“Oh, nonsense!” said Christian, “I only dreamed the whole story, perhaps; and, at any rate, I must not think about it now. I see at the bottom of this box my poor little marionettes, whom I am now going to exhibit for the last time, or the time before the last; for this, M. Goefle, is the only real and sensible conclusion to which I have been led by all my reflections. I will give up the fool’s cap, and take the hammer of the miner, the axe of the wood-cutter, or the whip of the travelling peasant! And for the rest, I laugh at it! What difference does it make, whether I am the son of an amiable fairy or a wicked iarl? I will be the son of my works; and one need not rack one’s brains to come to a conclusion so simple and so logical.”
“That is right, Christian, that is right!” cried M. Goefle. “I love to hear you talk so; but still, for all that, I have my idea—I hold on to it, I dig into it, I feed it, and now I am going to give it an airing. It may be absurd, but still it is possible! I feel a constant anxiety to see Stenson; I will tear his secret from him! I know, at present, how to set to work. I will return in an hour at the most, and we will go together to the chateau. I will call on the baron to find out what he wants with me, and will observe him carefully. He thinks himself shrewd, but I will be shrewder than he. Yes, that’s the idea—courage! Au revoir, Christian! Come, Nils, light me.—Ah, stay, Christian! here, it seems to me, is Master Puffo!”
In fact, M. Goefle passed Puffo as he went out.
“So, here you are!” said Christian to his servant. “Are you doing better to-day?”
“I am doing capitally, master,” replied the Livornese, in an even ruder tone than usual.
“Well then, my lad, to work! we have not a moment to lose. We shall play The Marriage of Folly, the piece that you know best: you know it by heart, and will not need a rehearsal.”
“No, if you don’t put in too many of your new gags.”
“I’ll do as I choose about that; but I will not fail to give you your cues, so don’t be alarmed. Go at once to the new chateau with the ass and baggage; put up the theatre, arrange the scenery. Stay—since we have selected the piece, you may as well take the manuscript. For my part, I will dress the actors, and follow you. If you must absolutely run through the scenes, we shall have time enough over there. The audience, you know, always takes a quarter of an hour to find seats and get quiet.”
Puffo started to go out; but, after taking a few steps, paused and hesitated. Johan, while keeping him a prisoner at Stollborg without his knowing it, had aroused him against his master by his insinuations, and Puffo was impatient to get into a quarrel with him. Still, he knew him to be agile and determined, and perhaps also a feeling of involuntary affection for Christian had glided, unperceived, into some hidden corner of his brutal and corrupt soul. He took courage, however.
“That is not all, Master Christian,” he said; “I want to know who the rascal was who exhibited the marionettes with you last evening?”