulow, and I tell you that it is Athanase who is pursuing us beyond the grave… Unless, unless again, Athanase is not dead!… –You heard La Candeur, Ivana… Tondor accompanied her… They both saw his corpse riddled with bullets… –Ridden with bullets! It’s dreadful!… and then they say that!… they believe it!… Bullets! But this battle saw bodies pierced by fifty bullets and believed to be dead fifty times and who live!… who live! Athanase is not dead!… and he will come to claim me! … But you ‘ll keep me, tell me, little Zo?… you’ll keep me!… She burst into tears, while her nervous arms embraced the poor young man whose face was flooded with her tears. This calmed her, perhaps saved her from madness, at the very moment when the car stopped at the Gare de Lyon. “But where are we going?” she asked through her tears. “To a place where we will be all alone, all alone. ” “Oh! yes, yes!…” “While they think we’re speeding on all the roads of France, we will be locked in a paradise… Will you, Ivana?… ” “Oh! yes, yes!…” She threw herself out of the car. The driver and the car had to continue running, running along the roads… while the two young people were on the train that would take them down the next day to Menton. They had jumped on a rapid at random, in which they could only find two first-class seats: all the sleeping berths, all the armchair beds had been reserved in advance. But they were happy to be in the anonymous crowd, among brave travelers who looked at them without hostility. And soon Ivana, exhausted, had fallen asleep on her young husband’s shoulder. Rouletabille was driving Ivana near Menton, on the enchanted coast of Garavan, to the gardens where, in the time of the Lady in Black, the mysterious guests of Prince Galich had inhabited. There was a villa there amidst hanging gardens, flower-filled terraces, a villa with fragrant balconies that the prince, with whom Rouletabille had made peace since his trip to Russia, had placed at the disposal of the new couple. He had given the keys to Rouletabille in Paris, a few days before the wedding. “You will feel at home there,” he had told him, “and better than anywhere else, for you will not encounter any intruders. The servants, good local people, sleep outside the property in my absence and only come at 9 o’clock in the morning and will leave at a sign from you. It is paradise for Adam and Eve. Do not refuse it.” Rouletabille had accepted, having already been able to appreciate in another time the splendor of this garden of the Hesperides on the Azure coast, a few steps from the Italian border and the castle of Hercules! A land that evoked so many memories for him!… a land where he had known his mother and where today he was going to love his young wife… A radiant sun lit up the gardens of Babylon when the young people entered. They immediately met the gardener, whom they sent away; the latter, who had been warned, disappeared. And they strolled the rest of the day in this enchantment and in this marvelous solitude which they filled with kisses. Prince Galich had everything prepared for their arrival and they had only to open the cupboards to find the elements of a dinner that carried them until nightfall. And then, it was night, a night of magical moonlight that captivated Rouletabille. He took Ivana gently by the waist and wanted to lead her into the moonbeams… –Come! Come and walk with us in the moonbeams!… But if the garden had not frightened the young girl during the brightness of the day, she shrank back from it as soon as she saw it bathed in the cold light of the night star. She looked away from the strange gestures of the trees, as from so many ghosts, and all her terrors returned. “Close the door… close all the doors… and all the windows… and everything! everything!… so that he doesn’t come back!” she told him. He scolded her, reminding her that she had promised to be reasonable and not to think about him anymore: “He won’t come back if you don’t think about him!” She didn’t answer him and went to take refuge in the back of a large room on the first floor, where she lit all the lights, which reassured her a little. When he joined her, he found her surrounded by torches. “What an illumination!” he said, smiling… “Have you really locked everything up?” ” Yes, my poor darling, but what are you afraid of? I swear to you that we will have nothing to fear, ever, as long as we love each other!” And he kissed her more tenderly than he had ever done before. Then she blushed, and slipping, trembling, between his hands, she went to hide this blush in a room where there was less light. Now, as he was looking for her shadow in the darkness, he heard a hoarse moan and suddenly saw her standing against a window, with a face of indescribable terror, under the moonlight. “Ivana!…” “There!… There!…” she whispered to him; “him!… him!… And she left the window in terror. He ran there in his turn and saw only a large clearing, in the center of which there was a stone bench. “But there is nothing, Ivana!” Nothing but the stone bench… Come quickly, I beg you… Come with me to see the stone bench… She chattered her teeth: “I tell you I saw him; I recognized him clearly… He was looking towards the room where I lit so many torches!… I tell you it’s him!… him or his ghost!… She agreed to slip back to the window, leaning on his arm. She hoped, like him, that she had been the victim of a hallucination… and she looked again?… and she saw nothing… but the stone bench. “You see, my darling, you see that there is nothing… ” “He has gone… but perhaps he will return… ” “It is you, Ivana, who brings him back into your sick thoughts… ” “After all,” she said, “it is quite possible, but I do not want to remain in the dark…” She was trembling so much that he brought her back into the room with the lights, and as he wanted to close her mouth with kisses, she gently moved him aside to speak to him about Athanase… He was dismayed… She told him that she did not fear ghosts, but that Athanase must be feared alive! “What would you do, little Zo, if he came back here, alive? If he really came to the stone bench?… ” “I will go and ask him what he wants from us!” replied Rouletabille. Moved by a sinister presentiment, she returned to the window of the dark room from which the stone bench could be seen and looked out into the moonlight. But she uttered the cry of a moment ago again!… “Him! him!… come! come!… it’s him!…” He sprang up beside her and they both embraced, clinging to each other … both saw him, recognized him: Athanase sitting on the stone bench in a stony immobility! The sweat trickled in icy drops down their foreheads haunted by madness. “It’s a hallucination!” murmured Rouletabille… “he’s not moving… do you see him moving?… it has nothing to do with a man… it’s an image of our brain… Ivana! We’re too afraid… always the same fear… and we have the same hallucination… ” “Look!” she said, in a dreamy voice, he raised his head… –Yes, yes, I saw him!… Ah! It’s him! It’s him… “You see it’s him!” Rouletabille, sure he was no longer dealing with a terrible nightmare, had pulled himself together. He went to get the revolver that, unknown to Ivana, he had slipped into a drawer and cocked it. “What are you going to do?” she asked him, already impressed by his resolve and almost as resolute as he was. “I told you: go ask him what he wants from us! ” “I’ll come down with you!” “If you like, my darling… Just as well, it’s best not to leave us again, whatever happens… ” “Never!” she said, and, as brave as he was, she took his hand. They went down the stairs, gently, slowly, pushed the bolts of the door that was just opposite the clearing with the stone bench, and with a single gesture, they both opened it. Chapter 31. LAST CHAPTER WHERE IT IS PROVEN THAT ONE AND ONE MAKE ONE! There was no one left on the stone bench… Then Rouletabille called out loudly in the night: “Athanase!” And Ivana called out: “Athan…” but her voice broke. Nothing answered them but a distant echo; but they wanted to be strong, and still holding hands, they advanced to the stone bench, they walked around it, they listened for a moment to the rustling of the leaves and branches, then Rouletabille said: “It’s the wind!” Ivana repeated more quietly: “It’s the wind!” and they went back into the villa, turning their heads at every step to see what was happening behind them, but nothing happened except a slight shiver of wind!… The door closed, they returned to the rooms on the first floor, returned to the window and again had the cry of their fear!… Athanase had returned to the stone bench! Then Ivana gave way completely to a galloping terror… She screamed, like a madwoman, like a real madwoman. “Let’s run away! Let’s run away! Let’s not stay here!”… And Rouletabille found this cry of madness quite wise. The best thing was to leave, certainly!… Whether this Athanase was a truly living person or the shadow of their delirious imagination, they had to go, go!… “Yes, yes… yes, let’s go!” “Right away!… “Right away!… We’ll go to the hotel… the first hotel we come across… ” “Yes, yes,” she said… “a hotel with travelers, travelers who will defend us… against him… against Athanase!… Ah! It was written that he would always pursue me!… because I had said that about that head!… Since childhood he has pursued me, he will drag me down with him into the earth! ” “No, you can be sure he won’t,” Rouletabille said fiercely. “He’s a wretch and I will have no pity on him!… Come on!… come on!…” They reopened the door… with infinite precautions… but they found themselves facing the stone bench without Athanase! They walked to the stone bench, but they no longer called Athanase, the echo of their voices in the night doubtless frightening them too much… They took the path that led, downhill, from terrace to terrace, to the door opening onto Boulevard Maritime. Now they were going faster… they were running almost holding hands… They were running quite fast when they saw the door… they thought they had already reached it when Ivana gave a great cry. Her forehead had just struck something that was swinging. And both of them, Rouletabille and Ivana, recoiled with an exclamation of horror. The thing that was swinging was Athanase hanged! Athanase, whose terrifying face was sticking out his tongue in the moonlight!… They retraced their steps, running, running, running… and they only stopped at the stone bench on which they let themselves fall… –We are not mentally ill people!… Rouletabille finally said, we are not mentally ill people to run like that… There is no doubt about it… We both saw Athanase on this stone bench… which he left to go and hang himself… There’s no reason to escape like this… This man decided he had tortured you enough, my Ivana! He punished himself! May God forgive him!… “Is there another door to leave the property?” asked Ivana. “Yes,” replied Rouletabille, who knew the grounds very well; “yes, there is another one on the Boulevard de Garavan side. ” “Well, let’s go by that door!” replied Ivana, getting up … “You think we’re not going to spend the night here, with this hanged man! ” “Let’s go!” said Rouletabille… And, taking each other’s hand, they went off by an opposite path leading to the other side of the property, to the Boulevard de Garavan gate. And as they were about to reach that other door, they both stepped back again before the formidable thing and Ivana fell to her knees, truly screaming like a beast… like a beast… Athanase was still hanging from that door! … Rouletabille, whose brain, however solid it was, was really beginning to move, saw nothing but Ivana on her knees, in the grip of madness. He seized her, carried her away, still screaming… far from the second corpse of Athanase, far from all those doors where Athanase had hung his corpses!… And he locked her in the villa, in a room of the villa where he barricaded himself against the terror outside, pulling the furniture against the exits, and drawing the curtains on the abominable garden… And he spent his night caring for her… Finally, she ended up falling asleep… and he too fell asleep… abandoning himself, exhausted, weary of struggling, to the mysterious arms of death which rose up against them, so that they would not escape from her… so many corpses for a single man!… When Rouletabille awoke, he went to open the curtains… The gardens of Babylon shone under a burning sun. There was no more mystery around them… nothing but life and beauty … Ivana soon woke up, too, in the marvelous clarity of day. And they tried to remember the nightmares that had thrown them to the depths of that room, like hunted beasts… They remembered and, laughing at themselves, they decided, a little pale, to leave that magical villa. And they left it at once… And they were not very proud when they arrived at the gate of the Boulevard Maritime, where they had first seen the corpse of Athanase… But they regained a little of their composure… when they realized that this corpse was not there. “Listen, my darling,” said Ivana… “What I’m going to tell you is stupid… But I’ll only be at peace if I know that Athanase’s second corpse doesn’t exist either… ” He yielded to this prayer, which he found quite natural and which, moreover , responded to his own concerns… They didn’t see a corpse any more at the Garavan gate than at the one on the Boulevard Maritime… “Phew!” said Ivana… “Phew!” said Rouletabille… “All the same,” said Ivana, “rent a car… I want to leave this country at once… When night comes back, I’ll start being too scared again…” He drove her to the Hôtel des Anglais and was leaving her to look after a car, when he just happened to see a magnificent forty-horsepower car stop in front of him, and from it got out… La Candeur!… “What are you doing here?” La Candeur said: “Get in… I must talk to you.” And when he was in the car: “My old man, this car is for you. Go quickly wherever you want with your wife, but don’t stay here and stop her from reading the newspapers for a while ; that way she won’t suspect anything.” Rouletabille looked at him, not understanding. ” But how are you here?… What do you mean?… She won’t suspect what?” La Candeur, who seemed rather annoyed, quickly narrated: “When you left Bellevue, I followed you in the car. I thought Athanase had survived his wounds and was around you, watching for you… and I wasn’t mistaken!… ” “Huh?” exclaimed Rouletabille… leaping onto the cushions of the car. “Yes, he was after you! ” “So, it’s true he’s not dead?” ” Yes!… now he’s dead!” “But you say he was after us!” “He wasn’t dead, of course, when he was after you!… but now he’s dead… he killed himself last night!” “Ah!” groaned Rouletabille… last night?… “Yes, in the gardens of Babylon. He hanged himself!…” “Good heavens!” And Rouletabille opened his formidable eyes… So, two corpses for one man, that wasn’t just a figment of the imagination!” , he thought, or hardly dared to think, but he thought all the same, since he couldn’t think otherwise!… He had seen them!… touched them!… So?… Good heavens!… He collapsed, head in his hands, haggard: — Explain! he said in a hoarse voice to La Candeur… I, for the first time, am giving up!… –You are giving up what? asked La Candeur, who understood nothing of Rouletabille’s tragic expressions… — Speak!… tell!… hurry up!… I feel like I’m dying!… — You’re welcome!… Listen; so I followed you. On the platforms of the Gare de Lyon I found our man straight away… But he was late to catch your train and was jumping on the next express train that left ten minutes later. Can you imagine if I let him go!… I got on the train too… He must have known where you were going, been informed about your destination, because he was quite quiet. Ah! I was watching him! He wasn’t a pretty sight! He must have been up to some dirty trick… I didn’t let him go! And then, just as I arrived in Menton, I lost him!… There was a stampede in the underground passage of the landing stage… When I arrived at the end of the corridor, on the square… no more Athanase!… I asked some coachmen if they had seen him… I gave them his description… I couldn’t find out anything… Then the idea came to me that you must both have gone less unnoticed. And that’s how I learned from a coachman that you had been taken to the garden of Babylon in Garavan!… I didn’t need to know any more … And I watched over you without you suspecting, all afternoon, all evening… I was happy. No Athanase!… I really hoped he had lost your trail… I didn’t want to disturb you… bore you… I said to myself: Tomorrow, I’ll warn Rouletabille and they’ll clear off! … Then night came… Oh! I was watching over you! Like a guard dog!… and then, you know, ready to bite!… I entered the garden through Garavan’s little door, which I only had to push… The beginning of the night went well. I was going around the property and, old man, if Athanase had fallen into my hands!… Suddenly , old man, imagine I met him!… But, you know, I no longer needed to make him lose his taste for bread!… Listen, Rouletabille, I’m not asking you if I’m giving you pleasure… In any case, we have nothing to do with it! Not?… Well, but don’t feel bad!… You’re there looking at me with eyes!… You’ve nothing more to fear from Athanase, old man!… Probably your marriage has turned on him !… He hanged himself last night in the gardens of the villa!… Ah! word, it’s as I have the honor to tell you… You can imagine the shock it gave me when I found him sticking his tongue out… right in front of the door that opens onto Boulevard Maritime!… Well, old man, you know, I didn’t feel sorry for him, no!… and, straight away, I only thought of you… I know that you had gone through that door… I
said to myself: I don’t want them to meet a hanged man—and that hanged man! —the day after their wedding night! Mrs. Rouletabille would be in a position to get sick from it!… And so, old man, well, there you go! I went to warn the mayor, I told him what was going on and I asked him to have the report drawn up quietly and to have the body removed so that you wouldn’t notice anything!… When the mayor found out that it was Rouletabille, he did everything I wanted!… He told me that he would arrange with the prosecutor so that no one would come and disturb your first wedding morning… Only, now, get out of here!… Tonight, the newspapers will tell the story… The magistrates will certainly want to question you when they find out that you spent the night in the villa… And, at this moment, your wife is very impressionable… Rouletabille listened to La Candeur… listened to her… listened to her… So, really, the abominable nightmare… the hanged man… they hadn’t dreamed it… –La Candeur!… La Candeur!… –Rouletabille! –I saw him too, the hanged man!… –No!… –Yes!… And Ivana also saw him at the gate of the Boulevard Maritime… and we were less brave than you!… We ran away!… –Hey, old man! I understand that!… he wasn’t very cheerful, you know!… –We ran away… La Candeur… and we went to throw ourselves on a bench, and when we had regained some strength, we wanted to flee the villa by the Garavan gate… Here, Rouletabille hesitated, then suddenly, in a broken voice, he launched his sentence: –But how is it that there again we found Athanase hanged? Candeur, at these words, became a little troubled, coughed, seemed to hesitate and finally said: –You’ll see how simple it is… I would have preferred not to tell you anything… but between us!… I see clearly that there is no way to hide something from you… when I saw the hanged man… I didn’t know that you had just seen him!… and, before going to find the Mayor, so that you wouldn’t see him, you, the hanged man, I untied him immediately; I wanted to carry him off the property, I put him on my shoulders… And as La Candeur stopped, overcome by a certain emotion that he no longer even tried to hide: “Well!…” cried Rouletabille, “I’m listening!… Go on!… Meanwhile , Ivana and I were almost annihilated on the stone bench!… And when we then tried to escape through Garavan’s gate … ” “Yes! Yes!” said La Candeur agitatedly… “I understand very well what happened … it’s a shame to make you see twice a hanged man that I wanted to hide from you! ” “But what happened? ” “Well, there you go… While I was carrying him, at the moment when I arrived in front of Garavan’s gate, the only one that was open and through which I was obliged to pass, imagine that it seemed to me that Athanase Khetew had moved me a little on my back!” My old man! My blood boiled… I thought of all the trouble you would have if the hanged man were still alive… I remembered that he had wanted to cut me in two… And then, I love you so much, Rouletabille… my goodness… I hung him up again!
THE END. You have just read “The Strange Wedding of Rouletabille” by Gaston Leroux, a work where suspense, drama and emotion are masterfully intertwined. In this story, the author reminds us that even the greatest minds are not immune to life’s pitfalls and the torments of the heart. The secrets revealed and the tensions experienced by Rouletabille resonate like a reflection on love, loyalty and destiny. Thank you for sharing this literary moment, and remember that every story, like every life, conceals its own mysteries. and revelations.
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