Oswald was so anxious about Czika that he had not been so much disgusted with the horrible scene as he would have been under other circumstances. Fortunately he saw neither the child nor Xenobia in the crowd, but the mere thought that they might have been mixed up with such a pandemonium was terrible to him, and he determined to remove them at any hazard. He pushed his way through the noisy fighting crowd, who did not notice him at all, and inquired of the one and the other why they were fighting, and where Xenobia the gypsy was, with her child? No one had time or inclination to answer his questions, until at last he happened to speak to a young man who looked a little less rowdyish than the rest, and who told him that some members of the rope-dancer's troop had run away, a gypsy woman and her daughter, and that this had given rise to a general fight. He pointed out to him a man who was wiping the blood off his face and speaking with most animated gesticulations, intimating that that was the director, and that he would probably be able to tell him all he desired to know.
Oswald felt greatly relieved when he heard this. Xenobia and Czika were gone, and it mattered little where they had gone to, so they were free from this association. He considered for a moment whether he had better return without having anything more to do with the rope-dancers; but the desire to hear more, and to ascertain, perhaps, the place to which the fugitives might have escaped, overcame his reluctance, and he addressed the person who had been pointed out to him as the director.
Mr. Schmenckel was a man of remarkable elasticity of mind, and had readily recovered the imperilled harmony of his soul after the battle, from which he had come forth covered with honorable wounds. As soon as the first storm of his passions had subsided a little, he generally exhibited a high degree of that philosophic resignation which submits with dignity to the inevitable, and makes every effort to adapt itself to the circumstances. Since the gypsy woman was gone, all lamentations about his loss would only make him ridiculous, and it became a noble character to forgive and forget. He pretended, therefore, to ignore the whole occurrence, and treated it as something by no means unexpected. "Ingratitude is the world's reward--easily won, easily lost--to-day it is I, to-morrow it is another. Let us sit down again, gentlemen. Director Schmenckel is not so easily thrown out of gear. We have other means still in reserve to entertain a highly-honored public, and you shall see that the performance which I shall have the honor to give to-morrow--what does the gentleman wish?--you wish to speak to me? I am at your service--a director must be always ready." Mr. Schmenckel followed Oswald, who had asked him for a few moments conversation, very readily, since the circumstance that an elegantly-dressed gentleman came all the way to the Green Hat in order to have an interview with Director Schmenckel, was well calculated to make a sensation.
"What does your excellency desire?" inquired Mr. Schmenckel, when they were in the hall.
"I should be glad if you would give me some information about the gypsy woman, who, I am told, has left your company this evening."
Mr. Schmenckel was startled; the question sounded suspicious. He availed himself of the light of the lamp before the house--for they had reached the street by this time--to examine Oswald's face more carefully, and he now recognized in him the gentleman whom the Czika had embraced. Mr. Schmenckel knew at once how the matter stood. This young gentleman was an immensely rich lord who had a mania for gypsies, and was in the habit of buying up young gypsy children for his amusement. Mr. Schmenckel reflected that the woman might possibly return, and that the greater his claims were upon her, the higher the price he might ask for the child.
"Well," he said, in order to gain time for consideration, "why would your excellency like to know?"
"That does not matter," replied Oswald; "it will suffice for you that I do not mean to leave the man who gives me the information I desire to obtain unrewarded," and he slipped a dollar into Mr. Schmenckel's hand.
"Thanks, your excellency," replied Mr. Schmenckel, whose suspicions were only confirmed by Oswald's liberality, "nevertheless I should like to----"
"But I do not understand why you should hesitate to tell me what little you may possibly know about the woman?"