“Stay,” he said to Christian, who gayly congratulated him on his zeal; “look at that man who just passed me, and who is now going along the corridor below. Did he come from this room? Is he a servant of the baron’s? Do you know him?”
“I know him a great deal too well, and I was just under the necessity of telling him my opinion of him,” said Christian. “That man—whether a servant or not—is the very Guido Massarelli whose adventures I told you something about this morning, in relating my story.”
“You don’t say so! Well, that is a strange encounter, on my word!” cried M. Goefle; “and it may, perhaps, give you some trouble. You are enemies, and, if you have treated him as he deserves, he will injure you as much as possible.”
“How can he injure me? He is such a coward! I made him go down on his knees to me.”
“In that case—well, I don’t know what he will do, but it is a fact that he has discovered some important secret.”
“A secret concerning me?”
“No,” said M. Goefle, who was on the point of speaking freely, when he remembered his resolution not to reveal anything relating to Stenson; “but, at any rate, you are hiding Christian Goffredi under the mask of Christian Waldo, and he will betray you.”
“What if he does? I have not dishonored the name of Goffredi, and I hope the time will come when my singular adventures will redound to my honor, rather than to my discredit. Pray what have I to fear from any one’s opinion? Am I either idle or debauched? I despise all the Massarellis in the world! Have I not already made even a chivalric reputation in Sweden and elsewhere, under my buffoon’s mask? More good actions are attributed to me, indeed, than I have performed, and I have become a sort of hero of romance. Was I not last night the Prince Royal of Sweden? And if this reputation of mine should become too fantastic, cannot I change my name whenever I shall think proper, and adopt a serious profession? It is important upon your account (and that is the only reason I give it a thought, M. Goefle) to prevent your pretended nephew, who attended the ball last night, from being recognized under the mask of Christian Waldo; but this is the only thing we need trouble ourselves about. Now Massarelli was not here last night, I am sure of it, and he knows nothing about that adventure; otherwise I should have heard of it. However, in any event, you will only need to repeat what is the truth, and adhere to it, that you have never had either nephew or natural child, and that you are in no way responsible for the practical jokes of a professional jester like Christian Waldo.”
“After all, I am as indifferent upon the subject as yourself,” replied M. Goefle, taking off his wig, and covering his head with a light black cap which Christian gave him; “do you suppose I am such a coward as to be afraid of the ogre of this castle? Christian, I am about to make my first appearance as an exhibitor of marionettes. Well, if you should ever be reproached with having earned your living as a showman, so as to devote yourself to science, you can reply that you knew a man holding an honorable position in a dignified profession, who became your fellow-performer for his own amusement.”
“Or rather out of kindness to me, Monsieur Goefle.”