"I thought so," said the athlete; "if Fanfaro is alone only one second, he generally finds time to save somebody. Where is the boy now?"
"He will be here soon. He asked me to get on the back of the horse with him. I got up first, and hardly had the fiery steed felt some one on his back than he flew away like an arrow. I was too feeble to check the horse, and so my rescuer was forced to follow on foot."
"Fanfaro doesn't care for that; he walks miles at a time without getting tired, and in less than fifteen minutes he will be here."
"Then it is the right time for me to ask you a few questions which I do not wish him to hear. You are probably aware what my position at court is?"
"Candidly, no; the atmosphere of the court has never agreed with me."
"Then let me tell you that my position is a very influential one, and consequently it would be easy for me to do something for you and your—son."
The marquis pronounced the word "son" in a peculiar way, but Girdel shook his head.
"I wish Fanfaro was my son," he sighed; "I know of no better luck."
"If the young man is not your son," said the marquis, "then he would need my assistance the more. His parents are, perhaps, poor people, and my fortune—"
"Fanfaro has no parents any more, my lord marquis."