“Very much at your service,” answered Christian Waldo, bowing to the doctor of laws, with much grace; “and if you would like to know how Cristiano del Lago, Cristiano Goffredi, and Christian Waldo came to be one and the same person, attend to the rest of my adventures.”
“I am listening, and with a great deal of curiosity, too. But I want to know when you received this new name of Christian Waldo?”
“Oh, that one is really new. It only dates back to last autumn, and I should find it difficult to tell why I adopted it. The fact is, I believe it came to me in a dream, and that it is a reminiscence of the name of some locality which made an impression upon my mind during my infancy.”
“That is singular! Well, no matter. You left off inside the theatre of marionettes, in the square of—”
“Of Celano,” said Christian; “again on the borders of a beautiful lake. I assure you, Monsieur Goefle, that my destiny is linked in with lakes; there certainly is some mystery under the association, which perhaps some day I shall penetrate.
“You have not forgotten that the police were at my heels, and that had it not been for the booth of marionettes, I should probably have been taken and hung. This booth, however, was very small, and could hardly contain more than one man. When I asked you if you knew how these marionette theatres are constructed—an excusable inquiry, since this characteristic Italian amusement is not common in your country, and perhaps has never been brought here except by myself—it was with the intention of explaining my position between the feet of the operator, who, busily occupied in making Punchinello fight with an officer, with his hands and eyes both raised as high as possible, and his mind intensely concentrated upon the work of improvising his burlesque drama, had no time to notice or to understand what was taking place in the vicinity of his knees. There remained, therefore, only a single minute before the denouement of the piece and my own fate together.
“I felt that it would not do to trust my safety to mere chance. Picking up from the ground two burattini, which, by a curious coincidence with my own circumstances, represented a judge and a hangman, and rising up as well as I could by the side of the operator, I placed the marionettes upon the stage, and at the risk of breaking through the cloth awning of the box, introduced an unexpected scene into the piece, quite impromptu. This scene had an immense success; and my associate, without being the least in the world disconcerted, received it quite as a matter of course, and although extremely crowded for room, sustained his part of the dialogue with extraordinary gayety and presence of mind.”
“Wonderful, fantastic Italy!” exclaimed M. Goefle; “nowhere else are men’s faculties so keen and so ready!”
“My companion,” continued Christian, “was a good deal more penetrating than you have imagined. He had recognized me; had comprehended my situation, and had resolved to rescue me.”
“And did he do so?”