CHAPTER XII. BEHIND THE SCENES.
The large theatre of the Porte-Saint-Martin was crowded by an impatientmultitude. All Paris had hurried with eager and burning curiosity toMorok's exhibition. It is quite unnecessary to say that the lion-tamerhad completely abandoned his small taste in religious baubles, which hehad so successfully carried on at the White Falcon Inn at Leipsic.There were, moreover, numerous tokens by which the surprising effectsof Morok's sudden conversion had been blazoned in the most extraordinarypictures: the antiquated baubles in which he had formerly dealt wouldhave found no sale in Paris. Morok had nearly finished dressing himself,in one of the actor's rooms, which had been lent to him. Over a coat ofmail, with cuishes and brassarts, he wore an ample pair of red trousers,fastened round his ankles by broad rings of gilt brass. His long caftanof black cloth, embroidered with scarlet and gold, was bound round hiswaist and wrist by other large rings of gilt metal. This sombre costumeimparted to him an aspect still more ferocious. His thick and red-hairedbeard fell in large quantities down to his chest, and a long pieceof white muslin was folded round his red head. A devout missionary inGermany and an actor in Paris, Morok knew as well as his employers, theJesuits, how to accommodate himself to circumstances.
Seated in one corner of the room, and contemplating with a sort ofstupid admiration, was Jacques Rennepont, better known as "Sleepinbuff"(from the likelihood that he would end his days in rags, or his presentantipathy to great care in dress). Since the day Hardy's factory hadbeen destroyed by fire, Jacques had not quitted Morok, passingthe nights in excesses, which had no baneful effects on the ironconstitution of the lion-tamer. On the other's features, on thecontrary, a great alteration was perceptible; his hollow cheeks, marblepallor, his eyes, by turns dull and heavy, or gleaming with luridfire, betrayed the ravages of debauchery, his parched lips were almostconstantly curled by a bitter and sardonic smile. His spirit, oncegay and sanguine, still struggled against the besotting influence ofhabitual intoxication. Unfitted for labor, no longer able to foregogross pleasures, Jacques sought to drown in wine a few virtuous impulseswhich he still possessed, and had sunk so low as to accept without shamethe large dole of sensual gratification proffered him by Morok, who paidall the expenses of their orgies, but never gave him money, in orderthat he might be completely dependent on him. After gazing at Morok forsome time in amazement, Jacques said to him, in a familiar tone: "Well,yours is a famous trade; you may boast that, at this moment, there arenot two men like you in the whole world That's flattering. It's a pityyou don't stick to this fine trade."
"What do you mean?"
"Why, how is the conspiracy going on, in whose honor you make me keep itup all day and all night?"
"It is working, but the time is not yet come; that is why I wish to haveyou always at hand, till the great day. Do you complain?"
"Hang it, no!" said Jacques. "What could I do? Burnt up with brandy asI am, if I wanted to work, I've no longer the strength to do so. I havenot, like you, a head of marble, and a body of iron; but as for fuddlingmyself with gunpowder, instead of anything else, that'll do for me; I'monly fit for that work now--and then, it will drive away thought."
"Oh what kind?"
"You know that when I do think, I think only of one thing," saidJacques, gloomily.
"The Bacchanal queen?--still?" said Morok, in a disdainful tone.
"Still! rather: when I shall think of her no longer, I shall be dead--orstupefied. Fiend!"
"You were never better or more intelligent, you fool!" replied Morok,fastening his turban. The conversation was here interrupted. Morok'saider entered hastily.
The gigantic form of this Hercules had increased in width. He washabited like Alcides; his enormous limbs, furrowed with veins as thickas whipcord, were covered with a close-fitting flesh-colored garment, towhich a pair of red drawers formed a strong contrast.
"Why do you rush in like a storm, Goliath?" said Morok.
"There's a pretty storm in the house; they are beginning to getimpatient, and are calling out like madmen. But if that were all!"
"Well, what else?"
"Death will not be able to play this evening."
Morok turned quickly around. He seemed uneasy. "Why so?" he exclaimed.
"I have just seen her! she's crouching at the bottom of her cage; herears lie so close to her head, she looks as if they had been cut off.You know what that means."
"Is that all?" said Morok, turning to the glass to complete his headdress.
"It's quite enough; she's in one of her tearing fits. Since that nightin Germany, when she ripped up that old hack of a white horse, I've notseen her look so savage! her eyes shine like burning candles."
"Then she must have her fine collar on," said Morok, quietly.
"Her fine collar?"
"Yes; her spring-collar."
"And I must be lady's-maid," said the giant. "A nice toilet to attendto!"
"Hold your tongue!"
"That's not all--" continued Goliath, hesitating.
"What more?"
"I might as well tell you at once."
"Will you speak?"
"Well! he is here."
"Who, you stupid brute?"
"The Englishman!"
Morok started; his arms fell powerless by his side. Jacques was struckwith the lion-tamer's paleness and troubled countenance.
"The Englishman!--you have seen him?" cried Morok, addressing Goliath."You are quite sure?"
"Quite sure. I was looking through the peep-hole in the curtain; I sawhim in one of the stage-boxes--he wishes to see things close; he's easyto recognize, with his pointed forehead, big nose, and goggle eyes."
Morok shuddered again; usually fierce and unmoved, he appeared to bemore and more agitated, and so alarmed, that Jacques said to him: "Whois this Englishman?"
"He has followed me from Strasburg, where he fell in with me," saidMorok, with visible dejection. "He travelled with his own horses, byshort stages, as I did; stopping where I stopped, so as never to missone of my exhibitions. But two days before I arrived at Paris, he leftme--I thought I was rid of him," said Morok, with a sigh.
"Rid of him!--how you talk!" replied Jacques, surprised; "such a goodcustomer, such an admirer!"
"Aye!" said Morok, becoming more and more agitated; "this wretch haswagered an enormous sum, that I will be devoured in his presence,during one of my performances: he hopes to win his wager--that is why hefollows me about."
Sleepinbuff found the John Bull's idea so amusingly eccentric, that, forthe first time since a very long period, he burst into a peal of heartylaughter. Morok, pale with rage, rushed towards him with so menacing anair, that Goliath was obliged to interpose.
"Come, come," said Jacques, "don't be angry; if it is serious, I willnot laugh any more."
Morok was appeased, and said to Sleepinbuff in a hoarse voice: "Do youthink me a coward?"
"No, by heaven!"
"Well! And yet this Englishman, with his grotesque face, frightens memore than any tiger or my panther!"
"You say so, and I believe it," replied Jacques; "but I cannotunderstand why the presence of this man should alarm you."
"But consider, you dull knave!" cried Morok, "that, obliged to watchincessantly the least movement of the ferocious beast, whom I keep insubjection by my action and my looks, there is something terrible inknowing that two eyes are there--always there--fixed--waiting tillthe least absence of mind shall expose me to be torn in pieces by theanimals."
"Now, I understand," said Jacques, shuddering in his turn. "It isterrible."
"Yes; for once there, though I may not see this cursed Englishman, Ifancy I have his two round eyes, fixed and wide open, always before me.My tiger Cain once nearly mutilated my arm, when my attention was drawnaway by this Englishman, whom the devil take! Blood and thunder!" criedMorok: "this man will be fatal to me." And Morok paced the room in greatagitation.
"Besides, Death lays her ears close to her skull," said Goliath,brutally. "If you persist--
mind, I tell you--the Englishman will win hiswager this evening."
"Go away, you brute!--don't vex my head with your confoundedpredictions," cried Morok: "go and prepare Death's collar."
"Well, every one to his taste; you wish the panther to taste you," saidthe giant, stalking heavily away, after this joke.
"But if you feel these fears," said Jacques, "why do you not say thatthe panther is ill?"
Morok shrugged his shoulders, and replied with a sort of feverishferocity, "Have you ever heard of the fierce pleasure of the gamester,who stakes his honor, his life, upon a card? Well! I too--in these dailyexhibitions where my life is at stake--find a wild, fierce pleasure inbraving death, before a crowded assembly, shuddering and terrified at myaudacity. Yes, even in the fear with which this Englishman inspires me,I find, in spite of myself, a terrible excitement, which I abhor, andwhich yet subjugates me."
At this moment, the stage-manager entered the room, and interrupted thebeast-tamer. "May we give the signal, M. Morok?" said the stage-manager."The overture will not last above ten minutes."
"I am ready," said Morok.
"The police-inspector has just now given orders, that the double chainof the panther, and the iron ring riveted to the floor of the stage, atthe end of the cavern in the foreground, shall be again examined; andeverything has been reported quite secure."
"Yes--secure--except for me," murmured the beast-tamer.
"So, M. Morok, the signal may be given?"
"The signal may--be given," replied Morok. And the manager went out.