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through the stillness of the night. Immediately after that the horses had been put at a more rapid pace, but it had seemed to Marguerite as if that one cry of pain had been repeated by several others which sounded more feeble and soon appeared to be dying away in the distance behind. The soldier who sat opposite to them must have heard the cry too, for he jumped up, as if wakened from sleep, and put his head out of the window. "Did you hear that cry, citizen?" he asked. But only a curse answered him, and a peremptory command not to lose sight of the prisoners by poking his head out of the window. "Did you hear the cry?" asked the soldier of Marguerite as he made haste to obey. "Yes! What could it be?" she murmured. "It seems dangerous to drive so fast in this darkness," muttered the soldier. After which remark he, with the stolidity peculiar to his kind, figuratively shrugged his shoulders, detaching himself, as it were, of the whole affair. "We should be out of the forest by now," he remarked in an undertone a little while later; "the way seemed shorter before." Just then the coach gave an unexpected lurch to one side, and after much groaning and creaking of axles and springs it came to a standstill, and the citizen agent was heard cursing loudly and then scrambling down from the box. The next moment the carriage-door was pulled open from without, and the harsh voice called out peremptorily: "Citizen soldier, here--quick!--quick!--curse you!--we'll have one of the horses down if you don't hurry!" The soldier struggled to his feet; it was never good to be slow in obeying the citizen agent's commands. He was half-asleep and no doubt numb with cold and long sitting still; to accelerate his movements he was suddenly gripped by the arm and dragged incontinently out of the coach. Then the door was slammed to again, either by a rough hand or a sudden gust of wind, Marguerite could not tell; she heard a cry of rage and one of terror, and Heron's raucous curses. She cowered in the corner of the carriage with Armand's head against her shoulder, and tried to close her ears to all those hideous sounds. Then suddenly all the sounds were hushed and all around everything became perfectly calm and still--so still that at first the silence oppressed her with a vague, nameless dread. It was as if Nature herself had paused, that she might listen; and the silence became more and more absolute, until Marguerite could hear Armand's soft, regular breathing close to her ear. The window nearest to her was open, and as she leaned forward with that paralysing sense of oppression a breath of pure air struck full upon her nostrils and brought with it a briny taste as if from the sea. It was not quite so dark; and there was a sense as of open country stretching out to the limits of the horizon. Overhead a vague greyish light suffused the sky, and the wind swept the clouds in great rolling banks right across that light. Marguerite gazed upward with a more calm feeling that was akin to gratitude. That pale light, though so wan and feeble, was thrice welcome after that inky blackness wherein shadows were less dark than the lights. She watched eagerly the bank of clouds driven by the dying gale. The light grew brighter and faintly golden, now the banks of clouds--storm-tossed and fleecy--raced past one another, parted and reunited like veils of unseen giant dancers waved by hands that controlled infinite space--advanced and rushed and slackened speed again--united and finally torn asunder to reveal the waning moon, honey-coloured and mysterious, rising as if from an invisible ocean far away. The wan pale light spread over the wide stretch of country, throwing over it as it spread dull tones of indigo and of blue. Here and there sparse, stunted trees with fringed gaunt arms bending to prevailing winds proclaimed the neighbourhood of the sea. Marguerite gazed on the picture which the waning moon had so suddenly revealed; but she gazed with eyes that knew not what they saw. The moon had risen on her right--there lay the east--and the coach must have been travelling due north, whereas Crecy... In the absolute silence that reigned she could perceive from far, very far away, the sound of a church clock striking the midnight hour; and now it seemed to her supersensitive senses that a firm footstep was treading the soft earth, a footstep that drew nearer--and then nearer still. Nature did pause to listen. The wind was hushed, the night-birds in the forest had gone to rest. Marguerite's heart beat so fast that its throbbings choked her, and a dizziness clouded her consciousness. But through this state of torpor she heard the opening of the carriage door, she felt the onrush of that pure, briny air, and she felt a long, burning kiss upon her hands. She thought then that she was really dead, and that God in His infinite love had opened to her the outer gates of Paradise. "My love!" she murmured. She was leaning back in the carriage and her eyes were closed, but she felt that firm fingers removed the irons from her wrists, and that a pair of warm lips were pressed there in their stead. "There, little woman, that's better so--is it not? Now let me get hold of poor old Armand!" It was Heaven, of course, else how could earth hold such heavenly joy? "Percy!" exclaimed Armand in an awed voice. "Hush, dear!" murmured Marguerite feebly; "we are in Heaven you and I--" Whereupon a ringing laugh woke the echoes of the silent night. "In Heaven, dear heart!" And the voice had a delicious earthly ring in its whole-hearted merriment. "Please God, you'll both be at Portel with me before dawn." Then she was indeed forced to believe. She put out her hands and groped for him, for it was dark inside the carriage; she groped, and felt his massive shoulders leaning across the body of the coach, while his fingers busied themselves with the irons on Armand's wrist. "Don't touch that brute's filthy coat with your dainty fingers, dear heart," he said gaily. "Great Lord! I have worn that wretch's clothes for over two hours; I feel as if the dirt had penetrated to my bones." Then with that gesture so habitual to him he took her head between his two hands, and drawing her to him until the wan light from without lit up the face that he worshipped, he gazed his fill into her eyes. She could only see the outline of his head silhouetted against the wind-tossed sky; she could not see his eyes, nor his lips, but she felt his nearness, and the happiness of that almost caused her to swoon. "Come out into the open, my lady fair," he murmured, and though she could not see, she could feel that he smiled; "let God's pure air blow through your hair and round your dear head. Then, if you can walk so far, there's a small half-way house close by here. I have knocked up the none too amiable host. You and Armand could have half an hour's rest there before we go further on our way." "But you, Percy?--are you safe?" "Yes, m'dear, we are all of us safe until morning-time enough to reach Le Portel, and to be aboard the Day-Dream before mine amiable friend M. Chambertin has discovered his worthy colleague lying gagged and bound inside the chapel of the Holy Sepulchre. By Gad! how old Heron will curse--the moment he can open his mouth!" He half helped, half lifted her out of the carriage. The strong pure air suddenly rushing right through to her lungs made her feel faint, and she almost fell. But it was good to feel herself falling, when one pair of arms amongst the millions on the earth were there to receive her. "Can you walk, dear heart?" he asked. "Lean well on me--it is not far, and the rest will do you good." "But you, Percy--" He laughed, and the most complete joy of living seemed to resound through that laugh. Her arm was in his, and for one moment he stood still while his eyes swept the far reaches of the country, the mellow distance still wrapped in its mantle of indigo, still untouched by the mysterious light of the waning moon. He pressed her arm against his heart, but his right hand was stretched out towards the black wall of the forest behind him, towards the dark crests of the pines in which the dying wind sent its last mournful sighs. "Dear heart," he said, and his voice quivered with the intensity of his excitement, "beyond the stretch of that wood, from far away over there, there are cries and moans of anguish that come to my ear even now. But for you, dear, I would cross that wood to-night and re-enter Paris to-morrow. But for you, dear--but for you," he reiterated earnestly as he pressed her closer to him, for a bitter cry had risen to her lips. She went on in silence. Her happiness was great--as great as was her pain. She had found him again, the man whom she worshipped, the husband whom she thought never to see again on earth. She had found him, and not even now--not after those terrible weeks of misery and suffering unspeakable--could she feel that love had triumphed over the wild, adventurous spirit, the reckless enthusiasm, the ardour of self-sacrifice. CHAPTER XLIX. THE LAND OF ELDORADO It seems that in the pocket of Heron's coat there was a letter-case with some few hundred francs. It was amusing to think that the brute's money helped to bribe the ill-tempered keeper of the half-way house to receive guests at midnight, and to ply them well with food, drink, and the shelter of a stuffy coffee-room. Marguerite sat silently beside her husband, her hand in his. Armand, opposite to them, had both elbows on the table. He looked pale and wan, with a bandage across his forehead, and his glowing eyes were resting on his chief. "Yes! you demmed young idiot," said Blakeney merrily, "you nearly upset my plan in the end, with your yelling and screaming outside the chapel gates." "I wanted to get to you, Percy. I thought those brutes had got you there inside that building." "Not they!" he exclaimed. "It was my friend Heron whom they had trussed and gagged, and whom my amiable friend M. Chambertin will find in there to-morrow morning. By Gad! I would go back if only for the pleasure of hearing Heron curse when first the gag is taken from his mouth." "But how was it all done, Percy? And there was de Batz--" "De Batz was part of the scheme I had planned for mine own escape before I knew that those brutes meant to take Marguerite and you as hostages for my good behaviour. What I hoped then was that under cover of a tussle or a fight I could somehow or other contrive to slip through their fingers. It was a chance, and you know my belief in bald-headed Fortune, with the one solitary hair. Well, I meant to grab that hair; and at the worst I could but die in the open and not caged in that awful hole like some noxious vermin. I knew that de Batz would rise to the bait. I told him in my letter that the Dauphin would be at the Chateau d'Ourde this night, but that I feared the revolutionary Government had got wind of this fact, and were sending an armed escort to bring the lad away. This letter Ffoulkes took to him; I knew that he would make a vigorous effort to get the Dauphin into his hands, and that during the scuffle that one hair on Fortune's head would for one second only, mayhap, come within my reach. I had so planned the expedition that we were bound to arrive at the forest of Boulogne by nightfall, and night is always a useful ally. But at the guard-house of the Rue Ste. Anne I realised for the first time that those brutes had pressed me into a tighter corner than I had pre-conceived." He paused, and once again that look of recklessness swept over his face, and his eyes--still hollow and circled--shone with the excitement of past memories. "I was such a weak, miserable wretch, then," he said, in answer to Marguerite's appeal. "I had to try and build up some strength, when--Heaven forgive me for the sacrilege--I had unwittingly risked your precious life, dear heart, in that blind endeavour to save mine own. By Gad! it was no easy task in that jolting vehicle with that noisome wretch beside me for sole company; yet I ate and I drank and I slept for three days and two nights, until the hour when in the darkness I struck Heron from behind, half-strangled him first, then gagged him, and finally slipped into his filthy coat and put that loathsome bandage across my head, and his battered hat above it all. The yell he gave when first I attacked him made every horse rear--you must remember it--the noise effectually drowned our last scuffle in the coach. Chauvelin was the only man who might have suspected what had occurred, but he had gone on ahead, and bald-headed Fortune had passed by me, and I had managed to grab its one hair. After that it was all quite easy. The sergeant and the soldiers had seen very little of Heron and nothing of me; it did not take a great effort to deceive them, and the darkness of the night was my most faithful friend. His raucous voice was not difficult to imitate, and darkness always muffles and changes every tone. Anyway, it was not likely that those loutish soldiers would even remotely suspect the trick that was being played on them. The citizen agent's orders were promptly and implicitly obeyed. The men never even thought to wonder that after insisting on an escort of twenty he should drive off with two prisoners and only two men to guard them. If they did wonder, it was not theirs to question. Those two troopers are spending an uncomfortable night somewhere in the forest of Boulogne, each tied to a tree, and some two leagues apart one from the other. And now," he added gaily, "en voiture, my fair lady; and you, too, Armand. 'Tis seven leagues to Le Portel, and we must be there before dawn." "Sir Andrew's intention was to make for Calais first, there to open communication with the Day-Dream and then for Le Portel," said Marguerite; "after that he meant to strike back for the Chateau d'Ourde in search of me." "Then we'll still find him at Le Portel--I shall know how to lay hands on him; but you two must get aboard the Day-Dream at once, for Ffoulkes and I can always look after ourselves." It was one hour after midnight when--refreshed with food and rest--Marguerite, Armand and Sir Percy left the half-way house. Marguerite was standing in the doorway ready to go. Percy and Armand had gone ahead to bring the coach along. "Percy," whispered Armand, "Marguerite does not know?" "Of course she does not, you young fool," retorted Percy lightly. "If you try and tell her I think I would smash your head." "But you--" said the young man with sudden vehemence; "can you bear the sight of me? My God! when I think--" "Don't think, my good Armand--not of that anyway. Only think of the woman for whose sake you committed a crime--if she is pure and good, woo her and win her--not just now, for it were foolish to go back to Paris after her, but anon, when she comes to England and all these past days are forgotten--then love her as much as you can, Armand. Learn your lesson of love better than I have learnt mine; do not cause Jeanne Lange those tears of anguish which my mad spirit brings to your sister's eyes. You were right, Armand, when you said that I do not know how to love!" But on board the Day-Dream, when all danger was past, Marguerite felt that he did. 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woman

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through the stillness of the night. Immediately after that the horses had been put at a more rapid pace, but it had seemed to Marguerite as if that one cry of pain had been repeated by several others which sounded more feeble and soon appeared to be dying away in the distance behind. The soldier who sat opposite to them must have heard the cry too, for he jumped up, as if wakened from sleep, and put his head out of the window. "Did you hear that cry, citizen?" he asked. But only a curse answered him, and a peremptory command not to lose sight of the prisoners by poking his head out of the window. "Did you hear the cry?" asked the soldier of Marguerite as he made haste to obey. "Yes! What could it be?" she murmured. "It seems dangerous to drive so fast in this darkness," muttered the soldier. After which remark he, with the stolidity peculiar to his kind, figuratively shrugged his shoulders, detaching himself, as it were, of the whole affair. "We should be out of the forest by now," he remarked in an undertone a little while later; "the way seemed shorter before." Just then the coach gave an unexpected lurch to one side, and after much groaning and creaking of axles and springs it came to a standstill, and the citizen agent was heard cursing loudly and then scrambling down from the box. The next moment the carriage-door was pulled open from without, and the harsh voice called out peremptorily: "Citizen soldier, here--quick!--quick!--curse you!--we'll have one of the horses down if you don't hurry!" The soldier struggled to his feet; it was never good to be slow in obeying the citizen agent's commands. He was half-asleep and no doubt numb with cold and long sitting still; to accelerate his movements he was suddenly gripped by the arm and dragged incontinently out of the coach. Then the door was slammed to again, either by a rough hand or a sudden gust of wind, Marguerite could not tell; she heard a cry of rage and one of terror, and Heron's raucous curses. She cowered in the corner of the carriage with Armand's head against her shoulder, and tried to close her ears to all those hideous sounds. Then suddenly all the sounds were hushed and all around everything became perfectly calm and still--so still that at first the silence oppressed her with a vague, nameless dread. It was as if Nature herself had paused, that she might listen; and the silence became more and more absolute, until Marguerite could hear Armand's soft, regular breathing close to her ear. The window nearest to her was open, and as she leaned forward with that paralysing sense of oppression a breath of pure air struck full upon her nostrils and brought with it a briny taste as if from the sea. It was not quite so dark; and there was a sense as of open country stretching out to the limits of the horizon. Overhead a vague greyish light suffused the sky, and the wind swept the clouds in great rolling banks right across that light. Marguerite gazed upward with a more calm feeling that was akin to gratitude. That pale light, though so wan and feeble, was thrice welcome after that inky blackness wherein shadows were less dark than the lights. She watched eagerly the bank of clouds driven by the dying gale. The light grew brighter and faintly golden, now the banks of clouds--storm-tossed and fleecy--raced past one another, parted and reunited like veils of unseen giant dancers waved by hands that controlled infinite space--advanced and rushed and slackened speed again--united and finally torn asunder to reveal the waning moon, honey-coloured and mysterious, rising as if from an invisible ocean far away. The wan pale light spread over the wide stretch of country, throwing over it as it spread dull tones of indigo and of blue. Here and there sparse, stunted trees with fringed gaunt arms bending to prevailing winds proclaimed the neighbourhood of the sea. Marguerite gazed on the picture which the waning moon had so suddenly revealed; but she gazed with eyes that knew not what they saw. The moon had risen on her right--there lay the east--and the coach must have been travelling due north, whereas Crecy... In the absolute silence that reigned she could perceive from far, very far away, the sound of a church clock striking the midnight hour; and now it seemed to her supersensitive senses that a firm footstep was treading the soft earth, a footstep that drew nearer--and then nearer still. Nature did pause to listen. The wind was hushed, the night-birds in the forest had gone to rest. Marguerite's heart beat so fast that its throbbings choked her, and a dizziness clouded her consciousness. But through this state of torpor she heard the opening of the carriage door, she felt the onrush of that pure, briny air, and she felt a long, burning kiss upon her hands. She thought then that she was really dead, and that God in His infinite love had opened to her the outer gates of Paradise. "My love!" she murmured. She was leaning back in the carriage and her eyes were closed, but she felt that firm fingers removed the irons from her wrists, and that a pair of warm lips were pressed there in their stead. "There, little woman, that's better so--is it not? Now let me get hold of poor old Armand!" It was Heaven, of course, else how could earth hold such heavenly joy? "Percy!" exclaimed Armand in an awed voice. "Hush, dear!" murmured Marguerite feebly; "we are in Heaven you and I--" Whereupon a ringing laugh woke the echoes of the silent night. "In Heaven, dear heart!" And the voice had a delicious earthly ring in its whole-hearted merriment. "Please God, you'll both be at Portel with me before dawn." Then she was indeed forced to believe. She put out her hands and groped for him, for it was dark inside the carriage; she groped, and felt his massive shoulders leaning across the body of the coach, while his fingers busied themselves with the irons on Armand's wrist. "Don't touch that brute's filthy coat with your dainty fingers, dear heart," he said gaily. "Great Lord! I have worn that wretch's clothes for over two hours; I feel as if the dirt had penetrated to my bones." Then with that gesture so habitual to him he took her head between his two hands, and drawing her to him until the wan light from without lit up the face that he worshipped, he gazed his fill into her eyes. She could only see the outline of his head silhouetted against the wind-tossed sky; she could not see his eyes, nor his lips, but she felt his nearness, and the happiness of that almost caused her to swoon. "Come out into the open, my lady fair," he murmured, and though she could not see, she could feel that he smiled; "let God's pure air blow through your hair and round your dear head. Then, if you can walk so far, there's a small half-way house close by here. I have knocked up the none too amiable host. You and Armand could have half an hour's rest there before we go further on our way." "But you, Percy?--are you safe?" "Yes, m'dear, we are all of us safe until morning-time enough to reach Le Portel, and to be aboard the Day-Dream before mine amiable friend M. Chambertin has discovered his worthy colleague lying gagged and bound inside the chapel of the Holy Sepulchre. By Gad! how old Heron will curse--the moment he can open his mouth!" He half helped, half lifted her out of the carriage. The strong pure air suddenly rushing right through to her lungs made her feel faint, and she almost fell. But it was good to feel herself falling, when one pair of arms amongst the millions on the earth were there to receive her. "Can you walk, dear heart?" he asked. "Lean well on me--it is not far, and the rest will do you good." "But you, Percy--" He laughed, and the most complete joy of living seemed to resound through that laugh. Her arm was in his, and for one moment he stood still while his eyes swept the far reaches of the country, the mellow distance still wrapped in its mantle of indigo, still untouched by the mysterious light of the waning moon. He pressed her arm against his heart, but his right hand was stretched out towards the black wall of the forest behind him, towards the dark crests of the pines in which the dying wind sent its last mournful sighs. "Dear heart," he said, and his voice quivered with the intensity of his excitement, "beyond the stretch of that wood, from far away over there, there are cries and moans of anguish that come to my ear even now. But for you, dear, I would cross that wood to-night and re-enter Paris to-morrow. But for you, dear--but for you," he reiterated earnestly as he pressed her closer to him, for a bitter cry had risen to her lips. She went on in silence. Her happiness was great--as great as was her pain. She had found him again, the man whom she worshipped, the husband whom she thought never to see again on earth. She had found him, and not even now--not after those terrible weeks of misery and suffering unspeakable--could she feel that love had triumphed over the wild, adventurous spirit, the reckless enthusiasm, the ardour of self-sacrifice. CHAPTER XLIX. THE LAND OF ELDORADO It seems that in the pocket of Heron's coat there was a letter-case with some few hundred francs. It was amusing to think that the brute's money helped to bribe the ill-tempered keeper of the half-way house to receive guests at midnight, and to ply them well with food, drink, and the shelter of a stuffy coffee-room. Marguerite sat silently beside her husband, her hand in his. Armand, opposite to them, had both elbows on the table. He looked pale and wan, with a bandage across his forehead, and his glowing eyes were resting on his chief. "Yes! you demmed young idiot," said Blakeney merrily, "you nearly upset my plan in the end, with your yelling and screaming outside the chapel gates." "I wanted to get to you, Percy. I thought those brutes had got you there inside that building." "Not they!" he exclaimed. "It was my friend Heron whom they had trussed and gagged, and whom my amiable friend M. Chambertin will find in there to-morrow morning. By Gad! I would go back if only for the pleasure of hearing Heron curse when first the gag is taken from his mouth." "But how was it all done, Percy? And there was de Batz--" "De Batz was part of the scheme I had planned for mine own escape before I knew that those brutes meant to take Marguerite and you as hostages for my good behaviour. What I hoped then was that under cover of a tussle or a fight I could somehow or other contrive to slip through their fingers. It was a chance, and you know my belief in bald-headed Fortune, with the one solitary hair. Well, I meant to grab that hair; and at the worst I could but die in the open and not caged in that awful hole like some noxious vermin. I knew that de Batz would rise to the bait. I told him in my letter that the Dauphin would be at the Chateau d'Ourde this night, but that I feared the revolutionary Government had got wind of this fact, and were sending an armed escort to bring the lad away. This letter Ffoulkes took to him; I knew that he would make a vigorous effort to get the Dauphin into his hands, and that during the scuffle that one hair on Fortune's head would for one second only, mayhap, come within my reach. I had so planned the expedition that we were bound to arrive at the forest of Boulogne by nightfall, and night is always a useful ally. But at the guard-house of the Rue Ste. Anne I realised for the first time that those brutes had pressed me into a tighter corner than I had pre-conceived." He paused, and once again that look of recklessness swept over his face, and his eyes--still hollow and circled--shone with the excitement of past memories. "I was such a weak, miserable wretch, then," he said, in answer to Marguerite's appeal. "I had to try and build up some strength, when--Heaven forgive me for the sacrilege--I had unwittingly risked your precious life, dear heart, in that blind endeavour to save mine own. By Gad! it was no easy task in that jolting vehicle with that noisome wretch beside me for sole company; yet I ate and I drank and I slept for three days and two nights, until the hour when in the darkness I struck Heron from behind, half-strangled him first, then gagged him, and finally slipped into his filthy coat and put that loathsome bandage across my head, and his battered hat above it all. The yell he gave when first I attacked him made every horse rear--you must remember it--the noise effectually drowned our last scuffle in the coach. Chauvelin was the only man who might have suspected what had occurred, but he had gone on ahead, and bald-headed Fortune had passed by me, and I had managed to grab its one hair. After that it was all quite easy. The sergeant and the soldiers had seen very little of Heron and nothing of me; it did not take a great effort to deceive them, and the darkness of the night was my most faithful friend. His raucous voice was not difficult to imitate, and darkness always muffles and changes every tone. Anyway, it was not likely that those loutish soldiers would even remotely suspect the trick that was being played on them. The citizen agent's orders were promptly and implicitly obeyed. The men never even thought to wonder that after insisting on an escort of twenty he should drive off with two prisoners and only two men to guard them. If they did wonder, it was not theirs to question. Those two troopers are spending an uncomfortable night somewhere in the forest of Boulogne, each tied to a tree, and some two leagues apart one from the other. And now," he added gaily, "en voiture, my fair lady; and you, too, Armand. 'Tis seven leagues to Le Portel, and we must be there before dawn." "Sir Andrew's intention was to make for Calais first, there to open communication with the Day-Dream and then for Le Portel," said Marguerite; "after that he meant to strike back for the Chateau d'Ourde in search of me." "Then we'll still find him at Le Portel--I shall know how to lay hands on him; but you two must get aboard the Day-Dream at once, for Ffoulkes and I can always look after ourselves." It was one hour after midnight when--refreshed with food and rest--Marguerite, Armand and Sir Percy left the half-way house. Marguerite was standing in the doorway ready to go. Percy and Armand had gone ahead to bring the coach along. "Percy," whispered Armand, "Marguerite does not know?" "Of course she does not, you young fool," retorted Percy lightly. "If you try and tell her I think I would smash your head." "But you--" said the young man with sudden vehemence; "can you bear the sight of me? My God! when I think--" "Don't think, my good Armand--not of that anyway. Only think of the woman for whose sake you committed a crime--if she is pure and good, woo her and win her--not just now, for it were foolish to go back to Paris after her, but anon, when she comes to England and all these past days are forgotten--then love her as much as you can, Armand. Learn your lesson of love better than I have learnt mine; do not cause Jeanne Lange those tears of anguish which my mad spirit brings to your sister's eyes. You were right, Armand, when you said that I do not know how to love!" But on board the Day-Dream, when all danger was past, Marguerite felt that he did. 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through the stillness of the night. Immediately after that the horses had been put at a more rapid pace, but it had seemed to Marguerite as if that one cry of pain had been repeated by several others which sounded more feeble and soon appeared to be dying away in the distance behind. The soldier who sat opposite to them must have heard the cry too, for he jumped up, as if wakened from sleep, and put his head out of the window. "Did you hear that cry, citizen?" he asked. But only a curse answered him, and a peremptory command not to lose sight of the prisoners by poking his head out of the window. "Did you hear the cry?" asked the soldier of Marguerite as he made haste to obey. "Yes! What could it be?" she murmured. "It seems dangerous to drive so fast in this darkness," muttered the soldier. After which remark he, with the stolidity peculiar to his kind, figuratively shrugged his shoulders, detaching himself, as it were, of the whole affair. "We should be out of the forest by now," he remarked in an undertone a little while later; "the way seemed shorter before." Just then the coach gave an unexpected lurch to one side, and after much groaning and creaking of axles and springs it came to a standstill, and the citizen agent was heard cursing loudly and then scrambling down from the box. The next moment the carriage-door was pulled open from without, and the harsh voice called out peremptorily: "Citizen soldier, here--quick!--quick!--curse you!--we'll have one of the horses down if you don't hurry!" The soldier struggled to his feet; it was never good to be slow in obeying the citizen agent's commands. He was half-asleep and no doubt numb with cold and long sitting still; to accelerate his movements he was suddenly gripped by the arm and dragged incontinently out of the coach. Then the door was slammed to again, either by a rough hand or a sudden gust of wind, Marguerite could not tell; she heard a cry of rage and one of terror, and Heron's raucous curses. She cowered in the corner of the carriage with Armand's head against her shoulder, and tried to close her ears to all those hideous sounds. Then suddenly all the sounds were hushed and all around everything became perfectly calm and still--so still that at first the silence oppressed her with a vague, nameless dread. It was as if Nature herself had paused, that she might listen; and the silence became more and more absolute, until Marguerite could hear Armand's soft, regular breathing close to her ear. The window nearest to her was open, and as she leaned forward with that paralysing sense of oppression a breath of pure air struck full upon her nostrils and brought with it a briny taste as if from the sea. It was not quite so dark; and there was a sense as of open country stretching out to the limits of the horizon. Overhead a vague greyish light suffused the sky, and the wind swept the clouds in great rolling banks right across that light. Marguerite gazed upward with a more calm feeling that was akin to gratitude. That pale light, though so wan and feeble, was thrice welcome after that inky blackness wherein shadows were less dark than the lights. She watched eagerly the bank of clouds driven by the dying gale. The light grew brighter and faintly golden, now the banks of clouds--storm-tossed and fleecy--raced past one another, parted and reunited like veils of unseen giant dancers waved by hands that controlled infinite space--advanced and rushed and slackened speed again--united and finally torn asunder to reveal the waning moon, honey-coloured and mysterious, rising as if from an invisible ocean far away. The wan pale light spread over the wide stretch of country, throwing over it as it spread dull tones of indigo and of blue. Here and there sparse, stunted trees with fringed gaunt arms bending to prevailing winds proclaimed the neighbourhood of the sea. Marguerite gazed on the picture which the waning moon had so suddenly revealed; but she gazed with eyes that knew not what they saw. The moon had risen on her right--there lay the east--and the coach must have been travelling due north, whereas Crecy... In the absolute silence that reigned she could perceive from far, very far away, the sound of a church clock striking the midnight hour; and now it seemed to her supersensitive senses that a firm footstep was treading the soft earth, a footstep that drew nearer--and then nearer still. Nature did pause to listen. The wind was hushed, the night-birds in the forest had gone to rest. Marguerite's heart beat so fast that its throbbings choked her, and a dizziness clouded her consciousness. But through this state of torpor she heard the opening of the carriage door, she felt the onrush of that pure, briny air, and she felt a long, burning kiss upon her hands. She thought then that she was really dead, and that God in His infinite love had opened to her the outer gates of Paradise. "My love!" she murmured. She was leaning back in the carriage and her eyes were closed, but she felt that firm fingers removed the irons from her wrists, and that a pair of warm lips were pressed there in their stead. "There, little woman, that's better so--is it not? Now let me get hold of poor old Armand!" It was Heaven, of course, else how could earth hold such heavenly joy? "Percy!" exclaimed Armand in an awed voice. "Hush, dear!" murmured Marguerite feebly; "we are in Heaven you and I--" Whereupon a ringing laugh woke the echoes of the silent night. "In Heaven, dear heart!" And the voice had a delicious earthly ring in its whole-hearted merriment. "Please God, you'll both be at Portel with me before dawn." Then she was indeed forced to believe. She put out her hands and groped for him, for it was dark inside the carriage; she groped, and felt his massive shoulders leaning across the body of the coach, while his fingers busied themselves with the irons on Armand's wrist. "Don't touch that brute's filthy coat with your dainty fingers, dear heart," he said gaily. "Great Lord! I have worn that wretch's clothes for over two hours; I feel as if the dirt had penetrated to my bones." Then with that gesture so habitual to him he took her head between his two hands, and drawing her to him until the wan light from without lit up the face that he worshipped, he gazed his fill into her eyes. She could only see the outline of his head silhouetted against the wind-tossed sky; she could not see his eyes, nor his lips, but she felt his nearness, and the happiness of that almost caused her to swoon. "Come out into the open, my lady fair," he murmured, and though she could not see, she could feel that he smiled; "let God's pure air blow through your hair and round your dear head. Then, if you can walk so far, there's a small half-way house close by here. I have knocked up the none too amiable host. You and Armand could have half an hour's rest there before we go further on our way." "But you, Percy?--are you safe?" "Yes, m'dear, we are all of us safe until morning-time enough to reach Le Portel, and to be aboard the Day-Dream before mine amiable friend M. Chambertin has discovered his worthy colleague lying gagged and bound inside the chapel of the Holy Sepulchre. By Gad! how old Heron will curse--the moment he can open his mouth!" He half helped, half lifted her out of the carriage. The strong pure air suddenly rushing right through to her lungs made her feel faint, and she almost fell. But it was good to feel herself falling, when one pair of arms amongst the millions on the earth were there to receive her. "Can you walk, dear heart?" he asked. "Lean well on me--it is not far, and the rest will do you good." "But you, Percy--" He laughed, and the most complete joy of living seemed to resound through that laugh. Her arm was in his, and for one moment he stood still while his eyes swept the far reaches of the country, the mellow distance still wrapped in its mantle of indigo, still untouched by the mysterious light of the waning moon. He pressed her arm against his heart, but his right hand was stretched out towards the black wall of the forest behind him, towards the dark crests of the pines in which the dying wind sent its last mournful sighs. "Dear heart," he said, and his voice quivered with the intensity of his excitement, "beyond the stretch of that wood, from far away over there, there are cries and moans of anguish that come to my ear even now. But for you, dear, I would cross that wood to-night and re-enter Paris to-morrow. But for you, dear--but for you," he reiterated earnestly as he pressed her closer to him, for a bitter cry had risen to her lips. She went on in silence. Her happiness was great--as great as was her pain. She had found him again, the man whom she worshipped, the husband whom she thought never to see again on earth. She had found him, and not even now--not after those terrible weeks of misery and suffering unspeakable--could she feel that love had triumphed over the wild, adventurous spirit, the reckless enthusiasm, the ardour of self-sacrifice. CHAPTER XLIX. THE LAND OF ELDORADO It seems that in the pocket of Heron's coat there was a letter-case with some few hundred francs. It was amusing to think that the brute's money helped to bribe the ill-tempered keeper of the half-way house to receive guests at midnight, and to ply them well with food, drink, and the shelter of a stuffy coffee-room. Marguerite sat silently beside her husband, her hand in his. Armand, opposite to them, had both elbows on the table. He looked pale and wan, with a bandage across his forehead, and his glowing eyes were resting on his chief. "Yes! you demmed young idiot," said Blakeney merrily, "you nearly upset my plan in the end, with your yelling and screaming outside the chapel gates." "I wanted to get to you, Percy. I thought those brutes had got you there inside that building." "Not they!" he exclaimed. "It was my friend Heron whom they had trussed and gagged, and whom my amiable friend M. Chambertin will find in there to-morrow morning. By Gad! I would go back if only for the pleasure of hearing Heron curse when first the gag is taken from his mouth." "But how was it all done, Percy? And there was de Batz--" "De Batz was part of the scheme I had planned for mine own escape before I knew that those brutes meant to take Marguerite and you as hostages for my good behaviour. What I hoped then was that under cover of a tussle or a fight I could somehow or other contrive to slip through their fingers. It was a chance, and you know my belief in bald-headed Fortune, with the one solitary hair. Well, I meant to grab that hair; and at the worst I could but die in the open and not caged in that awful hole like some noxious vermin. I knew that de Batz would rise to the bait. I told him in my letter that the Dauphin would be at the Chateau d'Ourde this night, but that I feared the revolutionary Government had got wind of this fact, and were sending an armed escort to bring the lad away. This letter Ffoulkes took to him; I knew that he would make a vigorous effort to get the Dauphin into his hands, and that during the scuffle that one hair on Fortune's head would for one second only, mayhap, come within my reach. I had so planned the expedition that we were bound to arrive at the forest of Boulogne by nightfall, and night is always a useful ally. But at the guard-house of the Rue Ste. Anne I realised for the first time that those brutes had pressed me into a tighter corner than I had pre-conceived." He paused, and once again that look of recklessness swept over his face, and his eyes--still hollow and circled--shone with the excitement of past memories. "I was such a weak, miserable wretch, then," he said, in answer to Marguerite's appeal. "I had to try and build up some strength, when--Heaven forgive me for the sacrilege--I had unwittingly risked your precious life, dear heart, in that blind endeavour to save mine own. By Gad! it was no easy task in that jolting vehicle with that noisome wretch beside me for sole company; yet I ate and I drank and I slept for three days and two nights, until the hour when in the darkness I struck Heron from behind, half-strangled him first, then gagged him, and finally slipped into his filthy coat and put that loathsome bandage across my head, and his battered hat above it all. The yell he gave when first I attacked him made every horse rear--you must remember it--the noise effectually drowned our last scuffle in the coach. Chauvelin was the only man who might have suspected what had occurred, but he had gone on ahead, and bald-headed Fortune had passed by me, and I had managed to grab its one hair. After that it was all quite easy. The sergeant and the soldiers had seen very little of Heron and nothing of me; it did not take a great effort to deceive them, and the darkness of the night was my most faithful friend. His raucous voice was not difficult to imitate, and darkness always muffles and changes every tone. Anyway, it was not likely that those loutish soldiers would even remotely suspect the trick that was being played on them. The citizen agent's orders were promptly and implicitly obeyed. The men never even thought to wonder that after insisting on an escort of twenty he should drive off with two prisoners and only two men to guard them. If they did wonder, it was not theirs to question. Those two troopers are spending an uncomfortable night somewhere in the forest of Boulogne, each tied to a tree, and some two leagues apart one from the other. And now," he added gaily, "en voiture, my fair lady; and you, too, Armand. 'Tis seven leagues to Le Portel, and we must be there before dawn." "Sir Andrew's intention was to make for Calais first, there to open communication with the Day-Dream and then for Le Portel," said Marguerite; "after that he meant to strike back for the Chateau d'Ourde in search of me." "Then we'll still find him at Le Portel--I shall know how to lay hands on him; but you two must get aboard the Day-Dream at once, for Ffoulkes and I can always look after ourselves." It was one hour after midnight when--refreshed with food and rest--Marguerite, Armand and Sir Percy left the half-way house. Marguerite was standing in the doorway ready to go. Percy and Armand had gone ahead to bring the coach along. "Percy," whispered Armand, "Marguerite does not know?" "Of course she does not, you young fool," retorted Percy lightly. "If you try and tell her I think I would smash your head." "But you--" said the young man with sudden vehemence; "can you bear the sight of me? My God! when I think--" "Don't think, my good Armand--not of that anyway. Only think of the woman for whose sake you committed a crime--if she is pure and good, woo her and win her--not just now, for it were foolish to go back to Paris after her, but anon, when she comes to England and all these past days are forgotten--then love her as much as you can, Armand. Learn your lesson of love better than I have learnt mine; do not cause Jeanne Lange those tears of anguish which my mad spirit brings to your sister's eyes. You were right, Armand, when you said that I do not know how to love!" But on board the Day-Dream, when all danger was past, Marguerite felt that he did. 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through the stillness of the night. Immediately after that the horses had been put at a more rapid pace, but it had seemed to Marguerite as if that one cry of pain had been repeated by several others which sounded more feeble and soon appeared to be dying away in the distance behind. The soldier who sat opposite to them must have heard the cry too, for he jumped up, as if wakened from sleep, and put his head out of the window. "Did you hear that cry, citizen?" he asked. But only a curse answered him, and a peremptory command not to lose sight of the prisoners by poking his head out of the window. "Did you hear the cry?" asked the soldier of Marguerite as he made haste to obey. "Yes! What could it be?" she murmured. "It seems dangerous to drive so fast in this darkness," muttered the soldier. After which remark he, with the stolidity peculiar to his kind, figuratively shrugged his shoulders, detaching himself, as it were, of the whole affair. "We should be out of the forest by now," he remarked in an undertone a little while later; "the way seemed shorter before." Just then the coach gave an unexpected lurch to one side, and after much groaning and creaking of axles and springs it came to a standstill, and the citizen agent was heard cursing loudly and then scrambling down from the box. The next moment the carriage-door was pulled open from without, and the harsh voice called out peremptorily: "Citizen soldier, here--quick!--quick!--curse you!--we'll have one of the horses down if you don't hurry!" The soldier struggled to his feet; it was never good to be slow in obeying the citizen agent's commands. He was half-asleep and no doubt numb with cold and long sitting still; to accelerate his movements he was suddenly gripped by the arm and dragged incontinently out of the coach. Then the door was slammed to again, either by a rough hand or a sudden gust of wind, Marguerite could not tell; she heard a cry of rage and one of terror, and Heron's raucous curses. She cowered in the corner of the carriage with Armand's head against her shoulder, and tried to close her ears to all those hideous sounds. Then suddenly all the sounds were hushed and all around everything became perfectly calm and still--so still that at first the silence oppressed her with a vague, nameless dread. It was as if Nature herself had paused, that she might listen; and the silence became more and more absolute, until Marguerite could hear Armand's soft, regular breathing close to her ear. The window nearest to her was open, and as she leaned forward with that paralysing sense of oppression a breath of pure air struck full upon her nostrils and brought with it a briny taste as if from the sea. It was not quite so dark; and there was a sense as of open country stretching out to the limits of the horizon. Overhead a vague greyish light suffused the sky, and the wind swept the clouds in great rolling banks right across that light. Marguerite gazed upward with a more calm feeling that was akin to gratitude. That pale light, though so wan and feeble, was thrice welcome after that inky blackness wherein shadows were less dark than the lights. She watched eagerly the bank of clouds driven by the dying gale. The light grew brighter and faintly golden, now the banks of clouds--storm-tossed and fleecy--raced past one another, parted and reunited like veils of unseen giant dancers waved by hands that controlled infinite space--advanced and rushed and slackened speed again--united and finally torn asunder to reveal the waning moon, honey-coloured and mysterious, rising as if from an invisible ocean far away. The wan pale light spread over the wide stretch of country, throwing over it as it spread dull tones of indigo and of blue. Here and there sparse, stunted trees with fringed gaunt arms bending to prevailing winds proclaimed the neighbourhood of the sea. Marguerite gazed on the picture which the waning moon had so suddenly revealed; but she gazed with eyes that knew not what they saw. The moon had risen on her right--there lay the east--and the coach must have been travelling due north, whereas Crecy... In the absolute silence that reigned she could perceive from far, very far away, the sound of a church clock striking the midnight hour; and now it seemed to her supersensitive senses that a firm footstep was treading the soft earth, a footstep that drew nearer--and then nearer still. Nature did pause to listen. The wind was hushed, the night-birds in the forest had gone to rest. Marguerite's heart beat so fast that its throbbings choked her, and a dizziness clouded her consciousness. But through this state of torpor she heard the opening of the carriage door, she felt the onrush of that pure, briny air, and she felt a long, burning kiss upon her hands. She thought then that she was really dead, and that God in His infinite love had opened to her the outer gates of Paradise. "My love!" she murmured. She was leaning back in the carriage and her eyes were closed, but she felt that firm fingers removed the irons from her wrists, and that a pair of warm lips were pressed there in their stead. "There, little woman, that's better so--is it not? Now let me get hold of poor old Armand!" It was Heaven, of course, else how could earth hold such heavenly joy? "Percy!" exclaimed Armand in an awed voice. "Hush, dear!" murmured Marguerite feebly; "we are in Heaven you and I--" Whereupon a ringing laugh woke the echoes of the silent night. "In Heaven, dear heart!" And the voice had a delicious earthly ring in its whole-hearted merriment. "Please God, you'll both be at Portel with me before dawn." Then she was indeed forced to believe. She put out her hands and groped for him, for it was dark inside the carriage; she groped, and felt his massive shoulders leaning across the body of the coach, while his fingers busied themselves with the irons on Armand's wrist. "Don't touch that brute's filthy coat with your dainty fingers, dear heart," he said gaily. "Great Lord! I have worn that wretch's clothes for over two hours; I feel as if the dirt had penetrated to my bones." Then with that gesture so habitual to him he took her head between his two hands, and drawing her to him until the wan light from without lit up the face that he worshipped, he gazed his fill into her eyes. She could only see the outline of his head silhouetted against the wind-tossed sky; she could not see his eyes, nor his lips, but she felt his nearness, and the happiness of that almost caused her to swoon. "Come out into the open, my lady fair," he murmured, and though she could not see, she could feel that he smiled; "let God's pure air blow through your hair and round your dear head. Then, if you can walk so far, there's a small half-way house close by here. I have knocked up the none too amiable host. You and Armand could have half an hour's rest there before we go further on our way." "But you, Percy?--are you safe?" "Yes, m'dear, we are all of us safe until morning-time enough to reach Le Portel, and to be aboard the Day-Dream before mine amiable friend M. Chambertin has discovered his worthy colleague lying gagged and bound inside the chapel of the Holy Sepulchre. By Gad! how old Heron will curse--the moment he can open his mouth!" He half helped, half lifted her out of the carriage. The strong pure air suddenly rushing right through to her lungs made her feel faint, and she almost fell. But it was good to feel herself falling, when one pair of arms amongst the millions on the earth were there to receive her. "Can you walk, dear heart?" he asked. "Lean well on me--it is not far, and the rest will do you good." "But you, Percy--" He laughed, and the most complete joy of living seemed to resound through that laugh. Her arm was in his, and for one moment he stood still while his eyes swept the far reaches of the country, the mellow distance still wrapped in its mantle of indigo, still untouched by the mysterious light of the waning moon. He pressed her arm against his heart, but his right hand was stretched out towards the black wall of the forest behind him, towards the dark crests of the pines in which the dying wind sent its last mournful sighs. "Dear heart," he said, and his voice quivered with the intensity of his excitement, "beyond the stretch of that wood, from far away over there, there are cries and moans of anguish that come to my ear even now. But for you, dear, I would cross that wood to-night and re-enter Paris to-morrow. But for you, dear--but for you," he reiterated earnestly as he pressed her closer to him, for a bitter cry had risen to her lips. She went on in silence. Her happiness was great--as great as was her pain. She had found him again, the man whom she worshipped, the husband whom she thought never to see again on earth. She had found him, and not even now--not after those terrible weeks of misery and suffering unspeakable--could she feel that love had triumphed over the wild, adventurous spirit, the reckless enthusiasm, the ardour of self-sacrifice. CHAPTER XLIX. THE LAND OF ELDORADO It seems that in the pocket of Heron's coat there was a letter-case with some few hundred francs. It was amusing to think that the brute's money helped to bribe the ill-tempered keeper of the half-way house to receive guests at midnight, and to ply them well with food, drink, and the shelter of a stuffy coffee-room. Marguerite sat silently beside her husband, her hand in his. Armand, opposite to them, had both elbows on the table. He looked pale and wan, with a bandage across his forehead, and his glowing eyes were resting on his chief. "Yes! you demmed young idiot," said Blakeney merrily, "you nearly upset my plan in the end, with your yelling and screaming outside the chapel gates." "I wanted to get to you, Percy. I thought those brutes had got you there inside that building." "Not they!" he exclaimed. "It was my friend Heron whom they had trussed and gagged, and whom my amiable friend M. Chambertin will find in there to-morrow morning. By Gad! I would go back if only for the pleasure of hearing Heron curse when first the gag is taken from his mouth." "But how was it all done, Percy? And there was de Batz--" "De Batz was part of the scheme I had planned for mine own escape before I knew that those brutes meant to take Marguerite and you as hostages for my good behaviour. What I hoped then was that under cover of a tussle or a fight I could somehow or other contrive to slip through their fingers. It was a chance, and you know my belief in bald-headed Fortune, with the one solitary hair. Well, I meant to grab that hair; and at the worst I could but die in the open and not caged in that awful hole like some noxious vermin. I knew that de Batz would rise to the bait. I told him in my letter that the Dauphin would be at the Chateau d'Ourde this night, but that I feared the revolutionary Government had got wind of this fact, and were sending an armed escort to bring the lad away. This letter Ffoulkes took to him; I knew that he would make a vigorous effort to get the Dauphin into his hands, and that during the scuffle that one hair on Fortune's head would for one second only, mayhap, come within my reach. I had so planned the expedition that we were bound to arrive at the forest of Boulogne by nightfall, and night is always a useful ally. But at the guard-house of the Rue Ste. Anne I realised for the first time that those brutes had pressed me into a tighter corner than I had pre-conceived." He paused, and once again that look of recklessness swept over his face, and his eyes--still hollow and circled--shone with the excitement of past memories. "I was such a weak, miserable wretch, then," he said, in answer to Marguerite's appeal. "I had to try and build up some strength, when--Heaven forgive me for the sacrilege--I had unwittingly risked your precious life, dear heart, in that blind endeavour to save mine own. By Gad! it was no easy task in that jolting vehicle with that noisome wretch beside me for sole company; yet I ate and I drank and I slept for three days and two nights, until the hour when in the darkness I struck Heron from behind, half-strangled him first, then gagged him, and finally slipped into his filthy coat and put that loathsome bandage across my head, and his battered hat above it all. The yell he gave when first I attacked him made every horse rear--you must remember it--the noise effectually drowned our last scuffle in the coach. Chauvelin was the only man who might have suspected what had occurred, but he had gone on ahead, and bald-headed Fortune had passed by me, and I had managed to grab its one hair. After that it was all quite easy. The sergeant and the soldiers had seen very little of Heron and nothing of me; it did not take a great effort to deceive them, and the darkness of the night was my most faithful friend. His raucous voice was not difficult to imitate, and darkness always muffles and changes every tone. Anyway, it was not likely that those loutish soldiers would even remotely suspect the trick that was being played on them. The citizen agent's orders were promptly and implicitly obeyed. The men never even thought to wonder that after insisting on an escort of twenty he should drive off with two prisoners and only two men to guard them. If they did wonder, it was not theirs to question. Those two troopers are spending an uncomfortable night somewhere in the forest of Boulogne, each tied to a tree, and some two leagues apart one from the other. And now," he added gaily, "en voiture, my fair lady; and you, too, Armand. 'Tis seven leagues to Le Portel, and we must be there before dawn." "Sir Andrew's intention was to make for Calais first, there to open communication with the Day-Dream and then for Le Portel," said Marguerite; "after that he meant to strike back for the Chateau d'Ourde in search of me." "Then we'll still find him at Le Portel--I shall know how to lay hands on him; but you two must get aboard the Day-Dream at once, for Ffoulkes and I can always look after ourselves." It was one hour after midnight when--refreshed with food and rest--Marguerite, Armand and Sir Percy left the half-way house. Marguerite was standing in the doorway ready to go. Percy and Armand had gone ahead to bring the coach along. "Percy," whispered Armand, "Marguerite does not know?" "Of course she does not, you young fool," retorted Percy lightly. "If you try and tell her I think I would smash your head." "But you--" said the young man with sudden vehemence; "can you bear the sight of me? My God! when I think--" "Don't think, my good Armand--not of that anyway. Only think of the woman for whose sake you committed a crime--if she is pure and good, woo her and win her--not just now, for it were foolish to go back to Paris after her, but anon, when she comes to England and all these past days are forgotten--then love her as much as you can, Armand. Learn your lesson of love better than I have learnt mine; do not cause Jeanne Lange those tears of anguish which my mad spirit brings to your sister's eyes. You were right, Armand, when you said that I do not know how to love!" But on board the Day-Dream, when all danger was past, Marguerite felt that he did. End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of El Dorado, by Baroness Orczy *** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK EL DORADO *** ***** This file should be named 1752.txt or 1752.zip ***** This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: http://www.gutenberg.org/1/7/5/1752/ Produced by An Anonymous Volunteer Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will be renamed. Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. 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through the stillness of the night. Immediately after that the horses had been put at a more rapid pace, but it had seemed to Marguerite as if that one cry of pain had been repeated by several others which sounded more feeble and soon appeared to be dying away in the distance behind. The soldier who sat opposite to them must have heard the cry too, for he jumped up, as if wakened from sleep, and put his head out of the window. "Did you hear that cry, citizen?" he asked. But only a curse answered him, and a peremptory command not to lose sight of the prisoners by poking his head out of the window. "Did you hear the cry?" asked the soldier of Marguerite as he made haste to obey. "Yes! What could it be?" she murmured. "It seems dangerous to drive so fast in this darkness," muttered the soldier. After which remark he, with the stolidity peculiar to his kind, figuratively shrugged his shoulders, detaching himself, as it were, of the whole affair. "We should be out of the forest by now," he remarked in an undertone a little while later; "the way seemed shorter before." Just then the coach gave an unexpected lurch to one side, and after much groaning and creaking of axles and springs it came to a standstill, and the citizen agent was heard cursing loudly and then scrambling down from the box. The next moment the carriage-door was pulled open from without, and the harsh voice called out peremptorily: "Citizen soldier, here--quick!--quick!--curse you!--we'll have one of the horses down if you don't hurry!" The soldier struggled to his feet; it was never good to be slow in obeying the citizen agent's commands. He was half-asleep and no doubt numb with cold and long sitting still; to accelerate his movements he was suddenly gripped by the arm and dragged incontinently out of the coach. Then the door was slammed to again, either by a rough hand or a sudden gust of wind, Marguerite could not tell; she heard a cry of rage and one of terror, and Heron's raucous curses. She cowered in the corner of the carriage with Armand's head against her shoulder, and tried to close her ears to all those hideous sounds. Then suddenly all the sounds were hushed and all around everything became perfectly calm and still--so still that at first the silence oppressed her with a vague, nameless dread. It was as if Nature herself had paused, that she might listen; and the silence became more and more absolute, until Marguerite could hear Armand's soft, regular breathing close to her ear. The window nearest to her was open, and as she leaned forward with that paralysing sense of oppression a breath of pure air struck full upon her nostrils and brought with it a briny taste as if from the sea. It was not quite so dark; and there was a sense as of open country stretching out to the limits of the horizon. Overhead a vague greyish light suffused the sky, and the wind swept the clouds in great rolling banks right across that light. Marguerite gazed upward with a more calm feeling that was akin to gratitude. That pale light, though so wan and feeble, was thrice welcome after that inky blackness wherein shadows were less dark than the lights. She watched eagerly the bank of clouds driven by the dying gale. The light grew brighter and faintly golden, now the banks of clouds--storm-tossed and fleecy--raced past one another, parted and reunited like veils of unseen giant dancers waved by hands that controlled infinite space--advanced and rushed and slackened speed again--united and finally torn asunder to reveal the waning moon, honey-coloured and mysterious, rising as if from an invisible ocean far away. The wan pale light spread over the wide stretch of country, throwing over it as it spread dull tones of indigo and of blue. Here and there sparse, stunted trees with fringed gaunt arms bending to prevailing winds proclaimed the neighbourhood of the sea. Marguerite gazed on the picture which the waning moon had so suddenly revealed; but she gazed with eyes that knew not what they saw. The moon had risen on her right--there lay the east--and the coach must have been travelling due north, whereas Crecy... In the absolute silence that reigned she could perceive from far, very far away, the sound of a church clock striking the midnight hour; and now it seemed to her supersensitive senses that a firm footstep was treading the soft earth, a footstep that drew nearer--and then nearer still. Nature did pause to listen. The wind was hushed, the night-birds in the forest had gone to rest. Marguerite's heart beat so fast that its throbbings choked her, and a dizziness clouded her consciousness. But through this state of torpor she heard the opening of the carriage door, she felt the onrush of that pure, briny air, and she felt a long, burning kiss upon her hands. She thought then that she was really dead, and that God in His infinite love had opened to her the outer gates of Paradise. "My love!" she murmured. She was leaning back in the carriage and her eyes were closed, but she felt that firm fingers removed the irons from her wrists, and that a pair of warm lips were pressed there in their stead. "There, little woman, that's better so--is it not? Now let me get hold of poor old Armand!" It was Heaven, of course, else how could earth hold such heavenly joy? "Percy!" exclaimed Armand in an awed voice. "Hush, dear!" murmured Marguerite feebly; "we are in Heaven you and I--" Whereupon a ringing laugh woke the echoes of the silent night. "In Heaven, dear heart!" And the voice had a delicious earthly ring in its whole-hearted merriment. "Please God, you'll both be at Portel with me before dawn." Then she was indeed forced to believe. She put out her hands and groped for him, for it was dark inside the carriage; she groped, and felt his massive shoulders leaning across the body of the coach, while his fingers busied themselves with the irons on Armand's wrist. "Don't touch that brute's filthy coat with your dainty fingers, dear heart," he said gaily. "Great Lord! I have worn that wretch's clothes for over two hours; I feel as if the dirt had penetrated to my bones." Then with that gesture so habitual to him he took her head between his two hands, and drawing her to him until the wan light from without lit up the face that he worshipped, he gazed his fill into her eyes. She could only see the outline of his head silhouetted against the wind-tossed sky; she could not see his eyes, nor his lips, but she felt his nearness, and the happiness of that almost caused her to swoon. "Come out into the open, my lady fair," he murmured, and though she could not see, she could feel that he smiled; "let God's pure air blow through your hair and round your dear head. Then, if you can walk so far, there's a small half-way house close by here. I have knocked up the none too amiable host. You and Armand could have half an hour's rest there before we go further on our way." "But you, Percy?--are you safe?" "Yes, m'dear, we are all of us safe until morning-time enough to reach Le Portel, and to be aboard the Day-Dream before mine amiable friend M. Chambertin has discovered his worthy colleague lying gagged and bound inside the chapel of the Holy Sepulchre. By Gad! how old Heron will curse--the moment he can open his mouth!" He half helped, half lifted her out of the carriage. The strong pure air suddenly rushing right through to her lungs made her feel faint, and she almost fell. But it was good to feel herself falling, when one pair of arms amongst the millions on the earth were there to receive her. "Can you walk, dear heart?" he asked. "Lean well on me--it is not far, and the rest will do you good." "But you, Percy--" He laughed, and the most complete joy of living seemed to resound through that laugh. Her arm was in his, and for one moment he stood still while his eyes swept the far reaches of the country, the mellow distance still wrapped in its mantle of indigo, still untouched by the mysterious light of the waning moon. He pressed her arm against his heart, but his right hand was stretched out towards the black wall of the forest behind him, towards the dark crests of the pines in which the dying wind sent its last mournful sighs. "Dear heart," he said, and his voice quivered with the intensity of his excitement, "beyond the stretch of that wood, from far away over there, there are cries and moans of anguish that come to my ear even now. But for you, dear, I would cross that wood to-night and re-enter Paris to-morrow. But for you, dear--but for you," he reiterated earnestly as he pressed her closer to him, for a bitter cry had risen to her lips. She went on in silence. Her happiness was great--as great as was her pain. She had found him again, the man whom she worshipped, the husband whom she thought never to see again on earth. She had found him, and not even now--not after those terrible weeks of misery and suffering unspeakable--could she feel that love had triumphed over the wild, adventurous spirit, the reckless enthusiasm, the ardour of self-sacrifice. CHAPTER XLIX. THE LAND OF ELDORADO It seems that in the pocket of Heron's coat there was a letter-case with some few hundred francs. It was amusing to think that the brute's money helped to bribe the ill-tempered keeper of the half-way house to receive guests at midnight, and to ply them well with food, drink, and the shelter of a stuffy coffee-room. Marguerite sat silently beside her husband, her hand in his. Armand, opposite to them, had both elbows on the table. He looked pale and wan, with a bandage across his forehead, and his glowing eyes were resting on his chief. "Yes! you demmed young idiot," said Blakeney merrily, "you nearly upset my plan in the end, with your yelling and screaming outside the chapel gates." "I wanted to get to you, Percy. I thought those brutes had got you there inside that building." "Not they!" he exclaimed. "It was my friend Heron whom they had trussed and gagged, and whom my amiable friend M. Chambertin will find in there to-morrow morning. By Gad! I would go back if only for the pleasure of hearing Heron curse when first the gag is taken from his mouth." "But how was it all done, Percy? And there was de Batz--" "De Batz was part of the scheme I had planned for mine own escape before I knew that those brutes meant to take Marguerite and you as hostages for my good behaviour. What I hoped then was that under cover of a tussle or a fight I could somehow or other contrive to slip through their fingers. It was a chance, and you know my belief in bald-headed Fortune, with the one solitary hair. Well, I meant to grab that hair; and at the worst I could but die in the open and not caged in that awful hole like some noxious vermin. I knew that de Batz would rise to the bait. I told him in my letter that the Dauphin would be at the Chateau d'Ourde this night, but that I feared the revolutionary Government had got wind of this fact, and were sending an armed escort to bring the lad away. This letter Ffoulkes took to him; I knew that he would make a vigorous effort to get the Dauphin into his hands, and that during the scuffle that one hair on Fortune's head would for one second only, mayhap, come within my reach. I had so planned the expedition that we were bound to arrive at the forest of Boulogne by nightfall, and night is always a useful ally. But at the guard-house of the Rue Ste. Anne I realised for the first time that those brutes had pressed me into a tighter corner than I had pre-conceived." He paused, and once again that look of recklessness swept over his face, and his eyes--still hollow and circled--shone with the excitement of past memories. "I was such a weak, miserable wretch, then," he said, in answer to Marguerite's appeal. "I had to try and build up some strength, when--Heaven forgive me for the sacrilege--I had unwittingly risked your precious life, dear heart, in that blind endeavour to save mine own. By Gad! it was no easy task in that jolting vehicle with that noisome wretch beside me for sole company; yet I ate and I drank and I slept for three days and two nights, until the hour when in the darkness I struck Heron from behind, half-strangled him first, then gagged him, and finally slipped into his filthy coat and put that loathsome bandage across my head, and his battered hat above it all. The yell he gave when first I attacked him made every horse rear--you must remember it--the noise effectually drowned our last scuffle in the coach. Chauvelin was the only man who might have suspected what had occurred, but he had gone on ahead, and bald-headed Fortune had passed by me, and I had managed to grab its one hair. After that it was all quite easy. The sergeant and the soldiers had seen very little of Heron and nothing of me; it did not take a great effort to deceive them, and the darkness of the night was my most faithful friend. His raucous voice was not difficult to imitate, and darkness always muffles and changes every tone. Anyway, it was not likely that those loutish soldiers would even remotely suspect the trick that was being played on them. The citizen agent's orders were promptly and implicitly obeyed. The men never even thought to wonder that after insisting on an escort of twenty he should drive off with two prisoners and only two men to guard them. If they did wonder, it was not theirs to question. Those two troopers are spending an uncomfortable night somewhere in the forest of Boulogne, each tied to a tree, and some two leagues apart one from the other. And now," he added gaily, "en voiture, my fair lady; and you, too, Armand. 'Tis seven leagues to Le Portel, and we must be there before dawn." "Sir Andrew's intention was to make for Calais first, there to open communication with the Day-Dream and then for Le Portel," said Marguerite; "after that he meant to strike back for the Chateau d'Ourde in search of me." "Then we'll still find him at Le Portel--I shall know how to lay hands on him; but you two must get aboard the Day-Dream at once, for Ffoulkes and I can always look after ourselves." It was one hour after midnight when--refreshed with food and rest--Marguerite, Armand and Sir Percy left the half-way house. Marguerite was standing in the doorway ready to go. Percy and Armand had gone ahead to bring the coach along. "Percy," whispered Armand, "Marguerite does not know?" "Of course she does not, you young fool," retorted Percy lightly. "If you try and tell her I think I would smash your head." "But you--" said the young man with sudden vehemence; "can you bear the sight of me? My God! when I think--" "Don't think, my good Armand--not of that anyway. Only think of the woman for whose sake you committed a crime--if she is pure and good, woo her and win her--not just now, for it were foolish to go back to Paris after her, but anon, when she comes to England and all these past days are forgotten--then love her as much as you can, Armand. Learn your lesson of love better than I have learnt mine; do not cause Jeanne Lange those tears of anguish which my mad spirit brings to your sister's eyes. You were right, Armand, when you said that I do not know how to love!" But on board the Day-Dream, when all danger was past, Marguerite felt that he did. End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of El Dorado, by Baroness Orczy *** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK EL DORADO *** ***** This file should be named 1752.txt or 1752.zip ***** This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: http://www.gutenberg.org/1/7/5/1752/ Produced by An Anonymous Volunteer Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will be renamed. Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. 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through the stillness of the night. Immediately after that the horses had been put at a more rapid pace, but it had seemed to Marguerite as if that one cry of pain had been repeated by several others which sounded more feeble and soon appeared to be dying away in the distance behind. The soldier who sat opposite to them must have heard the cry too, for he jumped up, as if wakened from sleep, and put his head out of the window. "Did you hear that cry, citizen?" he asked. But only a curse answered him, and a peremptory command not to lose sight of the prisoners by poking his head out of the window. "Did you hear the cry?" asked the soldier of Marguerite as he made haste to obey. "Yes! What could it be?" she murmured. "It seems dangerous to drive so fast in this darkness," muttered the soldier. After which remark he, with the stolidity peculiar to his kind, figuratively shrugged his shoulders, detaching himself, as it were, of the whole affair. "We should be out of the forest by now," he remarked in an undertone a little while later; "the way seemed shorter before." Just then the coach gave an unexpected lurch to one side, and after much groaning and creaking of axles and springs it came to a standstill, and the citizen agent was heard cursing loudly and then scrambling down from the box. The next moment the carriage-door was pulled open from without, and the harsh voice called out peremptorily: "Citizen soldier, here--quick!--quick!--curse you!--we'll have one of the horses down if you don't hurry!" The soldier struggled to his feet; it was never good to be slow in obeying the citizen agent's commands. He was half-asleep and no doubt numb with cold and long sitting still; to accelerate his movements he was suddenly gripped by the arm and dragged incontinently out of the coach. Then the door was slammed to again, either by a rough hand or a sudden gust of wind, Marguerite could not tell; she heard a cry of rage and one of terror, and Heron's raucous curses. She cowered in the corner of the carriage with Armand's head against her shoulder, and tried to close her ears to all those hideous sounds. Then suddenly all the sounds were hushed and all around everything became perfectly calm and still--so still that at first the silence oppressed her with a vague, nameless dread. It was as if Nature herself had paused, that she might listen; and the silence became more and more absolute, until Marguerite could hear Armand's soft, regular breathing close to her ear. The window nearest to her was open, and as she leaned forward with that paralysing sense of oppression a breath of pure air struck full upon her nostrils and brought with it a briny taste as if from the sea. It was not quite so dark; and there was a sense as of open country stretching out to the limits of the horizon. Overhead a vague greyish light suffused the sky, and the wind swept the clouds in great rolling banks right across that light. Marguerite gazed upward with a more calm feeling that was akin to gratitude. That pale light, though so wan and feeble, was thrice welcome after that inky blackness wherein shadows were less dark than the lights. She watched eagerly the bank of clouds driven by the dying gale. The light grew brighter and faintly golden, now the banks of clouds--storm-tossed and fleecy--raced past one another, parted and reunited like veils of unseen giant dancers waved by hands that controlled infinite space--advanced and rushed and slackened speed again--united and finally torn asunder to reveal the waning moon, honey-coloured and mysterious, rising as if from an invisible ocean far away. The wan pale light spread over the wide stretch of country, throwing over it as it spread dull tones of indigo and of blue. Here and there sparse, stunted trees with fringed gaunt arms bending to prevailing winds proclaimed the neighbourhood of the sea. Marguerite gazed on the picture which the waning moon had so suddenly revealed; but she gazed with eyes that knew not what they saw. The moon had risen on her right--there lay the east--and the coach must have been travelling due north, whereas Crecy... In the absolute silence that reigned she could perceive from far, very far away, the sound of a church clock striking the midnight hour; and now it seemed to her supersensitive senses that a firm footstep was treading the soft earth, a footstep that drew nearer--and then nearer still. Nature did pause to listen. The wind was hushed, the night-birds in the forest had gone to rest. Marguerite's heart beat so fast that its throbbings choked her, and a dizziness clouded her consciousness. But through this state of torpor she heard the opening of the carriage door, she felt the onrush of that pure, briny air, and she felt a long, burning kiss upon her hands. She thought then that she was really dead, and that God in His infinite love had opened to her the outer gates of Paradise. "My love!" she murmured. She was leaning back in the carriage and her eyes were closed, but she felt that firm fingers removed the irons from her wrists, and that a pair of warm lips were pressed there in their stead. "There, little woman, that's better so--is it not? Now let me get hold of poor old Armand!" It was Heaven, of course, else how could earth hold such heavenly joy? "Percy!" exclaimed Armand in an awed voice. "Hush, dear!" murmured Marguerite feebly; "we are in Heaven you and I--" Whereupon a ringing laugh woke the echoes of the silent night. "In Heaven, dear heart!" And the voice had a delicious earthly ring in its whole-hearted merriment. "Please God, you'll both be at Portel with me before dawn." Then she was indeed forced to believe. She put out her hands and groped for him, for it was dark inside the carriage; she groped, and felt his massive shoulders leaning across the body of the coach, while his fingers busied themselves with the irons on Armand's wrist. "Don't touch that brute's filthy coat with your dainty fingers, dear heart," he said gaily. "Great Lord! I have worn that wretch's clothes for over two hours; I feel as if the dirt had penetrated to my bones." Then with that gesture so habitual to him he took her head between his two hands, and drawing her to him until the wan light from without lit up the face that he worshipped, he gazed his fill into her eyes. She could only see the outline of his head silhouetted against the wind-tossed sky; she could not see his eyes, nor his lips, but she felt his nearness, and the happiness of that almost caused her to swoon. "Come out into the open, my lady fair," he murmured, and though she could not see, she could feel that he smiled; "let God's pure air blow through your hair and round your dear head. Then, if you can walk so far, there's a small half-way house close by here. I have knocked up the none too amiable host. You and Armand could have half an hour's rest there before we go further on our way." "But you, Percy?--are you safe?" "Yes, m'dear, we are all of us safe until morning-time enough to reach Le Portel, and to be aboard the Day-Dream before mine amiable friend M. Chambertin has discovered his worthy colleague lying gagged and bound inside the chapel of the Holy Sepulchre. By Gad! how old Heron will curse--the moment he can open his mouth!" He half helped, half lifted her out of the carriage. The strong pure air suddenly rushing right through to her lungs made her feel faint, and she almost fell. But it was good to feel herself falling, when one pair of arms amongst the millions on the earth were there to receive her. "Can you walk, dear heart?" he asked. "Lean well on me--it is not far, and the rest will do you good." "But you, Percy--" He laughed, and the most complete joy of living seemed to resound through that laugh. Her arm was in his, and for one moment he stood still while his eyes swept the far reaches of the country, the mellow distance still wrapped in its mantle of indigo, still untouched by the mysterious light of the waning moon. He pressed her arm against his heart, but his right hand was stretched out towards the black wall of the forest behind him, towards the dark crests of the pines in which the dying wind sent its last mournful sighs. "Dear heart," he said, and his voice quivered with the intensity of his excitement, "beyond the stretch of that wood, from far away over there, there are cries and moans of anguish that come to my ear even now. But for you, dear, I would cross that wood to-night and re-enter Paris to-morrow. But for you, dear--but for you," he reiterated earnestly as he pressed her closer to him, for a bitter cry had risen to her lips. She went on in silence. Her happiness was great--as great as was her pain. She had found him again, the man whom she worshipped, the husband whom she thought never to see again on earth. She had found him, and not even now--not after those terrible weeks of misery and suffering unspeakable--could she feel that love had triumphed over the wild, adventurous spirit, the reckless enthusiasm, the ardour of self-sacrifice. CHAPTER XLIX. THE LAND OF ELDORADO It seems that in the pocket of Heron's coat there was a letter-case with some few hundred francs. It was amusing to think that the brute's money helped to bribe the ill-tempered keeper of the half-way house to receive guests at midnight, and to ply them well with food, drink, and the shelter of a stuffy coffee-room. Marguerite sat silently beside her husband, her hand in his. Armand, opposite to them, had both elbows on the table. He looked pale and wan, with a bandage across his forehead, and his glowing eyes were resting on his chief. "Yes! you demmed young idiot," said Blakeney merrily, "you nearly upset my plan in the end, with your yelling and screaming outside the chapel gates." "I wanted to get to you, Percy. I thought those brutes had got you there inside that building." "Not they!" he exclaimed. "It was my friend Heron whom they had trussed and gagged, and whom my amiable friend M. Chambertin will find in there to-morrow morning. By Gad! I would go back if only for the pleasure of hearing Heron curse when first the gag is taken from his mouth." "But how was it all done, Percy? And there was de Batz--" "De Batz was part of the scheme I had planned for mine own escape before I knew that those brutes meant to take Marguerite and you as hostages for my good behaviour. What I hoped then was that under cover of a tussle or a fight I could somehow or other contrive to slip through their fingers. It was a chance, and you know my belief in bald-headed Fortune, with the one solitary hair. Well, I meant to grab that hair; and at the worst I could but die in the open and not caged in that awful hole like some noxious vermin. I knew that de Batz would rise to the bait. I told him in my letter that the Dauphin would be at the Chateau d'Ourde this night, but that I feared the revolutionary Government had got wind of this fact, and were sending an armed escort to bring the lad away. This letter Ffoulkes took to him; I knew that he would make a vigorous effort to get the Dauphin into his hands, and that during the scuffle that one hair on Fortune's head would for one second only, mayhap, come within my reach. I had so planned the expedition that we were bound to arrive at the forest of Boulogne by nightfall, and night is always a useful ally. But at the guard-house of the Rue Ste. Anne I realised for the first time that those brutes had pressed me into a tighter corner than I had pre-conceived." He paused, and once again that look of recklessness swept over his face, and his eyes--still hollow and circled--shone with the excitement of past memories. "I was such a weak, miserable wretch, then," he said, in answer to Marguerite's appeal. "I had to try and build up some strength, when--Heaven forgive me for the sacrilege--I had unwittingly risked your precious life, dear heart, in that blind endeavour to save mine own. By Gad! it was no easy task in that jolting vehicle with that noisome wretch beside me for sole company; yet I ate and I drank and I slept for three days and two nights, until the hour when in the darkness I struck Heron from behind, half-strangled him first, then gagged him, and finally slipped into his filthy coat and put that loathsome bandage across my head, and his battered hat above it all. The yell he gave when first I attacked him made every horse rear--you must remember it--the noise effectually drowned our last scuffle in the coach. Chauvelin was the only man who might have suspected what had occurred, but he had gone on ahead, and bald-headed Fortune had passed by me, and I had managed to grab its one hair. After that it was all quite easy. The sergeant and the soldiers had seen very little of Heron and nothing of me; it did not take a great effort to deceive them, and the darkness of the night was my most faithful friend. His raucous voice was not difficult to imitate, and darkness always muffles and changes every tone. Anyway, it was not likely that those loutish soldiers would even remotely suspect the trick that was being played on them. The citizen agent's orders were promptly and implicitly obeyed. The men never even thought to wonder that after insisting on an escort of twenty he should drive off with two prisoners and only two men to guard them. If they did wonder, it was not theirs to question. Those two troopers are spending an uncomfortable night somewhere in the forest of Boulogne, each tied to a tree, and some two leagues apart one from the other. And now," he added gaily, "en voiture, my fair lady; and you, too, Armand. 'Tis seven leagues to Le Portel, and we must be there before dawn." "Sir Andrew's intention was to make for Calais first, there to open communication with the Day-Dream and then for Le Portel," said Marguerite; "after that he meant to strike back for the Chateau d'Ourde in search of me." "Then we'll still find him at Le Portel--I shall know how to lay hands on him; but you two must get aboard the Day-Dream at once, for Ffoulkes and I can always look after ourselves." It was one hour after midnight when--refreshed with food and rest--Marguerite, Armand and Sir Percy left the half-way house. Marguerite was standing in the doorway ready to go. Percy and Armand had gone ahead to bring the coach along. "Percy," whispered Armand, "Marguerite does not know?" "Of course she does not, you young fool," retorted Percy lightly. "If you try and tell her I think I would smash your head." "But you--" said the young man with sudden vehemence; "can you bear the sight of me? My God! when I think--" "Don't think, my good Armand--not of that anyway. Only think of the woman for whose sake you committed a crime--if she is pure and good, woo her and win her--not just now, for it were foolish to go back to Paris after her, but anon, when she comes to England and all these past days are forgotten--then love her as much as you can, Armand. Learn your lesson of love better than I have learnt mine; do not cause Jeanne Lange those tears of anguish which my mad spirit brings to your sister's eyes. You were right, Armand, when you said that I do not know how to love!" But on board the Day-Dream, when all danger was past, Marguerite felt that he did. End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of El Dorado, by Baroness Orczy *** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK EL DORADO *** ***** This file should be named 1752.txt or 1752.zip ***** This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: http://www.gutenberg.org/1/7/5/1752/ Produced by An Anonymous Volunteer Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will be renamed. Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. 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through the stillness of the night. Immediately after that the horses had been put at a more rapid pace, but it had seemed to Marguerite as if that one cry of pain had been repeated by several others which sounded more feeble and soon appeared to be dying away in the distance behind. The soldier who sat opposite to them must have heard the cry too, for he jumped up, as if wakened from sleep, and put his head out of the window. "Did you hear that cry, citizen?" he asked. But only a curse answered him, and a peremptory command not to lose sight of the prisoners by poking his head out of the window. "Did you hear the cry?" asked the soldier of Marguerite as he made haste to obey. "Yes! What could it be?" she murmured. "It seems dangerous to drive so fast in this darkness," muttered the soldier. After which remark he, with the stolidity peculiar to his kind, figuratively shrugged his shoulders, detaching himself, as it were, of the whole affair. "We should be out of the forest by now," he remarked in an undertone a little while later; "the way seemed shorter before." Just then the coach gave an unexpected lurch to one side, and after much groaning and creaking of axles and springs it came to a standstill, and the citizen agent was heard cursing loudly and then scrambling down from the box. The next moment the carriage-door was pulled open from without, and the harsh voice called out peremptorily: "Citizen soldier, here--quick!--quick!--curse you!--we'll have one of the horses down if you don't hurry!" The soldier struggled to his feet; it was never good to be slow in obeying the citizen agent's commands. He was half-asleep and no doubt numb with cold and long sitting still; to accelerate his movements he was suddenly gripped by the arm and dragged incontinently out of the coach. Then the door was slammed to again, either by a rough hand or a sudden gust of wind, Marguerite could not tell; she heard a cry of rage and one of terror, and Heron's raucous curses. She cowered in the corner of the carriage with Armand's head against her shoulder, and tried to close her ears to all those hideous sounds. Then suddenly all the sounds were hushed and all around everything became perfectly calm and still--so still that at first the silence oppressed her with a vague, nameless dread. It was as if Nature herself had paused, that she might listen; and the silence became more and more absolute, until Marguerite could hear Armand's soft, regular breathing close to her ear. The window nearest to her was open, and as she leaned forward with that paralysing sense of oppression a breath of pure air struck full upon her nostrils and brought with it a briny taste as if from the sea. It was not quite so dark; and there was a sense as of open country stretching out to the limits of the horizon. Overhead a vague greyish light suffused the sky, and the wind swept the clouds in great rolling banks right across that light. Marguerite gazed upward with a more calm feeling that was akin to gratitude. That pale light, though so wan and feeble, was thrice welcome after that inky blackness wherein shadows were less dark than the lights. She watched eagerly the bank of clouds driven by the dying gale. The light grew brighter and faintly golden, now the banks of clouds--storm-tossed and fleecy--raced past one another, parted and reunited like veils of unseen giant dancers waved by hands that controlled infinite space--advanced and rushed and slackened speed again--united and finally torn asunder to reveal the waning moon, honey-coloured and mysterious, rising as if from an invisible ocean far away. The wan pale light spread over the wide stretch of country, throwing over it as it spread dull tones of indigo and of blue. Here and there sparse, stunted trees with fringed gaunt arms bending to prevailing winds proclaimed the neighbourhood of the sea. Marguerite gazed on the picture which the waning moon had so suddenly revealed; but she gazed with eyes that knew not what they saw. The moon had risen on her right--there lay the east--and the coach must have been travelling due north, whereas Crecy... In the absolute silence that reigned she could perceive from far, very far away, the sound of a church clock striking the midnight hour; and now it seemed to her supersensitive senses that a firm footstep was treading the soft earth, a footstep that drew nearer--and then nearer still. Nature did pause to listen. The wind was hushed, the night-birds in the forest had gone to rest. Marguerite's heart beat so fast that its throbbings choked her, and a dizziness clouded her consciousness. But through this state of torpor she heard the opening of the carriage door, she felt the onrush of that pure, briny air, and she felt a long, burning kiss upon her hands. She thought then that she was really dead, and that God in His infinite love had opened to her the outer gates of Paradise. "My love!" she murmured. She was leaning back in the carriage and her eyes were closed, but she felt that firm fingers removed the irons from her wrists, and that a pair of warm lips were pressed there in their stead. "There, little woman, that's better so--is it not? Now let me get hold of poor old Armand!" It was Heaven, of course, else how could earth hold such heavenly joy? "Percy!" exclaimed Armand in an awed voice. "Hush, dear!" murmured Marguerite feebly; "we are in Heaven you and I--" Whereupon a ringing laugh woke the echoes of the silent night. "In Heaven, dear heart!" And the voice had a delicious earthly ring in its whole-hearted merriment. "Please God, you'll both be at Portel with me before dawn." Then she was indeed forced to believe. She put out her hands and groped for him, for it was dark inside the carriage; she groped, and felt his massive shoulders leaning across the body of the coach, while his fingers busied themselves with the irons on Armand's wrist. "Don't touch that brute's filthy coat with your dainty fingers, dear heart," he said gaily. "Great Lord! I have worn that wretch's clothes for over two hours; I feel as if the dirt had penetrated to my bones." Then with that gesture so habitual to him he took her head between his two hands, and drawing her to him until the wan light from without lit up the face that he worshipped, he gazed his fill into her eyes. She could only see the outline of his head silhouetted against the wind-tossed sky; she could not see his eyes, nor his lips, but she felt his nearness, and the happiness of that almost caused her to swoon. "Come out into the open, my lady fair," he murmured, and though she could not see, she could feel that he smiled; "let God's pure air blow through your hair and round your dear head. Then, if you can walk so far, there's a small half-way house close by here. I have knocked up the none too amiable host. You and Armand could have half an hour's rest there before we go further on our way." "But you, Percy?--are you safe?" "Yes, m'dear, we are all of us safe until morning-time enough to reach Le Portel, and to be aboard the Day-Dream before mine amiable friend M. Chambertin has discovered his worthy colleague lying gagged and bound inside the chapel of the Holy Sepulchre. By Gad! how old Heron will curse--the moment he can open his mouth!" He half helped, half lifted her out of the carriage. The strong pure air suddenly rushing right through to her lungs made her feel faint, and she almost fell. But it was good to feel herself falling, when one pair of arms amongst the millions on the earth were there to receive her. "Can you walk, dear heart?" he asked. "Lean well on me--it is not far, and the rest will do you good." "But you, Percy--" He laughed, and the most complete joy of living seemed to resound through that laugh. Her arm was in his, and for one moment he stood still while his eyes swept the far reaches of the country, the mellow distance still wrapped in its mantle of indigo, still untouched by the mysterious light of the waning moon. He pressed her arm against his heart, but his right hand was stretched out towards the black wall of the forest behind him, towards the dark crests of the pines in which the dying wind sent its last mournful sighs. "Dear heart," he said, and his voice quivered with the intensity of his excitement, "beyond the stretch of that wood, from far away over there, there are cries and moans of anguish that come to my ear even now. But for you, dear, I would cross that wood to-night and re-enter Paris to-morrow. But for you, dear--but for you," he reiterated earnestly as he pressed her closer to him, for a bitter cry had risen to her lips. She went on in silence. Her happiness was great--as great as was her pain. She had found him again, the man whom she worshipped, the husband whom she thought never to see again on earth. She had found him, and not even now--not after those terrible weeks of misery and suffering unspeakable--could she feel that love had triumphed over the wild, adventurous spirit, the reckless enthusiasm, the ardour of self-sacrifice. CHAPTER XLIX. THE LAND OF ELDORADO It seems that in the pocket of Heron's coat there was a letter-case with some few hundred francs. It was amusing to think that the brute's money helped to bribe the ill-tempered keeper of the half-way house to receive guests at midnight, and to ply them well with food, drink, and the shelter of a stuffy coffee-room. Marguerite sat silently beside her husband, her hand in his. Armand, opposite to them, had both elbows on the table. He looked pale and wan, with a bandage across his forehead, and his glowing eyes were resting on his chief. "Yes! you demmed young idiot," said Blakeney merrily, "you nearly upset my plan in the end, with your yelling and screaming outside the chapel gates." "I wanted to get to you, Percy. I thought those brutes had got you there inside that building." "Not they!" he exclaimed. "It was my friend Heron whom they had trussed and gagged, and whom my amiable friend M. Chambertin will find in there to-morrow morning. By Gad! I would go back if only for the pleasure of hearing Heron curse when first the gag is taken from his mouth." "But how was it all done, Percy? And there was de Batz--" "De Batz was part of the scheme I had planned for mine own escape before I knew that those brutes meant to take Marguerite and you as hostages for my good behaviour. What I hoped then was that under cover of a tussle or a fight I could somehow or other contrive to slip through their fingers. It was a chance, and you know my belief in bald-headed Fortune, with the one solitary hair. Well, I meant to grab that hair; and at the worst I could but die in the open and not caged in that awful hole like some noxious vermin. I knew that de Batz would rise to the bait. I told him in my letter that the Dauphin would be at the Chateau d'Ourde this night, but that I feared the revolutionary Government had got wind of this fact, and were sending an armed escort to bring the lad away. This letter Ffoulkes took to him; I knew that he would make a vigorous effort to get the Dauphin into his hands, and that during the scuffle that one hair on Fortune's head would for one second only, mayhap, come within my reach. I had so planned the expedition that we were bound to arrive at the forest of Boulogne by nightfall, and night is always a useful ally. But at the guard-house of the Rue Ste. Anne I realised for the first time that those brutes had pressed me into a tighter corner than I had pre-conceived." He paused, and once again that look of recklessness swept over his face, and his eyes--still hollow and circled--shone with the excitement of past memories. "I was such a weak, miserable wretch, then," he said, in answer to Marguerite's appeal. "I had to try and build up some strength, when--Heaven forgive me for the sacrilege--I had unwittingly risked your precious life, dear heart, in that blind endeavour to save mine own. By Gad! it was no easy task in that jolting vehicle with that noisome wretch beside me for sole company; yet I ate and I drank and I slept for three days and two nights, until the hour when in the darkness I struck Heron from behind, half-strangled him first, then gagged him, and finally slipped into his filthy coat and put that loathsome bandage across my head, and his battered hat above it all. The yell he gave when first I attacked him made every horse rear--you must remember it--the noise effectually drowned our last scuffle in the coach. Chauvelin was the only man who might have suspected what had occurred, but he had gone on ahead, and bald-headed Fortune had passed by me, and I had managed to grab its one hair. After that it was all quite easy. The sergeant and the soldiers had seen very little of Heron and nothing of me; it did not take a great effort to deceive them, and the darkness of the night was my most faithful friend. His raucous voice was not difficult to imitate, and darkness always muffles and changes every tone. Anyway, it was not likely that those loutish soldiers would even remotely suspect the trick that was being played on them. The citizen agent's orders were promptly and implicitly obeyed. The men never even thought to wonder that after insisting on an escort of twenty he should drive off with two prisoners and only two men to guard them. If they did wonder, it was not theirs to question. Those two troopers are spending an uncomfortable night somewhere in the forest of Boulogne, each tied to a tree, and some two leagues apart one from the other. And now," he added gaily, "en voiture, my fair lady; and you, too, Armand. 'Tis seven leagues to Le Portel, and we must be there before dawn." "Sir Andrew's intention was to make for Calais first, there to open communication with the Day-Dream and then for Le Portel," said Marguerite; "after that he meant to strike back for the Chateau d'Ourde in search of me." "Then we'll still find him at Le Portel--I shall know how to lay hands on him; but you two must get aboard the Day-Dream at once, for Ffoulkes and I can always look after ourselves." It was one hour after midnight when--refreshed with food and rest--Marguerite, Armand and Sir Percy left the half-way house. Marguerite was standing in the doorway ready to go. Percy and Armand had gone ahead to bring the coach along. "Percy," whispered Armand, "Marguerite does not know?" "Of course she does not, you young fool," retorted Percy lightly. "If you try and tell her I think I would smash your head." "But you--" said the young man with sudden vehemence; "can you bear the sight of me? My God! when I think--" "Don't think, my good Armand--not of that anyway. Only think of the woman for whose sake you committed a crime--if she is pure and good, woo her and win her--not just now, for it were foolish to go back to Paris after her, but anon, when she comes to England and all these past days are forgotten--then love her as much as you can, Armand. Learn your lesson of love better than I have learnt mine; do not cause Jeanne Lange those tears of anguish which my mad spirit brings to your sister's eyes. You were right, Armand, when you said that I do not know how to love!" But on board the Day-Dream, when all danger was past, Marguerite felt that he did. 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clock

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through the stillness of the night. Immediately after that the horses had been put at a more rapid pace, but it had seemed to Marguerite as if that one cry of pain had been repeated by several others which sounded more feeble and soon appeared to be dying away in the distance behind. The soldier who sat opposite to them must have heard the cry too, for he jumped up, as if wakened from sleep, and put his head out of the window. "Did you hear that cry, citizen?" he asked. But only a curse answered him, and a peremptory command not to lose sight of the prisoners by poking his head out of the window. "Did you hear the cry?" asked the soldier of Marguerite as he made haste to obey. "Yes! What could it be?" she murmured. "It seems dangerous to drive so fast in this darkness," muttered the soldier. After which remark he, with the stolidity peculiar to his kind, figuratively shrugged his shoulders, detaching himself, as it were, of the whole affair. "We should be out of the forest by now," he remarked in an undertone a little while later; "the way seemed shorter before." Just then the coach gave an unexpected lurch to one side, and after much groaning and creaking of axles and springs it came to a standstill, and the citizen agent was heard cursing loudly and then scrambling down from the box. The next moment the carriage-door was pulled open from without, and the harsh voice called out peremptorily: "Citizen soldier, here--quick!--quick!--curse you!--we'll have one of the horses down if you don't hurry!" The soldier struggled to his feet; it was never good to be slow in obeying the citizen agent's commands. He was half-asleep and no doubt numb with cold and long sitting still; to accelerate his movements he was suddenly gripped by the arm and dragged incontinently out of the coach. Then the door was slammed to again, either by a rough hand or a sudden gust of wind, Marguerite could not tell; she heard a cry of rage and one of terror, and Heron's raucous curses. She cowered in the corner of the carriage with Armand's head against her shoulder, and tried to close her ears to all those hideous sounds. Then suddenly all the sounds were hushed and all around everything became perfectly calm and still--so still that at first the silence oppressed her with a vague, nameless dread. It was as if Nature herself had paused, that she might listen; and the silence became more and more absolute, until Marguerite could hear Armand's soft, regular breathing close to her ear. The window nearest to her was open, and as she leaned forward with that paralysing sense of oppression a breath of pure air struck full upon her nostrils and brought with it a briny taste as if from the sea. It was not quite so dark; and there was a sense as of open country stretching out to the limits of the horizon. Overhead a vague greyish light suffused the sky, and the wind swept the clouds in great rolling banks right across that light. Marguerite gazed upward with a more calm feeling that was akin to gratitude. That pale light, though so wan and feeble, was thrice welcome after that inky blackness wherein shadows were less dark than the lights. She watched eagerly the bank of clouds driven by the dying gale. The light grew brighter and faintly golden, now the banks of clouds--storm-tossed and fleecy--raced past one another, parted and reunited like veils of unseen giant dancers waved by hands that controlled infinite space--advanced and rushed and slackened speed again--united and finally torn asunder to reveal the waning moon, honey-coloured and mysterious, rising as if from an invisible ocean far away. The wan pale light spread over the wide stretch of country, throwing over it as it spread dull tones of indigo and of blue. Here and there sparse, stunted trees with fringed gaunt arms bending to prevailing winds proclaimed the neighbourhood of the sea. Marguerite gazed on the picture which the waning moon had so suddenly revealed; but she gazed with eyes that knew not what they saw. The moon had risen on her right--there lay the east--and the coach must have been travelling due north, whereas Crecy... In the absolute silence that reigned she could perceive from far, very far away, the sound of a church clock striking the midnight hour; and now it seemed to her supersensitive senses that a firm footstep was treading the soft earth, a footstep that drew nearer--and then nearer still. Nature did pause to listen. The wind was hushed, the night-birds in the forest had gone to rest. Marguerite's heart beat so fast that its throbbings choked her, and a dizziness clouded her consciousness. But through this state of torpor she heard the opening of the carriage door, she felt the onrush of that pure, briny air, and she felt a long, burning kiss upon her hands. She thought then that she was really dead, and that God in His infinite love had opened to her the outer gates of Paradise. "My love!" she murmured. She was leaning back in the carriage and her eyes were closed, but she felt that firm fingers removed the irons from her wrists, and that a pair of warm lips were pressed there in their stead. "There, little woman, that's better so--is it not? Now let me get hold of poor old Armand!" It was Heaven, of course, else how could earth hold such heavenly joy? "Percy!" exclaimed Armand in an awed voice. "Hush, dear!" murmured Marguerite feebly; "we are in Heaven you and I--" Whereupon a ringing laugh woke the echoes of the silent night. "In Heaven, dear heart!" And the voice had a delicious earthly ring in its whole-hearted merriment. "Please God, you'll both be at Portel with me before dawn." Then she was indeed forced to believe. She put out her hands and groped for him, for it was dark inside the carriage; she groped, and felt his massive shoulders leaning across the body of the coach, while his fingers busied themselves with the irons on Armand's wrist. "Don't touch that brute's filthy coat with your dainty fingers, dear heart," he said gaily. "Great Lord! I have worn that wretch's clothes for over two hours; I feel as if the dirt had penetrated to my bones." Then with that gesture so habitual to him he took her head between his two hands, and drawing her to him until the wan light from without lit up the face that he worshipped, he gazed his fill into her eyes. She could only see the outline of his head silhouetted against the wind-tossed sky; she could not see his eyes, nor his lips, but she felt his nearness, and the happiness of that almost caused her to swoon. "Come out into the open, my lady fair," he murmured, and though she could not see, she could feel that he smiled; "let God's pure air blow through your hair and round your dear head. Then, if you can walk so far, there's a small half-way house close by here. I have knocked up the none too amiable host. You and Armand could have half an hour's rest there before we go further on our way." "But you, Percy?--are you safe?" "Yes, m'dear, we are all of us safe until morning-time enough to reach Le Portel, and to be aboard the Day-Dream before mine amiable friend M. Chambertin has discovered his worthy colleague lying gagged and bound inside the chapel of the Holy Sepulchre. By Gad! how old Heron will curse--the moment he can open his mouth!" He half helped, half lifted her out of the carriage. The strong pure air suddenly rushing right through to her lungs made her feel faint, and she almost fell. But it was good to feel herself falling, when one pair of arms amongst the millions on the earth were there to receive her. "Can you walk, dear heart?" he asked. "Lean well on me--it is not far, and the rest will do you good." "But you, Percy--" He laughed, and the most complete joy of living seemed to resound through that laugh. Her arm was in his, and for one moment he stood still while his eyes swept the far reaches of the country, the mellow distance still wrapped in its mantle of indigo, still untouched by the mysterious light of the waning moon. He pressed her arm against his heart, but his right hand was stretched out towards the black wall of the forest behind him, towards the dark crests of the pines in which the dying wind sent its last mournful sighs. "Dear heart," he said, and his voice quivered with the intensity of his excitement, "beyond the stretch of that wood, from far away over there, there are cries and moans of anguish that come to my ear even now. But for you, dear, I would cross that wood to-night and re-enter Paris to-morrow. But for you, dear--but for you," he reiterated earnestly as he pressed her closer to him, for a bitter cry had risen to her lips. She went on in silence. Her happiness was great--as great as was her pain. She had found him again, the man whom she worshipped, the husband whom she thought never to see again on earth. She had found him, and not even now--not after those terrible weeks of misery and suffering unspeakable--could she feel that love had triumphed over the wild, adventurous spirit, the reckless enthusiasm, the ardour of self-sacrifice. CHAPTER XLIX. THE LAND OF ELDORADO It seems that in the pocket of Heron's coat there was a letter-case with some few hundred francs. It was amusing to think that the brute's money helped to bribe the ill-tempered keeper of the half-way house to receive guests at midnight, and to ply them well with food, drink, and the shelter of a stuffy coffee-room. Marguerite sat silently beside her husband, her hand in his. Armand, opposite to them, had both elbows on the table. He looked pale and wan, with a bandage across his forehead, and his glowing eyes were resting on his chief. "Yes! you demmed young idiot," said Blakeney merrily, "you nearly upset my plan in the end, with your yelling and screaming outside the chapel gates." "I wanted to get to you, Percy. I thought those brutes had got you there inside that building." "Not they!" he exclaimed. "It was my friend Heron whom they had trussed and gagged, and whom my amiable friend M. Chambertin will find in there to-morrow morning. By Gad! I would go back if only for the pleasure of hearing Heron curse when first the gag is taken from his mouth." "But how was it all done, Percy? And there was de Batz--" "De Batz was part of the scheme I had planned for mine own escape before I knew that those brutes meant to take Marguerite and you as hostages for my good behaviour. What I hoped then was that under cover of a tussle or a fight I could somehow or other contrive to slip through their fingers. It was a chance, and you know my belief in bald-headed Fortune, with the one solitary hair. Well, I meant to grab that hair; and at the worst I could but die in the open and not caged in that awful hole like some noxious vermin. I knew that de Batz would rise to the bait. I told him in my letter that the Dauphin would be at the Chateau d'Ourde this night, but that I feared the revolutionary Government had got wind of this fact, and were sending an armed escort to bring the lad away. This letter Ffoulkes took to him; I knew that he would make a vigorous effort to get the Dauphin into his hands, and that during the scuffle that one hair on Fortune's head would for one second only, mayhap, come within my reach. I had so planned the expedition that we were bound to arrive at the forest of Boulogne by nightfall, and night is always a useful ally. But at the guard-house of the Rue Ste. Anne I realised for the first time that those brutes had pressed me into a tighter corner than I had pre-conceived." He paused, and once again that look of recklessness swept over his face, and his eyes--still hollow and circled--shone with the excitement of past memories. "I was such a weak, miserable wretch, then," he said, in answer to Marguerite's appeal. "I had to try and build up some strength, when--Heaven forgive me for the sacrilege--I had unwittingly risked your precious life, dear heart, in that blind endeavour to save mine own. By Gad! it was no easy task in that jolting vehicle with that noisome wretch beside me for sole company; yet I ate and I drank and I slept for three days and two nights, until the hour when in the darkness I struck Heron from behind, half-strangled him first, then gagged him, and finally slipped into his filthy coat and put that loathsome bandage across my head, and his battered hat above it all. The yell he gave when first I attacked him made every horse rear--you must remember it--the noise effectually drowned our last scuffle in the coach. Chauvelin was the only man who might have suspected what had occurred, but he had gone on ahead, and bald-headed Fortune had passed by me, and I had managed to grab its one hair. After that it was all quite easy. The sergeant and the soldiers had seen very little of Heron and nothing of me; it did not take a great effort to deceive them, and the darkness of the night was my most faithful friend. His raucous voice was not difficult to imitate, and darkness always muffles and changes every tone. Anyway, it was not likely that those loutish soldiers would even remotely suspect the trick that was being played on them. The citizen agent's orders were promptly and implicitly obeyed. The men never even thought to wonder that after insisting on an escort of twenty he should drive off with two prisoners and only two men to guard them. If they did wonder, it was not theirs to question. Those two troopers are spending an uncomfortable night somewhere in the forest of Boulogne, each tied to a tree, and some two leagues apart one from the other. And now," he added gaily, "en voiture, my fair lady; and you, too, Armand. 'Tis seven leagues to Le Portel, and we must be there before dawn." "Sir Andrew's intention was to make for Calais first, there to open communication with the Day-Dream and then for Le Portel," said Marguerite; "after that he meant to strike back for the Chateau d'Ourde in search of me." "Then we'll still find him at Le Portel--I shall know how to lay hands on him; but you two must get aboard the Day-Dream at once, for Ffoulkes and I can always look after ourselves." It was one hour after midnight when--refreshed with food and rest--Marguerite, Armand and Sir Percy left the half-way house. Marguerite was standing in the doorway ready to go. Percy and Armand had gone ahead to bring the coach along. "Percy," whispered Armand, "Marguerite does not know?" "Of course she does not, you young fool," retorted Percy lightly. "If you try and tell her I think I would smash your head." "But you--" said the young man with sudden vehemence; "can you bear the sight of me? My God! when I think--" "Don't think, my good Armand--not of that anyway. Only think of the woman for whose sake you committed a crime--if she is pure and good, woo her and win her--not just now, for it were foolish to go back to Paris after her, but anon, when she comes to England and all these past days are forgotten--then love her as much as you can, Armand. Learn your lesson of love better than I have learnt mine; do not cause Jeanne Lange those tears of anguish which my mad spirit brings to your sister's eyes. You were right, Armand, when you said that I do not know how to love!" But on board the Day-Dream, when all danger was past, Marguerite felt that he did. End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of El Dorado, by Baroness Orczy *** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK EL DORADO *** ***** This file should be named 1752.txt or 1752.zip ***** This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: http://www.gutenberg.org/1/7/5/1752/ Produced by An Anonymous Volunteer Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will be renamed. Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. 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win

How many times the word 'win' appears in the text?

through the stillness of the night. Immediately after that the horses had been put at a more rapid pace, but it had seemed to Marguerite as if that one cry of pain had been repeated by several others which sounded more feeble and soon appeared to be dying away in the distance behind. The soldier who sat opposite to them must have heard the cry too, for he jumped up, as if wakened from sleep, and put his head out of the window. "Did you hear that cry, citizen?" he asked. But only a curse answered him, and a peremptory command not to lose sight of the prisoners by poking his head out of the window. "Did you hear the cry?" asked the soldier of Marguerite as he made haste to obey. "Yes! What could it be?" she murmured. "It seems dangerous to drive so fast in this darkness," muttered the soldier. After which remark he, with the stolidity peculiar to his kind, figuratively shrugged his shoulders, detaching himself, as it were, of the whole affair. "We should be out of the forest by now," he remarked in an undertone a little while later; "the way seemed shorter before." Just then the coach gave an unexpected lurch to one side, and after much groaning and creaking of axles and springs it came to a standstill, and the citizen agent was heard cursing loudly and then scrambling down from the box. The next moment the carriage-door was pulled open from without, and the harsh voice called out peremptorily: "Citizen soldier, here--quick!--quick!--curse you!--we'll have one of the horses down if you don't hurry!" The soldier struggled to his feet; it was never good to be slow in obeying the citizen agent's commands. He was half-asleep and no doubt numb with cold and long sitting still; to accelerate his movements he was suddenly gripped by the arm and dragged incontinently out of the coach. Then the door was slammed to again, either by a rough hand or a sudden gust of wind, Marguerite could not tell; she heard a cry of rage and one of terror, and Heron's raucous curses. She cowered in the corner of the carriage with Armand's head against her shoulder, and tried to close her ears to all those hideous sounds. Then suddenly all the sounds were hushed and all around everything became perfectly calm and still--so still that at first the silence oppressed her with a vague, nameless dread. It was as if Nature herself had paused, that she might listen; and the silence became more and more absolute, until Marguerite could hear Armand's soft, regular breathing close to her ear. The window nearest to her was open, and as she leaned forward with that paralysing sense of oppression a breath of pure air struck full upon her nostrils and brought with it a briny taste as if from the sea. It was not quite so dark; and there was a sense as of open country stretching out to the limits of the horizon. Overhead a vague greyish light suffused the sky, and the wind swept the clouds in great rolling banks right across that light. Marguerite gazed upward with a more calm feeling that was akin to gratitude. That pale light, though so wan and feeble, was thrice welcome after that inky blackness wherein shadows were less dark than the lights. She watched eagerly the bank of clouds driven by the dying gale. The light grew brighter and faintly golden, now the banks of clouds--storm-tossed and fleecy--raced past one another, parted and reunited like veils of unseen giant dancers waved by hands that controlled infinite space--advanced and rushed and slackened speed again--united and finally torn asunder to reveal the waning moon, honey-coloured and mysterious, rising as if from an invisible ocean far away. The wan pale light spread over the wide stretch of country, throwing over it as it spread dull tones of indigo and of blue. Here and there sparse, stunted trees with fringed gaunt arms bending to prevailing winds proclaimed the neighbourhood of the sea. Marguerite gazed on the picture which the waning moon had so suddenly revealed; but she gazed with eyes that knew not what they saw. The moon had risen on her right--there lay the east--and the coach must have been travelling due north, whereas Crecy... In the absolute silence that reigned she could perceive from far, very far away, the sound of a church clock striking the midnight hour; and now it seemed to her supersensitive senses that a firm footstep was treading the soft earth, a footstep that drew nearer--and then nearer still. Nature did pause to listen. The wind was hushed, the night-birds in the forest had gone to rest. Marguerite's heart beat so fast that its throbbings choked her, and a dizziness clouded her consciousness. But through this state of torpor she heard the opening of the carriage door, she felt the onrush of that pure, briny air, and she felt a long, burning kiss upon her hands. She thought then that she was really dead, and that God in His infinite love had opened to her the outer gates of Paradise. "My love!" she murmured. She was leaning back in the carriage and her eyes were closed, but she felt that firm fingers removed the irons from her wrists, and that a pair of warm lips were pressed there in their stead. "There, little woman, that's better so--is it not? Now let me get hold of poor old Armand!" It was Heaven, of course, else how could earth hold such heavenly joy? "Percy!" exclaimed Armand in an awed voice. "Hush, dear!" murmured Marguerite feebly; "we are in Heaven you and I--" Whereupon a ringing laugh woke the echoes of the silent night. "In Heaven, dear heart!" And the voice had a delicious earthly ring in its whole-hearted merriment. "Please God, you'll both be at Portel with me before dawn." Then she was indeed forced to believe. She put out her hands and groped for him, for it was dark inside the carriage; she groped, and felt his massive shoulders leaning across the body of the coach, while his fingers busied themselves with the irons on Armand's wrist. "Don't touch that brute's filthy coat with your dainty fingers, dear heart," he said gaily. "Great Lord! I have worn that wretch's clothes for over two hours; I feel as if the dirt had penetrated to my bones." Then with that gesture so habitual to him he took her head between his two hands, and drawing her to him until the wan light from without lit up the face that he worshipped, he gazed his fill into her eyes. She could only see the outline of his head silhouetted against the wind-tossed sky; she could not see his eyes, nor his lips, but she felt his nearness, and the happiness of that almost caused her to swoon. "Come out into the open, my lady fair," he murmured, and though she could not see, she could feel that he smiled; "let God's pure air blow through your hair and round your dear head. Then, if you can walk so far, there's a small half-way house close by here. I have knocked up the none too amiable host. You and Armand could have half an hour's rest there before we go further on our way." "But you, Percy?--are you safe?" "Yes, m'dear, we are all of us safe until morning-time enough to reach Le Portel, and to be aboard the Day-Dream before mine amiable friend M. Chambertin has discovered his worthy colleague lying gagged and bound inside the chapel of the Holy Sepulchre. By Gad! how old Heron will curse--the moment he can open his mouth!" He half helped, half lifted her out of the carriage. The strong pure air suddenly rushing right through to her lungs made her feel faint, and she almost fell. But it was good to feel herself falling, when one pair of arms amongst the millions on the earth were there to receive her. "Can you walk, dear heart?" he asked. "Lean well on me--it is not far, and the rest will do you good." "But you, Percy--" He laughed, and the most complete joy of living seemed to resound through that laugh. Her arm was in his, and for one moment he stood still while his eyes swept the far reaches of the country, the mellow distance still wrapped in its mantle of indigo, still untouched by the mysterious light of the waning moon. He pressed her arm against his heart, but his right hand was stretched out towards the black wall of the forest behind him, towards the dark crests of the pines in which the dying wind sent its last mournful sighs. "Dear heart," he said, and his voice quivered with the intensity of his excitement, "beyond the stretch of that wood, from far away over there, there are cries and moans of anguish that come to my ear even now. But for you, dear, I would cross that wood to-night and re-enter Paris to-morrow. But for you, dear--but for you," he reiterated earnestly as he pressed her closer to him, for a bitter cry had risen to her lips. She went on in silence. Her happiness was great--as great as was her pain. She had found him again, the man whom she worshipped, the husband whom she thought never to see again on earth. She had found him, and not even now--not after those terrible weeks of misery and suffering unspeakable--could she feel that love had triumphed over the wild, adventurous spirit, the reckless enthusiasm, the ardour of self-sacrifice. CHAPTER XLIX. THE LAND OF ELDORADO It seems that in the pocket of Heron's coat there was a letter-case with some few hundred francs. It was amusing to think that the brute's money helped to bribe the ill-tempered keeper of the half-way house to receive guests at midnight, and to ply them well with food, drink, and the shelter of a stuffy coffee-room. Marguerite sat silently beside her husband, her hand in his. Armand, opposite to them, had both elbows on the table. He looked pale and wan, with a bandage across his forehead, and his glowing eyes were resting on his chief. "Yes! you demmed young idiot," said Blakeney merrily, "you nearly upset my plan in the end, with your yelling and screaming outside the chapel gates." "I wanted to get to you, Percy. I thought those brutes had got you there inside that building." "Not they!" he exclaimed. "It was my friend Heron whom they had trussed and gagged, and whom my amiable friend M. Chambertin will find in there to-morrow morning. By Gad! I would go back if only for the pleasure of hearing Heron curse when first the gag is taken from his mouth." "But how was it all done, Percy? And there was de Batz--" "De Batz was part of the scheme I had planned for mine own escape before I knew that those brutes meant to take Marguerite and you as hostages for my good behaviour. What I hoped then was that under cover of a tussle or a fight I could somehow or other contrive to slip through their fingers. It was a chance, and you know my belief in bald-headed Fortune, with the one solitary hair. Well, I meant to grab that hair; and at the worst I could but die in the open and not caged in that awful hole like some noxious vermin. I knew that de Batz would rise to the bait. I told him in my letter that the Dauphin would be at the Chateau d'Ourde this night, but that I feared the revolutionary Government had got wind of this fact, and were sending an armed escort to bring the lad away. This letter Ffoulkes took to him; I knew that he would make a vigorous effort to get the Dauphin into his hands, and that during the scuffle that one hair on Fortune's head would for one second only, mayhap, come within my reach. I had so planned the expedition that we were bound to arrive at the forest of Boulogne by nightfall, and night is always a useful ally. But at the guard-house of the Rue Ste. Anne I realised for the first time that those brutes had pressed me into a tighter corner than I had pre-conceived." He paused, and once again that look of recklessness swept over his face, and his eyes--still hollow and circled--shone with the excitement of past memories. "I was such a weak, miserable wretch, then," he said, in answer to Marguerite's appeal. "I had to try and build up some strength, when--Heaven forgive me for the sacrilege--I had unwittingly risked your precious life, dear heart, in that blind endeavour to save mine own. By Gad! it was no easy task in that jolting vehicle with that noisome wretch beside me for sole company; yet I ate and I drank and I slept for three days and two nights, until the hour when in the darkness I struck Heron from behind, half-strangled him first, then gagged him, and finally slipped into his filthy coat and put that loathsome bandage across my head, and his battered hat above it all. The yell he gave when first I attacked him made every horse rear--you must remember it--the noise effectually drowned our last scuffle in the coach. Chauvelin was the only man who might have suspected what had occurred, but he had gone on ahead, and bald-headed Fortune had passed by me, and I had managed to grab its one hair. After that it was all quite easy. The sergeant and the soldiers had seen very little of Heron and nothing of me; it did not take a great effort to deceive them, and the darkness of the night was my most faithful friend. His raucous voice was not difficult to imitate, and darkness always muffles and changes every tone. Anyway, it was not likely that those loutish soldiers would even remotely suspect the trick that was being played on them. The citizen agent's orders were promptly and implicitly obeyed. The men never even thought to wonder that after insisting on an escort of twenty he should drive off with two prisoners and only two men to guard them. If they did wonder, it was not theirs to question. Those two troopers are spending an uncomfortable night somewhere in the forest of Boulogne, each tied to a tree, and some two leagues apart one from the other. And now," he added gaily, "en voiture, my fair lady; and you, too, Armand. 'Tis seven leagues to Le Portel, and we must be there before dawn." "Sir Andrew's intention was to make for Calais first, there to open communication with the Day-Dream and then for Le Portel," said Marguerite; "after that he meant to strike back for the Chateau d'Ourde in search of me." "Then we'll still find him at Le Portel--I shall know how to lay hands on him; but you two must get aboard the Day-Dream at once, for Ffoulkes and I can always look after ourselves." It was one hour after midnight when--refreshed with food and rest--Marguerite, Armand and Sir Percy left the half-way house. Marguerite was standing in the doorway ready to go. Percy and Armand had gone ahead to bring the coach along. "Percy," whispered Armand, "Marguerite does not know?" "Of course she does not, you young fool," retorted Percy lightly. "If you try and tell her I think I would smash your head." "But you--" said the young man with sudden vehemence; "can you bear the sight of me? My God! when I think--" "Don't think, my good Armand--not of that anyway. Only think of the woman for whose sake you committed a crime--if she is pure and good, woo her and win her--not just now, for it were foolish to go back to Paris after her, but anon, when she comes to England and all these past days are forgotten--then love her as much as you can, Armand. Learn your lesson of love better than I have learnt mine; do not cause Jeanne Lange those tears of anguish which my mad spirit brings to your sister's eyes. You were right, Armand, when you said that I do not know how to love!" But on board the Day-Dream, when all danger was past, Marguerite felt that he did. 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right

How many times the word 'right' appears in the text?

through the stillness of the night. Immediately after that the horses had been put at a more rapid pace, but it had seemed to Marguerite as if that one cry of pain had been repeated by several others which sounded more feeble and soon appeared to be dying away in the distance behind. The soldier who sat opposite to them must have heard the cry too, for he jumped up, as if wakened from sleep, and put his head out of the window. "Did you hear that cry, citizen?" he asked. But only a curse answered him, and a peremptory command not to lose sight of the prisoners by poking his head out of the window. "Did you hear the cry?" asked the soldier of Marguerite as he made haste to obey. "Yes! What could it be?" she murmured. "It seems dangerous to drive so fast in this darkness," muttered the soldier. After which remark he, with the stolidity peculiar to his kind, figuratively shrugged his shoulders, detaching himself, as it were, of the whole affair. "We should be out of the forest by now," he remarked in an undertone a little while later; "the way seemed shorter before." Just then the coach gave an unexpected lurch to one side, and after much groaning and creaking of axles and springs it came to a standstill, and the citizen agent was heard cursing loudly and then scrambling down from the box. The next moment the carriage-door was pulled open from without, and the harsh voice called out peremptorily: "Citizen soldier, here--quick!--quick!--curse you!--we'll have one of the horses down if you don't hurry!" The soldier struggled to his feet; it was never good to be slow in obeying the citizen agent's commands. He was half-asleep and no doubt numb with cold and long sitting still; to accelerate his movements he was suddenly gripped by the arm and dragged incontinently out of the coach. Then the door was slammed to again, either by a rough hand or a sudden gust of wind, Marguerite could not tell; she heard a cry of rage and one of terror, and Heron's raucous curses. She cowered in the corner of the carriage with Armand's head against her shoulder, and tried to close her ears to all those hideous sounds. Then suddenly all the sounds were hushed and all around everything became perfectly calm and still--so still that at first the silence oppressed her with a vague, nameless dread. It was as if Nature herself had paused, that she might listen; and the silence became more and more absolute, until Marguerite could hear Armand's soft, regular breathing close to her ear. The window nearest to her was open, and as she leaned forward with that paralysing sense of oppression a breath of pure air struck full upon her nostrils and brought with it a briny taste as if from the sea. It was not quite so dark; and there was a sense as of open country stretching out to the limits of the horizon. Overhead a vague greyish light suffused the sky, and the wind swept the clouds in great rolling banks right across that light. Marguerite gazed upward with a more calm feeling that was akin to gratitude. That pale light, though so wan and feeble, was thrice welcome after that inky blackness wherein shadows were less dark than the lights. She watched eagerly the bank of clouds driven by the dying gale. The light grew brighter and faintly golden, now the banks of clouds--storm-tossed and fleecy--raced past one another, parted and reunited like veils of unseen giant dancers waved by hands that controlled infinite space--advanced and rushed and slackened speed again--united and finally torn asunder to reveal the waning moon, honey-coloured and mysterious, rising as if from an invisible ocean far away. The wan pale light spread over the wide stretch of country, throwing over it as it spread dull tones of indigo and of blue. Here and there sparse, stunted trees with fringed gaunt arms bending to prevailing winds proclaimed the neighbourhood of the sea. Marguerite gazed on the picture which the waning moon had so suddenly revealed; but she gazed with eyes that knew not what they saw. The moon had risen on her right--there lay the east--and the coach must have been travelling due north, whereas Crecy... In the absolute silence that reigned she could perceive from far, very far away, the sound of a church clock striking the midnight hour; and now it seemed to her supersensitive senses that a firm footstep was treading the soft earth, a footstep that drew nearer--and then nearer still. Nature did pause to listen. The wind was hushed, the night-birds in the forest had gone to rest. Marguerite's heart beat so fast that its throbbings choked her, and a dizziness clouded her consciousness. But through this state of torpor she heard the opening of the carriage door, she felt the onrush of that pure, briny air, and she felt a long, burning kiss upon her hands. She thought then that she was really dead, and that God in His infinite love had opened to her the outer gates of Paradise. "My love!" she murmured. She was leaning back in the carriage and her eyes were closed, but she felt that firm fingers removed the irons from her wrists, and that a pair of warm lips were pressed there in their stead. "There, little woman, that's better so--is it not? Now let me get hold of poor old Armand!" It was Heaven, of course, else how could earth hold such heavenly joy? "Percy!" exclaimed Armand in an awed voice. "Hush, dear!" murmured Marguerite feebly; "we are in Heaven you and I--" Whereupon a ringing laugh woke the echoes of the silent night. "In Heaven, dear heart!" And the voice had a delicious earthly ring in its whole-hearted merriment. "Please God, you'll both be at Portel with me before dawn." Then she was indeed forced to believe. She put out her hands and groped for him, for it was dark inside the carriage; she groped, and felt his massive shoulders leaning across the body of the coach, while his fingers busied themselves with the irons on Armand's wrist. "Don't touch that brute's filthy coat with your dainty fingers, dear heart," he said gaily. "Great Lord! I have worn that wretch's clothes for over two hours; I feel as if the dirt had penetrated to my bones." Then with that gesture so habitual to him he took her head between his two hands, and drawing her to him until the wan light from without lit up the face that he worshipped, he gazed his fill into her eyes. She could only see the outline of his head silhouetted against the wind-tossed sky; she could not see his eyes, nor his lips, but she felt his nearness, and the happiness of that almost caused her to swoon. "Come out into the open, my lady fair," he murmured, and though she could not see, she could feel that he smiled; "let God's pure air blow through your hair and round your dear head. Then, if you can walk so far, there's a small half-way house close by here. I have knocked up the none too amiable host. You and Armand could have half an hour's rest there before we go further on our way." "But you, Percy?--are you safe?" "Yes, m'dear, we are all of us safe until morning-time enough to reach Le Portel, and to be aboard the Day-Dream before mine amiable friend M. Chambertin has discovered his worthy colleague lying gagged and bound inside the chapel of the Holy Sepulchre. By Gad! how old Heron will curse--the moment he can open his mouth!" He half helped, half lifted her out of the carriage. The strong pure air suddenly rushing right through to her lungs made her feel faint, and she almost fell. But it was good to feel herself falling, when one pair of arms amongst the millions on the earth were there to receive her. "Can you walk, dear heart?" he asked. "Lean well on me--it is not far, and the rest will do you good." "But you, Percy--" He laughed, and the most complete joy of living seemed to resound through that laugh. Her arm was in his, and for one moment he stood still while his eyes swept the far reaches of the country, the mellow distance still wrapped in its mantle of indigo, still untouched by the mysterious light of the waning moon. He pressed her arm against his heart, but his right hand was stretched out towards the black wall of the forest behind him, towards the dark crests of the pines in which the dying wind sent its last mournful sighs. "Dear heart," he said, and his voice quivered with the intensity of his excitement, "beyond the stretch of that wood, from far away over there, there are cries and moans of anguish that come to my ear even now. But for you, dear, I would cross that wood to-night and re-enter Paris to-morrow. But for you, dear--but for you," he reiterated earnestly as he pressed her closer to him, for a bitter cry had risen to her lips. She went on in silence. Her happiness was great--as great as was her pain. She had found him again, the man whom she worshipped, the husband whom she thought never to see again on earth. She had found him, and not even now--not after those terrible weeks of misery and suffering unspeakable--could she feel that love had triumphed over the wild, adventurous spirit, the reckless enthusiasm, the ardour of self-sacrifice. CHAPTER XLIX. THE LAND OF ELDORADO It seems that in the pocket of Heron's coat there was a letter-case with some few hundred francs. It was amusing to think that the brute's money helped to bribe the ill-tempered keeper of the half-way house to receive guests at midnight, and to ply them well with food, drink, and the shelter of a stuffy coffee-room. Marguerite sat silently beside her husband, her hand in his. Armand, opposite to them, had both elbows on the table. He looked pale and wan, with a bandage across his forehead, and his glowing eyes were resting on his chief. "Yes! you demmed young idiot," said Blakeney merrily, "you nearly upset my plan in the end, with your yelling and screaming outside the chapel gates." "I wanted to get to you, Percy. I thought those brutes had got you there inside that building." "Not they!" he exclaimed. "It was my friend Heron whom they had trussed and gagged, and whom my amiable friend M. Chambertin will find in there to-morrow morning. By Gad! I would go back if only for the pleasure of hearing Heron curse when first the gag is taken from his mouth." "But how was it all done, Percy? And there was de Batz--" "De Batz was part of the scheme I had planned for mine own escape before I knew that those brutes meant to take Marguerite and you as hostages for my good behaviour. What I hoped then was that under cover of a tussle or a fight I could somehow or other contrive to slip through their fingers. It was a chance, and you know my belief in bald-headed Fortune, with the one solitary hair. Well, I meant to grab that hair; and at the worst I could but die in the open and not caged in that awful hole like some noxious vermin. I knew that de Batz would rise to the bait. I told him in my letter that the Dauphin would be at the Chateau d'Ourde this night, but that I feared the revolutionary Government had got wind of this fact, and were sending an armed escort to bring the lad away. This letter Ffoulkes took to him; I knew that he would make a vigorous effort to get the Dauphin into his hands, and that during the scuffle that one hair on Fortune's head would for one second only, mayhap, come within my reach. I had so planned the expedition that we were bound to arrive at the forest of Boulogne by nightfall, and night is always a useful ally. But at the guard-house of the Rue Ste. Anne I realised for the first time that those brutes had pressed me into a tighter corner than I had pre-conceived." He paused, and once again that look of recklessness swept over his face, and his eyes--still hollow and circled--shone with the excitement of past memories. "I was such a weak, miserable wretch, then," he said, in answer to Marguerite's appeal. "I had to try and build up some strength, when--Heaven forgive me for the sacrilege--I had unwittingly risked your precious life, dear heart, in that blind endeavour to save mine own. By Gad! it was no easy task in that jolting vehicle with that noisome wretch beside me for sole company; yet I ate and I drank and I slept for three days and two nights, until the hour when in the darkness I struck Heron from behind, half-strangled him first, then gagged him, and finally slipped into his filthy coat and put that loathsome bandage across my head, and his battered hat above it all. The yell he gave when first I attacked him made every horse rear--you must remember it--the noise effectually drowned our last scuffle in the coach. Chauvelin was the only man who might have suspected what had occurred, but he had gone on ahead, and bald-headed Fortune had passed by me, and I had managed to grab its one hair. After that it was all quite easy. The sergeant and the soldiers had seen very little of Heron and nothing of me; it did not take a great effort to deceive them, and the darkness of the night was my most faithful friend. His raucous voice was not difficult to imitate, and darkness always muffles and changes every tone. Anyway, it was not likely that those loutish soldiers would even remotely suspect the trick that was being played on them. The citizen agent's orders were promptly and implicitly obeyed. The men never even thought to wonder that after insisting on an escort of twenty he should drive off with two prisoners and only two men to guard them. If they did wonder, it was not theirs to question. Those two troopers are spending an uncomfortable night somewhere in the forest of Boulogne, each tied to a tree, and some two leagues apart one from the other. And now," he added gaily, "en voiture, my fair lady; and you, too, Armand. 'Tis seven leagues to Le Portel, and we must be there before dawn." "Sir Andrew's intention was to make for Calais first, there to open communication with the Day-Dream and then for Le Portel," said Marguerite; "after that he meant to strike back for the Chateau d'Ourde in search of me." "Then we'll still find him at Le Portel--I shall know how to lay hands on him; but you two must get aboard the Day-Dream at once, for Ffoulkes and I can always look after ourselves." It was one hour after midnight when--refreshed with food and rest--Marguerite, Armand and Sir Percy left the half-way house. Marguerite was standing in the doorway ready to go. Percy and Armand had gone ahead to bring the coach along. "Percy," whispered Armand, "Marguerite does not know?" "Of course she does not, you young fool," retorted Percy lightly. "If you try and tell her I think I would smash your head." "But you--" said the young man with sudden vehemence; "can you bear the sight of me? My God! when I think--" "Don't think, my good Armand--not of that anyway. Only think of the woman for whose sake you committed a crime--if she is pure and good, woo her and win her--not just now, for it were foolish to go back to Paris after her, but anon, when she comes to England and all these past days are forgotten--then love her as much as you can, Armand. Learn your lesson of love better than I have learnt mine; do not cause Jeanne Lange those tears of anguish which my mad spirit brings to your sister's eyes. You were right, Armand, when you said that I do not know how to love!" But on board the Day-Dream, when all danger was past, Marguerite felt that he did. 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through the stillness of the night. Immediately after that the horses had been put at a more rapid pace, but it had seemed to Marguerite as if that one cry of pain had been repeated by several others which sounded more feeble and soon appeared to be dying away in the distance behind. The soldier who sat opposite to them must have heard the cry too, for he jumped up, as if wakened from sleep, and put his head out of the window. "Did you hear that cry, citizen?" he asked. But only a curse answered him, and a peremptory command not to lose sight of the prisoners by poking his head out of the window. "Did you hear the cry?" asked the soldier of Marguerite as he made haste to obey. "Yes! What could it be?" she murmured. "It seems dangerous to drive so fast in this darkness," muttered the soldier. After which remark he, with the stolidity peculiar to his kind, figuratively shrugged his shoulders, detaching himself, as it were, of the whole affair. "We should be out of the forest by now," he remarked in an undertone a little while later; "the way seemed shorter before." Just then the coach gave an unexpected lurch to one side, and after much groaning and creaking of axles and springs it came to a standstill, and the citizen agent was heard cursing loudly and then scrambling down from the box. The next moment the carriage-door was pulled open from without, and the harsh voice called out peremptorily: "Citizen soldier, here--quick!--quick!--curse you!--we'll have one of the horses down if you don't hurry!" The soldier struggled to his feet; it was never good to be slow in obeying the citizen agent's commands. He was half-asleep and no doubt numb with cold and long sitting still; to accelerate his movements he was suddenly gripped by the arm and dragged incontinently out of the coach. Then the door was slammed to again, either by a rough hand or a sudden gust of wind, Marguerite could not tell; she heard a cry of rage and one of terror, and Heron's raucous curses. She cowered in the corner of the carriage with Armand's head against her shoulder, and tried to close her ears to all those hideous sounds. Then suddenly all the sounds were hushed and all around everything became perfectly calm and still--so still that at first the silence oppressed her with a vague, nameless dread. It was as if Nature herself had paused, that she might listen; and the silence became more and more absolute, until Marguerite could hear Armand's soft, regular breathing close to her ear. The window nearest to her was open, and as she leaned forward with that paralysing sense of oppression a breath of pure air struck full upon her nostrils and brought with it a briny taste as if from the sea. It was not quite so dark; and there was a sense as of open country stretching out to the limits of the horizon. Overhead a vague greyish light suffused the sky, and the wind swept the clouds in great rolling banks right across that light. Marguerite gazed upward with a more calm feeling that was akin to gratitude. That pale light, though so wan and feeble, was thrice welcome after that inky blackness wherein shadows were less dark than the lights. She watched eagerly the bank of clouds driven by the dying gale. The light grew brighter and faintly golden, now the banks of clouds--storm-tossed and fleecy--raced past one another, parted and reunited like veils of unseen giant dancers waved by hands that controlled infinite space--advanced and rushed and slackened speed again--united and finally torn asunder to reveal the waning moon, honey-coloured and mysterious, rising as if from an invisible ocean far away. The wan pale light spread over the wide stretch of country, throwing over it as it spread dull tones of indigo and of blue. Here and there sparse, stunted trees with fringed gaunt arms bending to prevailing winds proclaimed the neighbourhood of the sea. Marguerite gazed on the picture which the waning moon had so suddenly revealed; but she gazed with eyes that knew not what they saw. The moon had risen on her right--there lay the east--and the coach must have been travelling due north, whereas Crecy... In the absolute silence that reigned she could perceive from far, very far away, the sound of a church clock striking the midnight hour; and now it seemed to her supersensitive senses that a firm footstep was treading the soft earth, a footstep that drew nearer--and then nearer still. Nature did pause to listen. The wind was hushed, the night-birds in the forest had gone to rest. Marguerite's heart beat so fast that its throbbings choked her, and a dizziness clouded her consciousness. But through this state of torpor she heard the opening of the carriage door, she felt the onrush of that pure, briny air, and she felt a long, burning kiss upon her hands. She thought then that she was really dead, and that God in His infinite love had opened to her the outer gates of Paradise. "My love!" she murmured. She was leaning back in the carriage and her eyes were closed, but she felt that firm fingers removed the irons from her wrists, and that a pair of warm lips were pressed there in their stead. "There, little woman, that's better so--is it not? Now let me get hold of poor old Armand!" It was Heaven, of course, else how could earth hold such heavenly joy? "Percy!" exclaimed Armand in an awed voice. "Hush, dear!" murmured Marguerite feebly; "we are in Heaven you and I--" Whereupon a ringing laugh woke the echoes of the silent night. "In Heaven, dear heart!" And the voice had a delicious earthly ring in its whole-hearted merriment. "Please God, you'll both be at Portel with me before dawn." Then she was indeed forced to believe. She put out her hands and groped for him, for it was dark inside the carriage; she groped, and felt his massive shoulders leaning across the body of the coach, while his fingers busied themselves with the irons on Armand's wrist. "Don't touch that brute's filthy coat with your dainty fingers, dear heart," he said gaily. "Great Lord! I have worn that wretch's clothes for over two hours; I feel as if the dirt had penetrated to my bones." Then with that gesture so habitual to him he took her head between his two hands, and drawing her to him until the wan light from without lit up the face that he worshipped, he gazed his fill into her eyes. She could only see the outline of his head silhouetted against the wind-tossed sky; she could not see his eyes, nor his lips, but she felt his nearness, and the happiness of that almost caused her to swoon. "Come out into the open, my lady fair," he murmured, and though she could not see, she could feel that he smiled; "let God's pure air blow through your hair and round your dear head. Then, if you can walk so far, there's a small half-way house close by here. I have knocked up the none too amiable host. You and Armand could have half an hour's rest there before we go further on our way." "But you, Percy?--are you safe?" "Yes, m'dear, we are all of us safe until morning-time enough to reach Le Portel, and to be aboard the Day-Dream before mine amiable friend M. Chambertin has discovered his worthy colleague lying gagged and bound inside the chapel of the Holy Sepulchre. By Gad! how old Heron will curse--the moment he can open his mouth!" He half helped, half lifted her out of the carriage. The strong pure air suddenly rushing right through to her lungs made her feel faint, and she almost fell. But it was good to feel herself falling, when one pair of arms amongst the millions on the earth were there to receive her. "Can you walk, dear heart?" he asked. "Lean well on me--it is not far, and the rest will do you good." "But you, Percy--" He laughed, and the most complete joy of living seemed to resound through that laugh. Her arm was in his, and for one moment he stood still while his eyes swept the far reaches of the country, the mellow distance still wrapped in its mantle of indigo, still untouched by the mysterious light of the waning moon. He pressed her arm against his heart, but his right hand was stretched out towards the black wall of the forest behind him, towards the dark crests of the pines in which the dying wind sent its last mournful sighs. "Dear heart," he said, and his voice quivered with the intensity of his excitement, "beyond the stretch of that wood, from far away over there, there are cries and moans of anguish that come to my ear even now. But for you, dear, I would cross that wood to-night and re-enter Paris to-morrow. But for you, dear--but for you," he reiterated earnestly as he pressed her closer to him, for a bitter cry had risen to her lips. She went on in silence. Her happiness was great--as great as was her pain. She had found him again, the man whom she worshipped, the husband whom she thought never to see again on earth. She had found him, and not even now--not after those terrible weeks of misery and suffering unspeakable--could she feel that love had triumphed over the wild, adventurous spirit, the reckless enthusiasm, the ardour of self-sacrifice. CHAPTER XLIX. THE LAND OF ELDORADO It seems that in the pocket of Heron's coat there was a letter-case with some few hundred francs. It was amusing to think that the brute's money helped to bribe the ill-tempered keeper of the half-way house to receive guests at midnight, and to ply them well with food, drink, and the shelter of a stuffy coffee-room. Marguerite sat silently beside her husband, her hand in his. Armand, opposite to them, had both elbows on the table. He looked pale and wan, with a bandage across his forehead, and his glowing eyes were resting on his chief. "Yes! you demmed young idiot," said Blakeney merrily, "you nearly upset my plan in the end, with your yelling and screaming outside the chapel gates." "I wanted to get to you, Percy. I thought those brutes had got you there inside that building." "Not they!" he exclaimed. "It was my friend Heron whom they had trussed and gagged, and whom my amiable friend M. Chambertin will find in there to-morrow morning. By Gad! I would go back if only for the pleasure of hearing Heron curse when first the gag is taken from his mouth." "But how was it all done, Percy? And there was de Batz--" "De Batz was part of the scheme I had planned for mine own escape before I knew that those brutes meant to take Marguerite and you as hostages for my good behaviour. What I hoped then was that under cover of a tussle or a fight I could somehow or other contrive to slip through their fingers. It was a chance, and you know my belief in bald-headed Fortune, with the one solitary hair. Well, I meant to grab that hair; and at the worst I could but die in the open and not caged in that awful hole like some noxious vermin. I knew that de Batz would rise to the bait. I told him in my letter that the Dauphin would be at the Chateau d'Ourde this night, but that I feared the revolutionary Government had got wind of this fact, and were sending an armed escort to bring the lad away. This letter Ffoulkes took to him; I knew that he would make a vigorous effort to get the Dauphin into his hands, and that during the scuffle that one hair on Fortune's head would for one second only, mayhap, come within my reach. I had so planned the expedition that we were bound to arrive at the forest of Boulogne by nightfall, and night is always a useful ally. But at the guard-house of the Rue Ste. Anne I realised for the first time that those brutes had pressed me into a tighter corner than I had pre-conceived." He paused, and once again that look of recklessness swept over his face, and his eyes--still hollow and circled--shone with the excitement of past memories. "I was such a weak, miserable wretch, then," he said, in answer to Marguerite's appeal. "I had to try and build up some strength, when--Heaven forgive me for the sacrilege--I had unwittingly risked your precious life, dear heart, in that blind endeavour to save mine own. By Gad! it was no easy task in that jolting vehicle with that noisome wretch beside me for sole company; yet I ate and I drank and I slept for three days and two nights, until the hour when in the darkness I struck Heron from behind, half-strangled him first, then gagged him, and finally slipped into his filthy coat and put that loathsome bandage across my head, and his battered hat above it all. The yell he gave when first I attacked him made every horse rear--you must remember it--the noise effectually drowned our last scuffle in the coach. Chauvelin was the only man who might have suspected what had occurred, but he had gone on ahead, and bald-headed Fortune had passed by me, and I had managed to grab its one hair. After that it was all quite easy. The sergeant and the soldiers had seen very little of Heron and nothing of me; it did not take a great effort to deceive them, and the darkness of the night was my most faithful friend. His raucous voice was not difficult to imitate, and darkness always muffles and changes every tone. Anyway, it was not likely that those loutish soldiers would even remotely suspect the trick that was being played on them. The citizen agent's orders were promptly and implicitly obeyed. The men never even thought to wonder that after insisting on an escort of twenty he should drive off with two prisoners and only two men to guard them. If they did wonder, it was not theirs to question. Those two troopers are spending an uncomfortable night somewhere in the forest of Boulogne, each tied to a tree, and some two leagues apart one from the other. And now," he added gaily, "en voiture, my fair lady; and you, too, Armand. 'Tis seven leagues to Le Portel, and we must be there before dawn." "Sir Andrew's intention was to make for Calais first, there to open communication with the Day-Dream and then for Le Portel," said Marguerite; "after that he meant to strike back for the Chateau d'Ourde in search of me." "Then we'll still find him at Le Portel--I shall know how to lay hands on him; but you two must get aboard the Day-Dream at once, for Ffoulkes and I can always look after ourselves." It was one hour after midnight when--refreshed with food and rest--Marguerite, Armand and Sir Percy left the half-way house. Marguerite was standing in the doorway ready to go. Percy and Armand had gone ahead to bring the coach along. "Percy," whispered Armand, "Marguerite does not know?" "Of course she does not, you young fool," retorted Percy lightly. "If you try and tell her I think I would smash your head." "But you--" said the young man with sudden vehemence; "can you bear the sight of me? My God! when I think--" "Don't think, my good Armand--not of that anyway. Only think of the woman for whose sake you committed a crime--if she is pure and good, woo her and win her--not just now, for it were foolish to go back to Paris after her, but anon, when she comes to England and all these past days are forgotten--then love her as much as you can, Armand. Learn your lesson of love better than I have learnt mine; do not cause Jeanne Lange those tears of anguish which my mad spirit brings to your sister's eyes. You were right, Armand, when you said that I do not know how to love!" But on board the Day-Dream, when all danger was past, Marguerite felt that he did. 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unforgiven

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through the stillness of the night. Immediately after that the horses had been put at a more rapid pace, but it had seemed to Marguerite as if that one cry of pain had been repeated by several others which sounded more feeble and soon appeared to be dying away in the distance behind. The soldier who sat opposite to them must have heard the cry too, for he jumped up, as if wakened from sleep, and put his head out of the window. "Did you hear that cry, citizen?" he asked. But only a curse answered him, and a peremptory command not to lose sight of the prisoners by poking his head out of the window. "Did you hear the cry?" asked the soldier of Marguerite as he made haste to obey. "Yes! What could it be?" she murmured. "It seems dangerous to drive so fast in this darkness," muttered the soldier. After which remark he, with the stolidity peculiar to his kind, figuratively shrugged his shoulders, detaching himself, as it were, of the whole affair. "We should be out of the forest by now," he remarked in an undertone a little while later; "the way seemed shorter before." Just then the coach gave an unexpected lurch to one side, and after much groaning and creaking of axles and springs it came to a standstill, and the citizen agent was heard cursing loudly and then scrambling down from the box. The next moment the carriage-door was pulled open from without, and the harsh voice called out peremptorily: "Citizen soldier, here--quick!--quick!--curse you!--we'll have one of the horses down if you don't hurry!" The soldier struggled to his feet; it was never good to be slow in obeying the citizen agent's commands. He was half-asleep and no doubt numb with cold and long sitting still; to accelerate his movements he was suddenly gripped by the arm and dragged incontinently out of the coach. Then the door was slammed to again, either by a rough hand or a sudden gust of wind, Marguerite could not tell; she heard a cry of rage and one of terror, and Heron's raucous curses. She cowered in the corner of the carriage with Armand's head against her shoulder, and tried to close her ears to all those hideous sounds. Then suddenly all the sounds were hushed and all around everything became perfectly calm and still--so still that at first the silence oppressed her with a vague, nameless dread. It was as if Nature herself had paused, that she might listen; and the silence became more and more absolute, until Marguerite could hear Armand's soft, regular breathing close to her ear. The window nearest to her was open, and as she leaned forward with that paralysing sense of oppression a breath of pure air struck full upon her nostrils and brought with it a briny taste as if from the sea. It was not quite so dark; and there was a sense as of open country stretching out to the limits of the horizon. Overhead a vague greyish light suffused the sky, and the wind swept the clouds in great rolling banks right across that light. Marguerite gazed upward with a more calm feeling that was akin to gratitude. That pale light, though so wan and feeble, was thrice welcome after that inky blackness wherein shadows were less dark than the lights. She watched eagerly the bank of clouds driven by the dying gale. The light grew brighter and faintly golden, now the banks of clouds--storm-tossed and fleecy--raced past one another, parted and reunited like veils of unseen giant dancers waved by hands that controlled infinite space--advanced and rushed and slackened speed again--united and finally torn asunder to reveal the waning moon, honey-coloured and mysterious, rising as if from an invisible ocean far away. The wan pale light spread over the wide stretch of country, throwing over it as it spread dull tones of indigo and of blue. Here and there sparse, stunted trees with fringed gaunt arms bending to prevailing winds proclaimed the neighbourhood of the sea. Marguerite gazed on the picture which the waning moon had so suddenly revealed; but she gazed with eyes that knew not what they saw. The moon had risen on her right--there lay the east--and the coach must have been travelling due north, whereas Crecy... In the absolute silence that reigned she could perceive from far, very far away, the sound of a church clock striking the midnight hour; and now it seemed to her supersensitive senses that a firm footstep was treading the soft earth, a footstep that drew nearer--and then nearer still. Nature did pause to listen. The wind was hushed, the night-birds in the forest had gone to rest. Marguerite's heart beat so fast that its throbbings choked her, and a dizziness clouded her consciousness. But through this state of torpor she heard the opening of the carriage door, she felt the onrush of that pure, briny air, and she felt a long, burning kiss upon her hands. She thought then that she was really dead, and that God in His infinite love had opened to her the outer gates of Paradise. "My love!" she murmured. She was leaning back in the carriage and her eyes were closed, but she felt that firm fingers removed the irons from her wrists, and that a pair of warm lips were pressed there in their stead. "There, little woman, that's better so--is it not? Now let me get hold of poor old Armand!" It was Heaven, of course, else how could earth hold such heavenly joy? "Percy!" exclaimed Armand in an awed voice. "Hush, dear!" murmured Marguerite feebly; "we are in Heaven you and I--" Whereupon a ringing laugh woke the echoes of the silent night. "In Heaven, dear heart!" And the voice had a delicious earthly ring in its whole-hearted merriment. "Please God, you'll both be at Portel with me before dawn." Then she was indeed forced to believe. She put out her hands and groped for him, for it was dark inside the carriage; she groped, and felt his massive shoulders leaning across the body of the coach, while his fingers busied themselves with the irons on Armand's wrist. "Don't touch that brute's filthy coat with your dainty fingers, dear heart," he said gaily. "Great Lord! I have worn that wretch's clothes for over two hours; I feel as if the dirt had penetrated to my bones." Then with that gesture so habitual to him he took her head between his two hands, and drawing her to him until the wan light from without lit up the face that he worshipped, he gazed his fill into her eyes. She could only see the outline of his head silhouetted against the wind-tossed sky; she could not see his eyes, nor his lips, but she felt his nearness, and the happiness of that almost caused her to swoon. "Come out into the open, my lady fair," he murmured, and though she could not see, she could feel that he smiled; "let God's pure air blow through your hair and round your dear head. Then, if you can walk so far, there's a small half-way house close by here. I have knocked up the none too amiable host. You and Armand could have half an hour's rest there before we go further on our way." "But you, Percy?--are you safe?" "Yes, m'dear, we are all of us safe until morning-time enough to reach Le Portel, and to be aboard the Day-Dream before mine amiable friend M. Chambertin has discovered his worthy colleague lying gagged and bound inside the chapel of the Holy Sepulchre. By Gad! how old Heron will curse--the moment he can open his mouth!" He half helped, half lifted her out of the carriage. The strong pure air suddenly rushing right through to her lungs made her feel faint, and she almost fell. But it was good to feel herself falling, when one pair of arms amongst the millions on the earth were there to receive her. "Can you walk, dear heart?" he asked. "Lean well on me--it is not far, and the rest will do you good." "But you, Percy--" He laughed, and the most complete joy of living seemed to resound through that laugh. Her arm was in his, and for one moment he stood still while his eyes swept the far reaches of the country, the mellow distance still wrapped in its mantle of indigo, still untouched by the mysterious light of the waning moon. He pressed her arm against his heart, but his right hand was stretched out towards the black wall of the forest behind him, towards the dark crests of the pines in which the dying wind sent its last mournful sighs. "Dear heart," he said, and his voice quivered with the intensity of his excitement, "beyond the stretch of that wood, from far away over there, there are cries and moans of anguish that come to my ear even now. But for you, dear, I would cross that wood to-night and re-enter Paris to-morrow. But for you, dear--but for you," he reiterated earnestly as he pressed her closer to him, for a bitter cry had risen to her lips. She went on in silence. Her happiness was great--as great as was her pain. She had found him again, the man whom she worshipped, the husband whom she thought never to see again on earth. She had found him, and not even now--not after those terrible weeks of misery and suffering unspeakable--could she feel that love had triumphed over the wild, adventurous spirit, the reckless enthusiasm, the ardour of self-sacrifice. CHAPTER XLIX. THE LAND OF ELDORADO It seems that in the pocket of Heron's coat there was a letter-case with some few hundred francs. It was amusing to think that the brute's money helped to bribe the ill-tempered keeper of the half-way house to receive guests at midnight, and to ply them well with food, drink, and the shelter of a stuffy coffee-room. Marguerite sat silently beside her husband, her hand in his. Armand, opposite to them, had both elbows on the table. He looked pale and wan, with a bandage across his forehead, and his glowing eyes were resting on his chief. "Yes! you demmed young idiot," said Blakeney merrily, "you nearly upset my plan in the end, with your yelling and screaming outside the chapel gates." "I wanted to get to you, Percy. I thought those brutes had got you there inside that building." "Not they!" he exclaimed. "It was my friend Heron whom they had trussed and gagged, and whom my amiable friend M. Chambertin will find in there to-morrow morning. By Gad! I would go back if only for the pleasure of hearing Heron curse when first the gag is taken from his mouth." "But how was it all done, Percy? And there was de Batz--" "De Batz was part of the scheme I had planned for mine own escape before I knew that those brutes meant to take Marguerite and you as hostages for my good behaviour. What I hoped then was that under cover of a tussle or a fight I could somehow or other contrive to slip through their fingers. It was a chance, and you know my belief in bald-headed Fortune, with the one solitary hair. Well, I meant to grab that hair; and at the worst I could but die in the open and not caged in that awful hole like some noxious vermin. I knew that de Batz would rise to the bait. I told him in my letter that the Dauphin would be at the Chateau d'Ourde this night, but that I feared the revolutionary Government had got wind of this fact, and were sending an armed escort to bring the lad away. This letter Ffoulkes took to him; I knew that he would make a vigorous effort to get the Dauphin into his hands, and that during the scuffle that one hair on Fortune's head would for one second only, mayhap, come within my reach. I had so planned the expedition that we were bound to arrive at the forest of Boulogne by nightfall, and night is always a useful ally. But at the guard-house of the Rue Ste. Anne I realised for the first time that those brutes had pressed me into a tighter corner than I had pre-conceived." He paused, and once again that look of recklessness swept over his face, and his eyes--still hollow and circled--shone with the excitement of past memories. "I was such a weak, miserable wretch, then," he said, in answer to Marguerite's appeal. "I had to try and build up some strength, when--Heaven forgive me for the sacrilege--I had unwittingly risked your precious life, dear heart, in that blind endeavour to save mine own. By Gad! it was no easy task in that jolting vehicle with that noisome wretch beside me for sole company; yet I ate and I drank and I slept for three days and two nights, until the hour when in the darkness I struck Heron from behind, half-strangled him first, then gagged him, and finally slipped into his filthy coat and put that loathsome bandage across my head, and his battered hat above it all. The yell he gave when first I attacked him made every horse rear--you must remember it--the noise effectually drowned our last scuffle in the coach. Chauvelin was the only man who might have suspected what had occurred, but he had gone on ahead, and bald-headed Fortune had passed by me, and I had managed to grab its one hair. After that it was all quite easy. The sergeant and the soldiers had seen very little of Heron and nothing of me; it did not take a great effort to deceive them, and the darkness of the night was my most faithful friend. His raucous voice was not difficult to imitate, and darkness always muffles and changes every tone. Anyway, it was not likely that those loutish soldiers would even remotely suspect the trick that was being played on them. The citizen agent's orders were promptly and implicitly obeyed. The men never even thought to wonder that after insisting on an escort of twenty he should drive off with two prisoners and only two men to guard them. If they did wonder, it was not theirs to question. Those two troopers are spending an uncomfortable night somewhere in the forest of Boulogne, each tied to a tree, and some two leagues apart one from the other. And now," he added gaily, "en voiture, my fair lady; and you, too, Armand. 'Tis seven leagues to Le Portel, and we must be there before dawn." "Sir Andrew's intention was to make for Calais first, there to open communication with the Day-Dream and then for Le Portel," said Marguerite; "after that he meant to strike back for the Chateau d'Ourde in search of me." "Then we'll still find him at Le Portel--I shall know how to lay hands on him; but you two must get aboard the Day-Dream at once, for Ffoulkes and I can always look after ourselves." It was one hour after midnight when--refreshed with food and rest--Marguerite, Armand and Sir Percy left the half-way house. Marguerite was standing in the doorway ready to go. Percy and Armand had gone ahead to bring the coach along. "Percy," whispered Armand, "Marguerite does not know?" "Of course she does not, you young fool," retorted Percy lightly. "If you try and tell her I think I would smash your head." "But you--" said the young man with sudden vehemence; "can you bear the sight of me? My God! when I think--" "Don't think, my good Armand--not of that anyway. Only think of the woman for whose sake you committed a crime--if she is pure and good, woo her and win her--not just now, for it were foolish to go back to Paris after her, but anon, when she comes to England and all these past days are forgotten--then love her as much as you can, Armand. Learn your lesson of love better than I have learnt mine; do not cause Jeanne Lange those tears of anguish which my mad spirit brings to your sister's eyes. You were right, Armand, when you said that I do not know how to love!" But on board the Day-Dream, when all danger was past, Marguerite felt that he did. End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of El Dorado, by Baroness Orczy *** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK EL DORADO *** ***** This file should be named 1752.txt or 1752.zip ***** This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: http://www.gutenberg.org/1/7/5/1752/ Produced by An Anonymous Volunteer Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will be renamed. Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. 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through the stillness of the night. Immediately after that the horses had been put at a more rapid pace, but it had seemed to Marguerite as if that one cry of pain had been repeated by several others which sounded more feeble and soon appeared to be dying away in the distance behind. The soldier who sat opposite to them must have heard the cry too, for he jumped up, as if wakened from sleep, and put his head out of the window. "Did you hear that cry, citizen?" he asked. But only a curse answered him, and a peremptory command not to lose sight of the prisoners by poking his head out of the window. "Did you hear the cry?" asked the soldier of Marguerite as he made haste to obey. "Yes! What could it be?" she murmured. "It seems dangerous to drive so fast in this darkness," muttered the soldier. After which remark he, with the stolidity peculiar to his kind, figuratively shrugged his shoulders, detaching himself, as it were, of the whole affair. "We should be out of the forest by now," he remarked in an undertone a little while later; "the way seemed shorter before." Just then the coach gave an unexpected lurch to one side, and after much groaning and creaking of axles and springs it came to a standstill, and the citizen agent was heard cursing loudly and then scrambling down from the box. The next moment the carriage-door was pulled open from without, and the harsh voice called out peremptorily: "Citizen soldier, here--quick!--quick!--curse you!--we'll have one of the horses down if you don't hurry!" The soldier struggled to his feet; it was never good to be slow in obeying the citizen agent's commands. He was half-asleep and no doubt numb with cold and long sitting still; to accelerate his movements he was suddenly gripped by the arm and dragged incontinently out of the coach. Then the door was slammed to again, either by a rough hand or a sudden gust of wind, Marguerite could not tell; she heard a cry of rage and one of terror, and Heron's raucous curses. She cowered in the corner of the carriage with Armand's head against her shoulder, and tried to close her ears to all those hideous sounds. Then suddenly all the sounds were hushed and all around everything became perfectly calm and still--so still that at first the silence oppressed her with a vague, nameless dread. It was as if Nature herself had paused, that she might listen; and the silence became more and more absolute, until Marguerite could hear Armand's soft, regular breathing close to her ear. The window nearest to her was open, and as she leaned forward with that paralysing sense of oppression a breath of pure air struck full upon her nostrils and brought with it a briny taste as if from the sea. It was not quite so dark; and there was a sense as of open country stretching out to the limits of the horizon. Overhead a vague greyish light suffused the sky, and the wind swept the clouds in great rolling banks right across that light. Marguerite gazed upward with a more calm feeling that was akin to gratitude. That pale light, though so wan and feeble, was thrice welcome after that inky blackness wherein shadows were less dark than the lights. She watched eagerly the bank of clouds driven by the dying gale. The light grew brighter and faintly golden, now the banks of clouds--storm-tossed and fleecy--raced past one another, parted and reunited like veils of unseen giant dancers waved by hands that controlled infinite space--advanced and rushed and slackened speed again--united and finally torn asunder to reveal the waning moon, honey-coloured and mysterious, rising as if from an invisible ocean far away. The wan pale light spread over the wide stretch of country, throwing over it as it spread dull tones of indigo and of blue. Here and there sparse, stunted trees with fringed gaunt arms bending to prevailing winds proclaimed the neighbourhood of the sea. Marguerite gazed on the picture which the waning moon had so suddenly revealed; but she gazed with eyes that knew not what they saw. The moon had risen on her right--there lay the east--and the coach must have been travelling due north, whereas Crecy... In the absolute silence that reigned she could perceive from far, very far away, the sound of a church clock striking the midnight hour; and now it seemed to her supersensitive senses that a firm footstep was treading the soft earth, a footstep that drew nearer--and then nearer still. Nature did pause to listen. The wind was hushed, the night-birds in the forest had gone to rest. Marguerite's heart beat so fast that its throbbings choked her, and a dizziness clouded her consciousness. But through this state of torpor she heard the opening of the carriage door, she felt the onrush of that pure, briny air, and she felt a long, burning kiss upon her hands. She thought then that she was really dead, and that God in His infinite love had opened to her the outer gates of Paradise. "My love!" she murmured. She was leaning back in the carriage and her eyes were closed, but she felt that firm fingers removed the irons from her wrists, and that a pair of warm lips were pressed there in their stead. "There, little woman, that's better so--is it not? Now let me get hold of poor old Armand!" It was Heaven, of course, else how could earth hold such heavenly joy? "Percy!" exclaimed Armand in an awed voice. "Hush, dear!" murmured Marguerite feebly; "we are in Heaven you and I--" Whereupon a ringing laugh woke the echoes of the silent night. "In Heaven, dear heart!" And the voice had a delicious earthly ring in its whole-hearted merriment. "Please God, you'll both be at Portel with me before dawn." Then she was indeed forced to believe. She put out her hands and groped for him, for it was dark inside the carriage; she groped, and felt his massive shoulders leaning across the body of the coach, while his fingers busied themselves with the irons on Armand's wrist. "Don't touch that brute's filthy coat with your dainty fingers, dear heart," he said gaily. "Great Lord! I have worn that wretch's clothes for over two hours; I feel as if the dirt had penetrated to my bones." Then with that gesture so habitual to him he took her head between his two hands, and drawing her to him until the wan light from without lit up the face that he worshipped, he gazed his fill into her eyes. She could only see the outline of his head silhouetted against the wind-tossed sky; she could not see his eyes, nor his lips, but she felt his nearness, and the happiness of that almost caused her to swoon. "Come out into the open, my lady fair," he murmured, and though she could not see, she could feel that he smiled; "let God's pure air blow through your hair and round your dear head. Then, if you can walk so far, there's a small half-way house close by here. I have knocked up the none too amiable host. You and Armand could have half an hour's rest there before we go further on our way." "But you, Percy?--are you safe?" "Yes, m'dear, we are all of us safe until morning-time enough to reach Le Portel, and to be aboard the Day-Dream before mine amiable friend M. Chambertin has discovered his worthy colleague lying gagged and bound inside the chapel of the Holy Sepulchre. By Gad! how old Heron will curse--the moment he can open his mouth!" He half helped, half lifted her out of the carriage. The strong pure air suddenly rushing right through to her lungs made her feel faint, and she almost fell. But it was good to feel herself falling, when one pair of arms amongst the millions on the earth were there to receive her. "Can you walk, dear heart?" he asked. "Lean well on me--it is not far, and the rest will do you good." "But you, Percy--" He laughed, and the most complete joy of living seemed to resound through that laugh. Her arm was in his, and for one moment he stood still while his eyes swept the far reaches of the country, the mellow distance still wrapped in its mantle of indigo, still untouched by the mysterious light of the waning moon. He pressed her arm against his heart, but his right hand was stretched out towards the black wall of the forest behind him, towards the dark crests of the pines in which the dying wind sent its last mournful sighs. "Dear heart," he said, and his voice quivered with the intensity of his excitement, "beyond the stretch of that wood, from far away over there, there are cries and moans of anguish that come to my ear even now. But for you, dear, I would cross that wood to-night and re-enter Paris to-morrow. But for you, dear--but for you," he reiterated earnestly as he pressed her closer to him, for a bitter cry had risen to her lips. She went on in silence. Her happiness was great--as great as was her pain. She had found him again, the man whom she worshipped, the husband whom she thought never to see again on earth. She had found him, and not even now--not after those terrible weeks of misery and suffering unspeakable--could she feel that love had triumphed over the wild, adventurous spirit, the reckless enthusiasm, the ardour of self-sacrifice. CHAPTER XLIX. THE LAND OF ELDORADO It seems that in the pocket of Heron's coat there was a letter-case with some few hundred francs. It was amusing to think that the brute's money helped to bribe the ill-tempered keeper of the half-way house to receive guests at midnight, and to ply them well with food, drink, and the shelter of a stuffy coffee-room. Marguerite sat silently beside her husband, her hand in his. Armand, opposite to them, had both elbows on the table. He looked pale and wan, with a bandage across his forehead, and his glowing eyes were resting on his chief. "Yes! you demmed young idiot," said Blakeney merrily, "you nearly upset my plan in the end, with your yelling and screaming outside the chapel gates." "I wanted to get to you, Percy. I thought those brutes had got you there inside that building." "Not they!" he exclaimed. "It was my friend Heron whom they had trussed and gagged, and whom my amiable friend M. Chambertin will find in there to-morrow morning. By Gad! I would go back if only for the pleasure of hearing Heron curse when first the gag is taken from his mouth." "But how was it all done, Percy? And there was de Batz--" "De Batz was part of the scheme I had planned for mine own escape before I knew that those brutes meant to take Marguerite and you as hostages for my good behaviour. What I hoped then was that under cover of a tussle or a fight I could somehow or other contrive to slip through their fingers. It was a chance, and you know my belief in bald-headed Fortune, with the one solitary hair. Well, I meant to grab that hair; and at the worst I could but die in the open and not caged in that awful hole like some noxious vermin. I knew that de Batz would rise to the bait. I told him in my letter that the Dauphin would be at the Chateau d'Ourde this night, but that I feared the revolutionary Government had got wind of this fact, and were sending an armed escort to bring the lad away. This letter Ffoulkes took to him; I knew that he would make a vigorous effort to get the Dauphin into his hands, and that during the scuffle that one hair on Fortune's head would for one second only, mayhap, come within my reach. I had so planned the expedition that we were bound to arrive at the forest of Boulogne by nightfall, and night is always a useful ally. But at the guard-house of the Rue Ste. Anne I realised for the first time that those brutes had pressed me into a tighter corner than I had pre-conceived." He paused, and once again that look of recklessness swept over his face, and his eyes--still hollow and circled--shone with the excitement of past memories. "I was such a weak, miserable wretch, then," he said, in answer to Marguerite's appeal. "I had to try and build up some strength, when--Heaven forgive me for the sacrilege--I had unwittingly risked your precious life, dear heart, in that blind endeavour to save mine own. By Gad! it was no easy task in that jolting vehicle with that noisome wretch beside me for sole company; yet I ate and I drank and I slept for three days and two nights, until the hour when in the darkness I struck Heron from behind, half-strangled him first, then gagged him, and finally slipped into his filthy coat and put that loathsome bandage across my head, and his battered hat above it all. The yell he gave when first I attacked him made every horse rear--you must remember it--the noise effectually drowned our last scuffle in the coach. Chauvelin was the only man who might have suspected what had occurred, but he had gone on ahead, and bald-headed Fortune had passed by me, and I had managed to grab its one hair. After that it was all quite easy. The sergeant and the soldiers had seen very little of Heron and nothing of me; it did not take a great effort to deceive them, and the darkness of the night was my most faithful friend. His raucous voice was not difficult to imitate, and darkness always muffles and changes every tone. Anyway, it was not likely that those loutish soldiers would even remotely suspect the trick that was being played on them. The citizen agent's orders were promptly and implicitly obeyed. The men never even thought to wonder that after insisting on an escort of twenty he should drive off with two prisoners and only two men to guard them. If they did wonder, it was not theirs to question. Those two troopers are spending an uncomfortable night somewhere in the forest of Boulogne, each tied to a tree, and some two leagues apart one from the other. And now," he added gaily, "en voiture, my fair lady; and you, too, Armand. 'Tis seven leagues to Le Portel, and we must be there before dawn." "Sir Andrew's intention was to make for Calais first, there to open communication with the Day-Dream and then for Le Portel," said Marguerite; "after that he meant to strike back for the Chateau d'Ourde in search of me." "Then we'll still find him at Le Portel--I shall know how to lay hands on him; but you two must get aboard the Day-Dream at once, for Ffoulkes and I can always look after ourselves." It was one hour after midnight when--refreshed with food and rest--Marguerite, Armand and Sir Percy left the half-way house. Marguerite was standing in the doorway ready to go. Percy and Armand had gone ahead to bring the coach along. "Percy," whispered Armand, "Marguerite does not know?" "Of course she does not, you young fool," retorted Percy lightly. "If you try and tell her I think I would smash your head." "But you--" said the young man with sudden vehemence; "can you bear the sight of me? My God! when I think--" "Don't think, my good Armand--not of that anyway. Only think of the woman for whose sake you committed a crime--if she is pure and good, woo her and win her--not just now, for it were foolish to go back to Paris after her, but anon, when she comes to England and all these past days are forgotten--then love her as much as you can, Armand. Learn your lesson of love better than I have learnt mine; do not cause Jeanne Lange those tears of anguish which my mad spirit brings to your sister's eyes. You were right, Armand, when you said that I do not know how to love!" But on board the Day-Dream, when all danger was past, Marguerite felt that he did. End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of El Dorado, by Baroness Orczy *** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK EL DORADO *** ***** This file should be named 1752.txt or 1752.zip ***** This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: http://www.gutenberg.org/1/7/5/1752/ Produced by An Anonymous Volunteer Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will be renamed. Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. 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through the stillness of the night. Immediately after that the horses had been put at a more rapid pace, but it had seemed to Marguerite as if that one cry of pain had been repeated by several others which sounded more feeble and soon appeared to be dying away in the distance behind. The soldier who sat opposite to them must have heard the cry too, for he jumped up, as if wakened from sleep, and put his head out of the window. "Did you hear that cry, citizen?" he asked. But only a curse answered him, and a peremptory command not to lose sight of the prisoners by poking his head out of the window. "Did you hear the cry?" asked the soldier of Marguerite as he made haste to obey. "Yes! What could it be?" she murmured. "It seems dangerous to drive so fast in this darkness," muttered the soldier. After which remark he, with the stolidity peculiar to his kind, figuratively shrugged his shoulders, detaching himself, as it were, of the whole affair. "We should be out of the forest by now," he remarked in an undertone a little while later; "the way seemed shorter before." Just then the coach gave an unexpected lurch to one side, and after much groaning and creaking of axles and springs it came to a standstill, and the citizen agent was heard cursing loudly and then scrambling down from the box. The next moment the carriage-door was pulled open from without, and the harsh voice called out peremptorily: "Citizen soldier, here--quick!--quick!--curse you!--we'll have one of the horses down if you don't hurry!" The soldier struggled to his feet; it was never good to be slow in obeying the citizen agent's commands. He was half-asleep and no doubt numb with cold and long sitting still; to accelerate his movements he was suddenly gripped by the arm and dragged incontinently out of the coach. Then the door was slammed to again, either by a rough hand or a sudden gust of wind, Marguerite could not tell; she heard a cry of rage and one of terror, and Heron's raucous curses. She cowered in the corner of the carriage with Armand's head against her shoulder, and tried to close her ears to all those hideous sounds. Then suddenly all the sounds were hushed and all around everything became perfectly calm and still--so still that at first the silence oppressed her with a vague, nameless dread. It was as if Nature herself had paused, that she might listen; and the silence became more and more absolute, until Marguerite could hear Armand's soft, regular breathing close to her ear. The window nearest to her was open, and as she leaned forward with that paralysing sense of oppression a breath of pure air struck full upon her nostrils and brought with it a briny taste as if from the sea. It was not quite so dark; and there was a sense as of open country stretching out to the limits of the horizon. Overhead a vague greyish light suffused the sky, and the wind swept the clouds in great rolling banks right across that light. Marguerite gazed upward with a more calm feeling that was akin to gratitude. That pale light, though so wan and feeble, was thrice welcome after that inky blackness wherein shadows were less dark than the lights. She watched eagerly the bank of clouds driven by the dying gale. The light grew brighter and faintly golden, now the banks of clouds--storm-tossed and fleecy--raced past one another, parted and reunited like veils of unseen giant dancers waved by hands that controlled infinite space--advanced and rushed and slackened speed again--united and finally torn asunder to reveal the waning moon, honey-coloured and mysterious, rising as if from an invisible ocean far away. The wan pale light spread over the wide stretch of country, throwing over it as it spread dull tones of indigo and of blue. Here and there sparse, stunted trees with fringed gaunt arms bending to prevailing winds proclaimed the neighbourhood of the sea. Marguerite gazed on the picture which the waning moon had so suddenly revealed; but she gazed with eyes that knew not what they saw. The moon had risen on her right--there lay the east--and the coach must have been travelling due north, whereas Crecy... In the absolute silence that reigned she could perceive from far, very far away, the sound of a church clock striking the midnight hour; and now it seemed to her supersensitive senses that a firm footstep was treading the soft earth, a footstep that drew nearer--and then nearer still. Nature did pause to listen. The wind was hushed, the night-birds in the forest had gone to rest. Marguerite's heart beat so fast that its throbbings choked her, and a dizziness clouded her consciousness. But through this state of torpor she heard the opening of the carriage door, she felt the onrush of that pure, briny air, and she felt a long, burning kiss upon her hands. She thought then that she was really dead, and that God in His infinite love had opened to her the outer gates of Paradise. "My love!" she murmured. She was leaning back in the carriage and her eyes were closed, but she felt that firm fingers removed the irons from her wrists, and that a pair of warm lips were pressed there in their stead. "There, little woman, that's better so--is it not? Now let me get hold of poor old Armand!" It was Heaven, of course, else how could earth hold such heavenly joy? "Percy!" exclaimed Armand in an awed voice. "Hush, dear!" murmured Marguerite feebly; "we are in Heaven you and I--" Whereupon a ringing laugh woke the echoes of the silent night. "In Heaven, dear heart!" And the voice had a delicious earthly ring in its whole-hearted merriment. "Please God, you'll both be at Portel with me before dawn." Then she was indeed forced to believe. She put out her hands and groped for him, for it was dark inside the carriage; she groped, and felt his massive shoulders leaning across the body of the coach, while his fingers busied themselves with the irons on Armand's wrist. "Don't touch that brute's filthy coat with your dainty fingers, dear heart," he said gaily. "Great Lord! I have worn that wretch's clothes for over two hours; I feel as if the dirt had penetrated to my bones." Then with that gesture so habitual to him he took her head between his two hands, and drawing her to him until the wan light from without lit up the face that he worshipped, he gazed his fill into her eyes. She could only see the outline of his head silhouetted against the wind-tossed sky; she could not see his eyes, nor his lips, but she felt his nearness, and the happiness of that almost caused her to swoon. "Come out into the open, my lady fair," he murmured, and though she could not see, she could feel that he smiled; "let God's pure air blow through your hair and round your dear head. Then, if you can walk so far, there's a small half-way house close by here. I have knocked up the none too amiable host. You and Armand could have half an hour's rest there before we go further on our way." "But you, Percy?--are you safe?" "Yes, m'dear, we are all of us safe until morning-time enough to reach Le Portel, and to be aboard the Day-Dream before mine amiable friend M. Chambertin has discovered his worthy colleague lying gagged and bound inside the chapel of the Holy Sepulchre. By Gad! how old Heron will curse--the moment he can open his mouth!" He half helped, half lifted her out of the carriage. The strong pure air suddenly rushing right through to her lungs made her feel faint, and she almost fell. But it was good to feel herself falling, when one pair of arms amongst the millions on the earth were there to receive her. "Can you walk, dear heart?" he asked. "Lean well on me--it is not far, and the rest will do you good." "But you, Percy--" He laughed, and the most complete joy of living seemed to resound through that laugh. Her arm was in his, and for one moment he stood still while his eyes swept the far reaches of the country, the mellow distance still wrapped in its mantle of indigo, still untouched by the mysterious light of the waning moon. He pressed her arm against his heart, but his right hand was stretched out towards the black wall of the forest behind him, towards the dark crests of the pines in which the dying wind sent its last mournful sighs. "Dear heart," he said, and his voice quivered with the intensity of his excitement, "beyond the stretch of that wood, from far away over there, there are cries and moans of anguish that come to my ear even now. But for you, dear, I would cross that wood to-night and re-enter Paris to-morrow. But for you, dear--but for you," he reiterated earnestly as he pressed her closer to him, for a bitter cry had risen to her lips. She went on in silence. Her happiness was great--as great as was her pain. She had found him again, the man whom she worshipped, the husband whom she thought never to see again on earth. She had found him, and not even now--not after those terrible weeks of misery and suffering unspeakable--could she feel that love had triumphed over the wild, adventurous spirit, the reckless enthusiasm, the ardour of self-sacrifice. CHAPTER XLIX. THE LAND OF ELDORADO It seems that in the pocket of Heron's coat there was a letter-case with some few hundred francs. It was amusing to think that the brute's money helped to bribe the ill-tempered keeper of the half-way house to receive guests at midnight, and to ply them well with food, drink, and the shelter of a stuffy coffee-room. Marguerite sat silently beside her husband, her hand in his. Armand, opposite to them, had both elbows on the table. He looked pale and wan, with a bandage across his forehead, and his glowing eyes were resting on his chief. "Yes! you demmed young idiot," said Blakeney merrily, "you nearly upset my plan in the end, with your yelling and screaming outside the chapel gates." "I wanted to get to you, Percy. I thought those brutes had got you there inside that building." "Not they!" he exclaimed. "It was my friend Heron whom they had trussed and gagged, and whom my amiable friend M. Chambertin will find in there to-morrow morning. By Gad! I would go back if only for the pleasure of hearing Heron curse when first the gag is taken from his mouth." "But how was it all done, Percy? And there was de Batz--" "De Batz was part of the scheme I had planned for mine own escape before I knew that those brutes meant to take Marguerite and you as hostages for my good behaviour. What I hoped then was that under cover of a tussle or a fight I could somehow or other contrive to slip through their fingers. It was a chance, and you know my belief in bald-headed Fortune, with the one solitary hair. Well, I meant to grab that hair; and at the worst I could but die in the open and not caged in that awful hole like some noxious vermin. I knew that de Batz would rise to the bait. I told him in my letter that the Dauphin would be at the Chateau d'Ourde this night, but that I feared the revolutionary Government had got wind of this fact, and were sending an armed escort to bring the lad away. This letter Ffoulkes took to him; I knew that he would make a vigorous effort to get the Dauphin into his hands, and that during the scuffle that one hair on Fortune's head would for one second only, mayhap, come within my reach. I had so planned the expedition that we were bound to arrive at the forest of Boulogne by nightfall, and night is always a useful ally. But at the guard-house of the Rue Ste. Anne I realised for the first time that those brutes had pressed me into a tighter corner than I had pre-conceived." He paused, and once again that look of recklessness swept over his face, and his eyes--still hollow and circled--shone with the excitement of past memories. "I was such a weak, miserable wretch, then," he said, in answer to Marguerite's appeal. "I had to try and build up some strength, when--Heaven forgive me for the sacrilege--I had unwittingly risked your precious life, dear heart, in that blind endeavour to save mine own. By Gad! it was no easy task in that jolting vehicle with that noisome wretch beside me for sole company; yet I ate and I drank and I slept for three days and two nights, until the hour when in the darkness I struck Heron from behind, half-strangled him first, then gagged him, and finally slipped into his filthy coat and put that loathsome bandage across my head, and his battered hat above it all. The yell he gave when first I attacked him made every horse rear--you must remember it--the noise effectually drowned our last scuffle in the coach. Chauvelin was the only man who might have suspected what had occurred, but he had gone on ahead, and bald-headed Fortune had passed by me, and I had managed to grab its one hair. After that it was all quite easy. The sergeant and the soldiers had seen very little of Heron and nothing of me; it did not take a great effort to deceive them, and the darkness of the night was my most faithful friend. His raucous voice was not difficult to imitate, and darkness always muffles and changes every tone. Anyway, it was not likely that those loutish soldiers would even remotely suspect the trick that was being played on them. The citizen agent's orders were promptly and implicitly obeyed. The men never even thought to wonder that after insisting on an escort of twenty he should drive off with two prisoners and only two men to guard them. If they did wonder, it was not theirs to question. Those two troopers are spending an uncomfortable night somewhere in the forest of Boulogne, each tied to a tree, and some two leagues apart one from the other. And now," he added gaily, "en voiture, my fair lady; and you, too, Armand. 'Tis seven leagues to Le Portel, and we must be there before dawn." "Sir Andrew's intention was to make for Calais first, there to open communication with the Day-Dream and then for Le Portel," said Marguerite; "after that he meant to strike back for the Chateau d'Ourde in search of me." "Then we'll still find him at Le Portel--I shall know how to lay hands on him; but you two must get aboard the Day-Dream at once, for Ffoulkes and I can always look after ourselves." It was one hour after midnight when--refreshed with food and rest--Marguerite, Armand and Sir Percy left the half-way house. Marguerite was standing in the doorway ready to go. Percy and Armand had gone ahead to bring the coach along. "Percy," whispered Armand, "Marguerite does not know?" "Of course she does not, you young fool," retorted Percy lightly. "If you try and tell her I think I would smash your head." "But you--" said the young man with sudden vehemence; "can you bear the sight of me? My God! when I think--" "Don't think, my good Armand--not of that anyway. Only think of the woman for whose sake you committed a crime--if she is pure and good, woo her and win her--not just now, for it were foolish to go back to Paris after her, but anon, when she comes to England and all these past days are forgotten--then love her as much as you can, Armand. Learn your lesson of love better than I have learnt mine; do not cause Jeanne Lange those tears of anguish which my mad spirit brings to your sister's eyes. You were right, Armand, when you said that I do not know how to love!" But on board the Day-Dream, when all danger was past, Marguerite felt that he did. End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of El Dorado, by Baroness Orczy *** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK EL DORADO *** ***** This file should be named 1752.txt or 1752.zip ***** This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: http://www.gutenberg.org/1/7/5/1752/ Produced by An Anonymous Volunteer Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will be renamed. Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. 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through the stillness of the night. Immediately after that the horses had been put at a more rapid pace, but it had seemed to Marguerite as if that one cry of pain had been repeated by several others which sounded more feeble and soon appeared to be dying away in the distance behind. The soldier who sat opposite to them must have heard the cry too, for he jumped up, as if wakened from sleep, and put his head out of the window. "Did you hear that cry, citizen?" he asked. But only a curse answered him, and a peremptory command not to lose sight of the prisoners by poking his head out of the window. "Did you hear the cry?" asked the soldier of Marguerite as he made haste to obey. "Yes! What could it be?" she murmured. "It seems dangerous to drive so fast in this darkness," muttered the soldier. After which remark he, with the stolidity peculiar to his kind, figuratively shrugged his shoulders, detaching himself, as it were, of the whole affair. "We should be out of the forest by now," he remarked in an undertone a little while later; "the way seemed shorter before." Just then the coach gave an unexpected lurch to one side, and after much groaning and creaking of axles and springs it came to a standstill, and the citizen agent was heard cursing loudly and then scrambling down from the box. The next moment the carriage-door was pulled open from without, and the harsh voice called out peremptorily: "Citizen soldier, here--quick!--quick!--curse you!--we'll have one of the horses down if you don't hurry!" The soldier struggled to his feet; it was never good to be slow in obeying the citizen agent's commands. He was half-asleep and no doubt numb with cold and long sitting still; to accelerate his movements he was suddenly gripped by the arm and dragged incontinently out of the coach. Then the door was slammed to again, either by a rough hand or a sudden gust of wind, Marguerite could not tell; she heard a cry of rage and one of terror, and Heron's raucous curses. She cowered in the corner of the carriage with Armand's head against her shoulder, and tried to close her ears to all those hideous sounds. Then suddenly all the sounds were hushed and all around everything became perfectly calm and still--so still that at first the silence oppressed her with a vague, nameless dread. It was as if Nature herself had paused, that she might listen; and the silence became more and more absolute, until Marguerite could hear Armand's soft, regular breathing close to her ear. The window nearest to her was open, and as she leaned forward with that paralysing sense of oppression a breath of pure air struck full upon her nostrils and brought with it a briny taste as if from the sea. It was not quite so dark; and there was a sense as of open country stretching out to the limits of the horizon. Overhead a vague greyish light suffused the sky, and the wind swept the clouds in great rolling banks right across that light. Marguerite gazed upward with a more calm feeling that was akin to gratitude. That pale light, though so wan and feeble, was thrice welcome after that inky blackness wherein shadows were less dark than the lights. She watched eagerly the bank of clouds driven by the dying gale. The light grew brighter and faintly golden, now the banks of clouds--storm-tossed and fleecy--raced past one another, parted and reunited like veils of unseen giant dancers waved by hands that controlled infinite space--advanced and rushed and slackened speed again--united and finally torn asunder to reveal the waning moon, honey-coloured and mysterious, rising as if from an invisible ocean far away. The wan pale light spread over the wide stretch of country, throwing over it as it spread dull tones of indigo and of blue. Here and there sparse, stunted trees with fringed gaunt arms bending to prevailing winds proclaimed the neighbourhood of the sea. Marguerite gazed on the picture which the waning moon had so suddenly revealed; but she gazed with eyes that knew not what they saw. The moon had risen on her right--there lay the east--and the coach must have been travelling due north, whereas Crecy... In the absolute silence that reigned she could perceive from far, very far away, the sound of a church clock striking the midnight hour; and now it seemed to her supersensitive senses that a firm footstep was treading the soft earth, a footstep that drew nearer--and then nearer still. Nature did pause to listen. The wind was hushed, the night-birds in the forest had gone to rest. Marguerite's heart beat so fast that its throbbings choked her, and a dizziness clouded her consciousness. But through this state of torpor she heard the opening of the carriage door, she felt the onrush of that pure, briny air, and she felt a long, burning kiss upon her hands. She thought then that she was really dead, and that God in His infinite love had opened to her the outer gates of Paradise. "My love!" she murmured. She was leaning back in the carriage and her eyes were closed, but she felt that firm fingers removed the irons from her wrists, and that a pair of warm lips were pressed there in their stead. "There, little woman, that's better so--is it not? Now let me get hold of poor old Armand!" It was Heaven, of course, else how could earth hold such heavenly joy? "Percy!" exclaimed Armand in an awed voice. "Hush, dear!" murmured Marguerite feebly; "we are in Heaven you and I--" Whereupon a ringing laugh woke the echoes of the silent night. "In Heaven, dear heart!" And the voice had a delicious earthly ring in its whole-hearted merriment. "Please God, you'll both be at Portel with me before dawn." Then she was indeed forced to believe. She put out her hands and groped for him, for it was dark inside the carriage; she groped, and felt his massive shoulders leaning across the body of the coach, while his fingers busied themselves with the irons on Armand's wrist. "Don't touch that brute's filthy coat with your dainty fingers, dear heart," he said gaily. "Great Lord! I have worn that wretch's clothes for over two hours; I feel as if the dirt had penetrated to my bones." Then with that gesture so habitual to him he took her head between his two hands, and drawing her to him until the wan light from without lit up the face that he worshipped, he gazed his fill into her eyes. She could only see the outline of his head silhouetted against the wind-tossed sky; she could not see his eyes, nor his lips, but she felt his nearness, and the happiness of that almost caused her to swoon. "Come out into the open, my lady fair," he murmured, and though she could not see, she could feel that he smiled; "let God's pure air blow through your hair and round your dear head. Then, if you can walk so far, there's a small half-way house close by here. I have knocked up the none too amiable host. You and Armand could have half an hour's rest there before we go further on our way." "But you, Percy?--are you safe?" "Yes, m'dear, we are all of us safe until morning-time enough to reach Le Portel, and to be aboard the Day-Dream before mine amiable friend M. Chambertin has discovered his worthy colleague lying gagged and bound inside the chapel of the Holy Sepulchre. By Gad! how old Heron will curse--the moment he can open his mouth!" He half helped, half lifted her out of the carriage. The strong pure air suddenly rushing right through to her lungs made her feel faint, and she almost fell. But it was good to feel herself falling, when one pair of arms amongst the millions on the earth were there to receive her. "Can you walk, dear heart?" he asked. "Lean well on me--it is not far, and the rest will do you good." "But you, Percy--" He laughed, and the most complete joy of living seemed to resound through that laugh. Her arm was in his, and for one moment he stood still while his eyes swept the far reaches of the country, the mellow distance still wrapped in its mantle of indigo, still untouched by the mysterious light of the waning moon. He pressed her arm against his heart, but his right hand was stretched out towards the black wall of the forest behind him, towards the dark crests of the pines in which the dying wind sent its last mournful sighs. "Dear heart," he said, and his voice quivered with the intensity of his excitement, "beyond the stretch of that wood, from far away over there, there are cries and moans of anguish that come to my ear even now. But for you, dear, I would cross that wood to-night and re-enter Paris to-morrow. But for you, dear--but for you," he reiterated earnestly as he pressed her closer to him, for a bitter cry had risen to her lips. She went on in silence. Her happiness was great--as great as was her pain. She had found him again, the man whom she worshipped, the husband whom she thought never to see again on earth. She had found him, and not even now--not after those terrible weeks of misery and suffering unspeakable--could she feel that love had triumphed over the wild, adventurous spirit, the reckless enthusiasm, the ardour of self-sacrifice. CHAPTER XLIX. THE LAND OF ELDORADO It seems that in the pocket of Heron's coat there was a letter-case with some few hundred francs. It was amusing to think that the brute's money helped to bribe the ill-tempered keeper of the half-way house to receive guests at midnight, and to ply them well with food, drink, and the shelter of a stuffy coffee-room. Marguerite sat silently beside her husband, her hand in his. Armand, opposite to them, had both elbows on the table. He looked pale and wan, with a bandage across his forehead, and his glowing eyes were resting on his chief. "Yes! you demmed young idiot," said Blakeney merrily, "you nearly upset my plan in the end, with your yelling and screaming outside the chapel gates." "I wanted to get to you, Percy. I thought those brutes had got you there inside that building." "Not they!" he exclaimed. "It was my friend Heron whom they had trussed and gagged, and whom my amiable friend M. Chambertin will find in there to-morrow morning. By Gad! I would go back if only for the pleasure of hearing Heron curse when first the gag is taken from his mouth." "But how was it all done, Percy? And there was de Batz--" "De Batz was part of the scheme I had planned for mine own escape before I knew that those brutes meant to take Marguerite and you as hostages for my good behaviour. What I hoped then was that under cover of a tussle or a fight I could somehow or other contrive to slip through their fingers. It was a chance, and you know my belief in bald-headed Fortune, with the one solitary hair. Well, I meant to grab that hair; and at the worst I could but die in the open and not caged in that awful hole like some noxious vermin. I knew that de Batz would rise to the bait. I told him in my letter that the Dauphin would be at the Chateau d'Ourde this night, but that I feared the revolutionary Government had got wind of this fact, and were sending an armed escort to bring the lad away. This letter Ffoulkes took to him; I knew that he would make a vigorous effort to get the Dauphin into his hands, and that during the scuffle that one hair on Fortune's head would for one second only, mayhap, come within my reach. I had so planned the expedition that we were bound to arrive at the forest of Boulogne by nightfall, and night is always a useful ally. But at the guard-house of the Rue Ste. Anne I realised for the first time that those brutes had pressed me into a tighter corner than I had pre-conceived." He paused, and once again that look of recklessness swept over his face, and his eyes--still hollow and circled--shone with the excitement of past memories. "I was such a weak, miserable wretch, then," he said, in answer to Marguerite's appeal. "I had to try and build up some strength, when--Heaven forgive me for the sacrilege--I had unwittingly risked your precious life, dear heart, in that blind endeavour to save mine own. By Gad! it was no easy task in that jolting vehicle with that noisome wretch beside me for sole company; yet I ate and I drank and I slept for three days and two nights, until the hour when in the darkness I struck Heron from behind, half-strangled him first, then gagged him, and finally slipped into his filthy coat and put that loathsome bandage across my head, and his battered hat above it all. The yell he gave when first I attacked him made every horse rear--you must remember it--the noise effectually drowned our last scuffle in the coach. Chauvelin was the only man who might have suspected what had occurred, but he had gone on ahead, and bald-headed Fortune had passed by me, and I had managed to grab its one hair. After that it was all quite easy. The sergeant and the soldiers had seen very little of Heron and nothing of me; it did not take a great effort to deceive them, and the darkness of the night was my most faithful friend. His raucous voice was not difficult to imitate, and darkness always muffles and changes every tone. Anyway, it was not likely that those loutish soldiers would even remotely suspect the trick that was being played on them. The citizen agent's orders were promptly and implicitly obeyed. The men never even thought to wonder that after insisting on an escort of twenty he should drive off with two prisoners and only two men to guard them. If they did wonder, it was not theirs to question. Those two troopers are spending an uncomfortable night somewhere in the forest of Boulogne, each tied to a tree, and some two leagues apart one from the other. And now," he added gaily, "en voiture, my fair lady; and you, too, Armand. 'Tis seven leagues to Le Portel, and we must be there before dawn." "Sir Andrew's intention was to make for Calais first, there to open communication with the Day-Dream and then for Le Portel," said Marguerite; "after that he meant to strike back for the Chateau d'Ourde in search of me." "Then we'll still find him at Le Portel--I shall know how to lay hands on him; but you two must get aboard the Day-Dream at once, for Ffoulkes and I can always look after ourselves." It was one hour after midnight when--refreshed with food and rest--Marguerite, Armand and Sir Percy left the half-way house. Marguerite was standing in the doorway ready to go. Percy and Armand had gone ahead to bring the coach along. "Percy," whispered Armand, "Marguerite does not know?" "Of course she does not, you young fool," retorted Percy lightly. "If you try and tell her I think I would smash your head." "But you--" said the young man with sudden vehemence; "can you bear the sight of me? My God! when I think--" "Don't think, my good Armand--not of that anyway. Only think of the woman for whose sake you committed a crime--if she is pure and good, woo her and win her--not just now, for it were foolish to go back to Paris after her, but anon, when she comes to England and all these past days are forgotten--then love her as much as you can, Armand. Learn your lesson of love better than I have learnt mine; do not cause Jeanne Lange those tears of anguish which my mad spirit brings to your sister's eyes. You were right, Armand, when you said that I do not know how to love!" But on board the Day-Dream, when all danger was past, Marguerite felt that he did. 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performing

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through the stillness of the night. Immediately after that the horses had been put at a more rapid pace, but it had seemed to Marguerite as if that one cry of pain had been repeated by several others which sounded more feeble and soon appeared to be dying away in the distance behind. The soldier who sat opposite to them must have heard the cry too, for he jumped up, as if wakened from sleep, and put his head out of the window. "Did you hear that cry, citizen?" he asked. But only a curse answered him, and a peremptory command not to lose sight of the prisoners by poking his head out of the window. "Did you hear the cry?" asked the soldier of Marguerite as he made haste to obey. "Yes! What could it be?" she murmured. "It seems dangerous to drive so fast in this darkness," muttered the soldier. After which remark he, with the stolidity peculiar to his kind, figuratively shrugged his shoulders, detaching himself, as it were, of the whole affair. "We should be out of the forest by now," he remarked in an undertone a little while later; "the way seemed shorter before." Just then the coach gave an unexpected lurch to one side, and after much groaning and creaking of axles and springs it came to a standstill, and the citizen agent was heard cursing loudly and then scrambling down from the box. The next moment the carriage-door was pulled open from without, and the harsh voice called out peremptorily: "Citizen soldier, here--quick!--quick!--curse you!--we'll have one of the horses down if you don't hurry!" The soldier struggled to his feet; it was never good to be slow in obeying the citizen agent's commands. He was half-asleep and no doubt numb with cold and long sitting still; to accelerate his movements he was suddenly gripped by the arm and dragged incontinently out of the coach. Then the door was slammed to again, either by a rough hand or a sudden gust of wind, Marguerite could not tell; she heard a cry of rage and one of terror, and Heron's raucous curses. She cowered in the corner of the carriage with Armand's head against her shoulder, and tried to close her ears to all those hideous sounds. Then suddenly all the sounds were hushed and all around everything became perfectly calm and still--so still that at first the silence oppressed her with a vague, nameless dread. It was as if Nature herself had paused, that she might listen; and the silence became more and more absolute, until Marguerite could hear Armand's soft, regular breathing close to her ear. The window nearest to her was open, and as she leaned forward with that paralysing sense of oppression a breath of pure air struck full upon her nostrils and brought with it a briny taste as if from the sea. It was not quite so dark; and there was a sense as of open country stretching out to the limits of the horizon. Overhead a vague greyish light suffused the sky, and the wind swept the clouds in great rolling banks right across that light. Marguerite gazed upward with a more calm feeling that was akin to gratitude. That pale light, though so wan and feeble, was thrice welcome after that inky blackness wherein shadows were less dark than the lights. She watched eagerly the bank of clouds driven by the dying gale. The light grew brighter and faintly golden, now the banks of clouds--storm-tossed and fleecy--raced past one another, parted and reunited like veils of unseen giant dancers waved by hands that controlled infinite space--advanced and rushed and slackened speed again--united and finally torn asunder to reveal the waning moon, honey-coloured and mysterious, rising as if from an invisible ocean far away. The wan pale light spread over the wide stretch of country, throwing over it as it spread dull tones of indigo and of blue. Here and there sparse, stunted trees with fringed gaunt arms bending to prevailing winds proclaimed the neighbourhood of the sea. Marguerite gazed on the picture which the waning moon had so suddenly revealed; but she gazed with eyes that knew not what they saw. The moon had risen on her right--there lay the east--and the coach must have been travelling due north, whereas Crecy... In the absolute silence that reigned she could perceive from far, very far away, the sound of a church clock striking the midnight hour; and now it seemed to her supersensitive senses that a firm footstep was treading the soft earth, a footstep that drew nearer--and then nearer still. Nature did pause to listen. The wind was hushed, the night-birds in the forest had gone to rest. Marguerite's heart beat so fast that its throbbings choked her, and a dizziness clouded her consciousness. But through this state of torpor she heard the opening of the carriage door, she felt the onrush of that pure, briny air, and she felt a long, burning kiss upon her hands. She thought then that she was really dead, and that God in His infinite love had opened to her the outer gates of Paradise. "My love!" she murmured. She was leaning back in the carriage and her eyes were closed, but she felt that firm fingers removed the irons from her wrists, and that a pair of warm lips were pressed there in their stead. "There, little woman, that's better so--is it not? Now let me get hold of poor old Armand!" It was Heaven, of course, else how could earth hold such heavenly joy? "Percy!" exclaimed Armand in an awed voice. "Hush, dear!" murmured Marguerite feebly; "we are in Heaven you and I--" Whereupon a ringing laugh woke the echoes of the silent night. "In Heaven, dear heart!" And the voice had a delicious earthly ring in its whole-hearted merriment. "Please God, you'll both be at Portel with me before dawn." Then she was indeed forced to believe. She put out her hands and groped for him, for it was dark inside the carriage; she groped, and felt his massive shoulders leaning across the body of the coach, while his fingers busied themselves with the irons on Armand's wrist. "Don't touch that brute's filthy coat with your dainty fingers, dear heart," he said gaily. "Great Lord! I have worn that wretch's clothes for over two hours; I feel as if the dirt had penetrated to my bones." Then with that gesture so habitual to him he took her head between his two hands, and drawing her to him until the wan light from without lit up the face that he worshipped, he gazed his fill into her eyes. She could only see the outline of his head silhouetted against the wind-tossed sky; she could not see his eyes, nor his lips, but she felt his nearness, and the happiness of that almost caused her to swoon. "Come out into the open, my lady fair," he murmured, and though she could not see, she could feel that he smiled; "let God's pure air blow through your hair and round your dear head. Then, if you can walk so far, there's a small half-way house close by here. I have knocked up the none too amiable host. You and Armand could have half an hour's rest there before we go further on our way." "But you, Percy?--are you safe?" "Yes, m'dear, we are all of us safe until morning-time enough to reach Le Portel, and to be aboard the Day-Dream before mine amiable friend M. Chambertin has discovered his worthy colleague lying gagged and bound inside the chapel of the Holy Sepulchre. By Gad! how old Heron will curse--the moment he can open his mouth!" He half helped, half lifted her out of the carriage. The strong pure air suddenly rushing right through to her lungs made her feel faint, and she almost fell. But it was good to feel herself falling, when one pair of arms amongst the millions on the earth were there to receive her. "Can you walk, dear heart?" he asked. "Lean well on me--it is not far, and the rest will do you good." "But you, Percy--" He laughed, and the most complete joy of living seemed to resound through that laugh. Her arm was in his, and for one moment he stood still while his eyes swept the far reaches of the country, the mellow distance still wrapped in its mantle of indigo, still untouched by the mysterious light of the waning moon. He pressed her arm against his heart, but his right hand was stretched out towards the black wall of the forest behind him, towards the dark crests of the pines in which the dying wind sent its last mournful sighs. "Dear heart," he said, and his voice quivered with the intensity of his excitement, "beyond the stretch of that wood, from far away over there, there are cries and moans of anguish that come to my ear even now. But for you, dear, I would cross that wood to-night and re-enter Paris to-morrow. But for you, dear--but for you," he reiterated earnestly as he pressed her closer to him, for a bitter cry had risen to her lips. She went on in silence. Her happiness was great--as great as was her pain. She had found him again, the man whom she worshipped, the husband whom she thought never to see again on earth. She had found him, and not even now--not after those terrible weeks of misery and suffering unspeakable--could she feel that love had triumphed over the wild, adventurous spirit, the reckless enthusiasm, the ardour of self-sacrifice. CHAPTER XLIX. THE LAND OF ELDORADO It seems that in the pocket of Heron's coat there was a letter-case with some few hundred francs. It was amusing to think that the brute's money helped to bribe the ill-tempered keeper of the half-way house to receive guests at midnight, and to ply them well with food, drink, and the shelter of a stuffy coffee-room. Marguerite sat silently beside her husband, her hand in his. Armand, opposite to them, had both elbows on the table. He looked pale and wan, with a bandage across his forehead, and his glowing eyes were resting on his chief. "Yes! you demmed young idiot," said Blakeney merrily, "you nearly upset my plan in the end, with your yelling and screaming outside the chapel gates." "I wanted to get to you, Percy. I thought those brutes had got you there inside that building." "Not they!" he exclaimed. "It was my friend Heron whom they had trussed and gagged, and whom my amiable friend M. Chambertin will find in there to-morrow morning. By Gad! I would go back if only for the pleasure of hearing Heron curse when first the gag is taken from his mouth." "But how was it all done, Percy? And there was de Batz--" "De Batz was part of the scheme I had planned for mine own escape before I knew that those brutes meant to take Marguerite and you as hostages for my good behaviour. What I hoped then was that under cover of a tussle or a fight I could somehow or other contrive to slip through their fingers. It was a chance, and you know my belief in bald-headed Fortune, with the one solitary hair. Well, I meant to grab that hair; and at the worst I could but die in the open and not caged in that awful hole like some noxious vermin. I knew that de Batz would rise to the bait. I told him in my letter that the Dauphin would be at the Chateau d'Ourde this night, but that I feared the revolutionary Government had got wind of this fact, and were sending an armed escort to bring the lad away. This letter Ffoulkes took to him; I knew that he would make a vigorous effort to get the Dauphin into his hands, and that during the scuffle that one hair on Fortune's head would for one second only, mayhap, come within my reach. I had so planned the expedition that we were bound to arrive at the forest of Boulogne by nightfall, and night is always a useful ally. But at the guard-house of the Rue Ste. Anne I realised for the first time that those brutes had pressed me into a tighter corner than I had pre-conceived." He paused, and once again that look of recklessness swept over his face, and his eyes--still hollow and circled--shone with the excitement of past memories. "I was such a weak, miserable wretch, then," he said, in answer to Marguerite's appeal. "I had to try and build up some strength, when--Heaven forgive me for the sacrilege--I had unwittingly risked your precious life, dear heart, in that blind endeavour to save mine own. By Gad! it was no easy task in that jolting vehicle with that noisome wretch beside me for sole company; yet I ate and I drank and I slept for three days and two nights, until the hour when in the darkness I struck Heron from behind, half-strangled him first, then gagged him, and finally slipped into his filthy coat and put that loathsome bandage across my head, and his battered hat above it all. The yell he gave when first I attacked him made every horse rear--you must remember it--the noise effectually drowned our last scuffle in the coach. Chauvelin was the only man who might have suspected what had occurred, but he had gone on ahead, and bald-headed Fortune had passed by me, and I had managed to grab its one hair. After that it was all quite easy. The sergeant and the soldiers had seen very little of Heron and nothing of me; it did not take a great effort to deceive them, and the darkness of the night was my most faithful friend. His raucous voice was not difficult to imitate, and darkness always muffles and changes every tone. Anyway, it was not likely that those loutish soldiers would even remotely suspect the trick that was being played on them. The citizen agent's orders were promptly and implicitly obeyed. The men never even thought to wonder that after insisting on an escort of twenty he should drive off with two prisoners and only two men to guard them. If they did wonder, it was not theirs to question. Those two troopers are spending an uncomfortable night somewhere in the forest of Boulogne, each tied to a tree, and some two leagues apart one from the other. And now," he added gaily, "en voiture, my fair lady; and you, too, Armand. 'Tis seven leagues to Le Portel, and we must be there before dawn." "Sir Andrew's intention was to make for Calais first, there to open communication with the Day-Dream and then for Le Portel," said Marguerite; "after that he meant to strike back for the Chateau d'Ourde in search of me." "Then we'll still find him at Le Portel--I shall know how to lay hands on him; but you two must get aboard the Day-Dream at once, for Ffoulkes and I can always look after ourselves." It was one hour after midnight when--refreshed with food and rest--Marguerite, Armand and Sir Percy left the half-way house. Marguerite was standing in the doorway ready to go. Percy and Armand had gone ahead to bring the coach along. "Percy," whispered Armand, "Marguerite does not know?" "Of course she does not, you young fool," retorted Percy lightly. "If you try and tell her I think I would smash your head." "But you--" said the young man with sudden vehemence; "can you bear the sight of me? My God! when I think--" "Don't think, my good Armand--not of that anyway. Only think of the woman for whose sake you committed a crime--if she is pure and good, woo her and win her--not just now, for it were foolish to go back to Paris after her, but anon, when she comes to England and all these past days are forgotten--then love her as much as you can, Armand. Learn your lesson of love better than I have learnt mine; do not cause Jeanne Lange those tears of anguish which my mad spirit brings to your sister's eyes. You were right, Armand, when you said that I do not know how to love!" But on board the Day-Dream, when all danger was past, Marguerite felt that he did. 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pair

How many times the word 'pair' appears in the text?

through the stillness of the night. Immediately after that the horses had been put at a more rapid pace, but it had seemed to Marguerite as if that one cry of pain had been repeated by several others which sounded more feeble and soon appeared to be dying away in the distance behind. The soldier who sat opposite to them must have heard the cry too, for he jumped up, as if wakened from sleep, and put his head out of the window. "Did you hear that cry, citizen?" he asked. But only a curse answered him, and a peremptory command not to lose sight of the prisoners by poking his head out of the window. "Did you hear the cry?" asked the soldier of Marguerite as he made haste to obey. "Yes! What could it be?" she murmured. "It seems dangerous to drive so fast in this darkness," muttered the soldier. After which remark he, with the stolidity peculiar to his kind, figuratively shrugged his shoulders, detaching himself, as it were, of the whole affair. "We should be out of the forest by now," he remarked in an undertone a little while later; "the way seemed shorter before." Just then the coach gave an unexpected lurch to one side, and after much groaning and creaking of axles and springs it came to a standstill, and the citizen agent was heard cursing loudly and then scrambling down from the box. The next moment the carriage-door was pulled open from without, and the harsh voice called out peremptorily: "Citizen soldier, here--quick!--quick!--curse you!--we'll have one of the horses down if you don't hurry!" The soldier struggled to his feet; it was never good to be slow in obeying the citizen agent's commands. He was half-asleep and no doubt numb with cold and long sitting still; to accelerate his movements he was suddenly gripped by the arm and dragged incontinently out of the coach. Then the door was slammed to again, either by a rough hand or a sudden gust of wind, Marguerite could not tell; she heard a cry of rage and one of terror, and Heron's raucous curses. She cowered in the corner of the carriage with Armand's head against her shoulder, and tried to close her ears to all those hideous sounds. Then suddenly all the sounds were hushed and all around everything became perfectly calm and still--so still that at first the silence oppressed her with a vague, nameless dread. It was as if Nature herself had paused, that she might listen; and the silence became more and more absolute, until Marguerite could hear Armand's soft, regular breathing close to her ear. The window nearest to her was open, and as she leaned forward with that paralysing sense of oppression a breath of pure air struck full upon her nostrils and brought with it a briny taste as if from the sea. It was not quite so dark; and there was a sense as of open country stretching out to the limits of the horizon. Overhead a vague greyish light suffused the sky, and the wind swept the clouds in great rolling banks right across that light. Marguerite gazed upward with a more calm feeling that was akin to gratitude. That pale light, though so wan and feeble, was thrice welcome after that inky blackness wherein shadows were less dark than the lights. She watched eagerly the bank of clouds driven by the dying gale. The light grew brighter and faintly golden, now the banks of clouds--storm-tossed and fleecy--raced past one another, parted and reunited like veils of unseen giant dancers waved by hands that controlled infinite space--advanced and rushed and slackened speed again--united and finally torn asunder to reveal the waning moon, honey-coloured and mysterious, rising as if from an invisible ocean far away. The wan pale light spread over the wide stretch of country, throwing over it as it spread dull tones of indigo and of blue. Here and there sparse, stunted trees with fringed gaunt arms bending to prevailing winds proclaimed the neighbourhood of the sea. Marguerite gazed on the picture which the waning moon had so suddenly revealed; but she gazed with eyes that knew not what they saw. The moon had risen on her right--there lay the east--and the coach must have been travelling due north, whereas Crecy... In the absolute silence that reigned she could perceive from far, very far away, the sound of a church clock striking the midnight hour; and now it seemed to her supersensitive senses that a firm footstep was treading the soft earth, a footstep that drew nearer--and then nearer still. Nature did pause to listen. The wind was hushed, the night-birds in the forest had gone to rest. Marguerite's heart beat so fast that its throbbings choked her, and a dizziness clouded her consciousness. But through this state of torpor she heard the opening of the carriage door, she felt the onrush of that pure, briny air, and she felt a long, burning kiss upon her hands. She thought then that she was really dead, and that God in His infinite love had opened to her the outer gates of Paradise. "My love!" she murmured. She was leaning back in the carriage and her eyes were closed, but she felt that firm fingers removed the irons from her wrists, and that a pair of warm lips were pressed there in their stead. "There, little woman, that's better so--is it not? Now let me get hold of poor old Armand!" It was Heaven, of course, else how could earth hold such heavenly joy? "Percy!" exclaimed Armand in an awed voice. "Hush, dear!" murmured Marguerite feebly; "we are in Heaven you and I--" Whereupon a ringing laugh woke the echoes of the silent night. "In Heaven, dear heart!" And the voice had a delicious earthly ring in its whole-hearted merriment. "Please God, you'll both be at Portel with me before dawn." Then she was indeed forced to believe. She put out her hands and groped for him, for it was dark inside the carriage; she groped, and felt his massive shoulders leaning across the body of the coach, while his fingers busied themselves with the irons on Armand's wrist. "Don't touch that brute's filthy coat with your dainty fingers, dear heart," he said gaily. "Great Lord! I have worn that wretch's clothes for over two hours; I feel as if the dirt had penetrated to my bones." Then with that gesture so habitual to him he took her head between his two hands, and drawing her to him until the wan light from without lit up the face that he worshipped, he gazed his fill into her eyes. She could only see the outline of his head silhouetted against the wind-tossed sky; she could not see his eyes, nor his lips, but she felt his nearness, and the happiness of that almost caused her to swoon. "Come out into the open, my lady fair," he murmured, and though she could not see, she could feel that he smiled; "let God's pure air blow through your hair and round your dear head. Then, if you can walk so far, there's a small half-way house close by here. I have knocked up the none too amiable host. You and Armand could have half an hour's rest there before we go further on our way." "But you, Percy?--are you safe?" "Yes, m'dear, we are all of us safe until morning-time enough to reach Le Portel, and to be aboard the Day-Dream before mine amiable friend M. Chambertin has discovered his worthy colleague lying gagged and bound inside the chapel of the Holy Sepulchre. By Gad! how old Heron will curse--the moment he can open his mouth!" He half helped, half lifted her out of the carriage. The strong pure air suddenly rushing right through to her lungs made her feel faint, and she almost fell. But it was good to feel herself falling, when one pair of arms amongst the millions on the earth were there to receive her. "Can you walk, dear heart?" he asked. "Lean well on me--it is not far, and the rest will do you good." "But you, Percy--" He laughed, and the most complete joy of living seemed to resound through that laugh. Her arm was in his, and for one moment he stood still while his eyes swept the far reaches of the country, the mellow distance still wrapped in its mantle of indigo, still untouched by the mysterious light of the waning moon. He pressed her arm against his heart, but his right hand was stretched out towards the black wall of the forest behind him, towards the dark crests of the pines in which the dying wind sent its last mournful sighs. "Dear heart," he said, and his voice quivered with the intensity of his excitement, "beyond the stretch of that wood, from far away over there, there are cries and moans of anguish that come to my ear even now. But for you, dear, I would cross that wood to-night and re-enter Paris to-morrow. But for you, dear--but for you," he reiterated earnestly as he pressed her closer to him, for a bitter cry had risen to her lips. She went on in silence. Her happiness was great--as great as was her pain. She had found him again, the man whom she worshipped, the husband whom she thought never to see again on earth. She had found him, and not even now--not after those terrible weeks of misery and suffering unspeakable--could she feel that love had triumphed over the wild, adventurous spirit, the reckless enthusiasm, the ardour of self-sacrifice. CHAPTER XLIX. THE LAND OF ELDORADO It seems that in the pocket of Heron's coat there was a letter-case with some few hundred francs. It was amusing to think that the brute's money helped to bribe the ill-tempered keeper of the half-way house to receive guests at midnight, and to ply them well with food, drink, and the shelter of a stuffy coffee-room. Marguerite sat silently beside her husband, her hand in his. Armand, opposite to them, had both elbows on the table. He looked pale and wan, with a bandage across his forehead, and his glowing eyes were resting on his chief. "Yes! you demmed young idiot," said Blakeney merrily, "you nearly upset my plan in the end, with your yelling and screaming outside the chapel gates." "I wanted to get to you, Percy. I thought those brutes had got you there inside that building." "Not they!" he exclaimed. "It was my friend Heron whom they had trussed and gagged, and whom my amiable friend M. Chambertin will find in there to-morrow morning. By Gad! I would go back if only for the pleasure of hearing Heron curse when first the gag is taken from his mouth." "But how was it all done, Percy? And there was de Batz--" "De Batz was part of the scheme I had planned for mine own escape before I knew that those brutes meant to take Marguerite and you as hostages for my good behaviour. What I hoped then was that under cover of a tussle or a fight I could somehow or other contrive to slip through their fingers. It was a chance, and you know my belief in bald-headed Fortune, with the one solitary hair. Well, I meant to grab that hair; and at the worst I could but die in the open and not caged in that awful hole like some noxious vermin. I knew that de Batz would rise to the bait. I told him in my letter that the Dauphin would be at the Chateau d'Ourde this night, but that I feared the revolutionary Government had got wind of this fact, and were sending an armed escort to bring the lad away. This letter Ffoulkes took to him; I knew that he would make a vigorous effort to get the Dauphin into his hands, and that during the scuffle that one hair on Fortune's head would for one second only, mayhap, come within my reach. I had so planned the expedition that we were bound to arrive at the forest of Boulogne by nightfall, and night is always a useful ally. But at the guard-house of the Rue Ste. Anne I realised for the first time that those brutes had pressed me into a tighter corner than I had pre-conceived." He paused, and once again that look of recklessness swept over his face, and his eyes--still hollow and circled--shone with the excitement of past memories. "I was such a weak, miserable wretch, then," he said, in answer to Marguerite's appeal. "I had to try and build up some strength, when--Heaven forgive me for the sacrilege--I had unwittingly risked your precious life, dear heart, in that blind endeavour to save mine own. By Gad! it was no easy task in that jolting vehicle with that noisome wretch beside me for sole company; yet I ate and I drank and I slept for three days and two nights, until the hour when in the darkness I struck Heron from behind, half-strangled him first, then gagged him, and finally slipped into his filthy coat and put that loathsome bandage across my head, and his battered hat above it all. The yell he gave when first I attacked him made every horse rear--you must remember it--the noise effectually drowned our last scuffle in the coach. Chauvelin was the only man who might have suspected what had occurred, but he had gone on ahead, and bald-headed Fortune had passed by me, and I had managed to grab its one hair. After that it was all quite easy. The sergeant and the soldiers had seen very little of Heron and nothing of me; it did not take a great effort to deceive them, and the darkness of the night was my most faithful friend. His raucous voice was not difficult to imitate, and darkness always muffles and changes every tone. Anyway, it was not likely that those loutish soldiers would even remotely suspect the trick that was being played on them. The citizen agent's orders were promptly and implicitly obeyed. The men never even thought to wonder that after insisting on an escort of twenty he should drive off with two prisoners and only two men to guard them. If they did wonder, it was not theirs to question. Those two troopers are spending an uncomfortable night somewhere in the forest of Boulogne, each tied to a tree, and some two leagues apart one from the other. And now," he added gaily, "en voiture, my fair lady; and you, too, Armand. 'Tis seven leagues to Le Portel, and we must be there before dawn." "Sir Andrew's intention was to make for Calais first, there to open communication with the Day-Dream and then for Le Portel," said Marguerite; "after that he meant to strike back for the Chateau d'Ourde in search of me." "Then we'll still find him at Le Portel--I shall know how to lay hands on him; but you two must get aboard the Day-Dream at once, for Ffoulkes and I can always look after ourselves." It was one hour after midnight when--refreshed with food and rest--Marguerite, Armand and Sir Percy left the half-way house. Marguerite was standing in the doorway ready to go. Percy and Armand had gone ahead to bring the coach along. "Percy," whispered Armand, "Marguerite does not know?" "Of course she does not, you young fool," retorted Percy lightly. "If you try and tell her I think I would smash your head." "But you--" said the young man with sudden vehemence; "can you bear the sight of me? My God! when I think--" "Don't think, my good Armand--not of that anyway. Only think of the woman for whose sake you committed a crime--if she is pure and good, woo her and win her--not just now, for it were foolish to go back to Paris after her, but anon, when she comes to England and all these past days are forgotten--then love her as much as you can, Armand. Learn your lesson of love better than I have learnt mine; do not cause Jeanne Lange those tears of anguish which my mad spirit brings to your sister's eyes. You were right, Armand, when you said that I do not know how to love!" But on board the Day-Dream, when all danger was past, Marguerite felt that he did. 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olive

How many times the word 'olive' appears in the text?

through the stillness of the night. Immediately after that the horses had been put at a more rapid pace, but it had seemed to Marguerite as if that one cry of pain had been repeated by several others which sounded more feeble and soon appeared to be dying away in the distance behind. The soldier who sat opposite to them must have heard the cry too, for he jumped up, as if wakened from sleep, and put his head out of the window. "Did you hear that cry, citizen?" he asked. But only a curse answered him, and a peremptory command not to lose sight of the prisoners by poking his head out of the window. "Did you hear the cry?" asked the soldier of Marguerite as he made haste to obey. "Yes! What could it be?" she murmured. "It seems dangerous to drive so fast in this darkness," muttered the soldier. After which remark he, with the stolidity peculiar to his kind, figuratively shrugged his shoulders, detaching himself, as it were, of the whole affair. "We should be out of the forest by now," he remarked in an undertone a little while later; "the way seemed shorter before." Just then the coach gave an unexpected lurch to one side, and after much groaning and creaking of axles and springs it came to a standstill, and the citizen agent was heard cursing loudly and then scrambling down from the box. The next moment the carriage-door was pulled open from without, and the harsh voice called out peremptorily: "Citizen soldier, here--quick!--quick!--curse you!--we'll have one of the horses down if you don't hurry!" The soldier struggled to his feet; it was never good to be slow in obeying the citizen agent's commands. He was half-asleep and no doubt numb with cold and long sitting still; to accelerate his movements he was suddenly gripped by the arm and dragged incontinently out of the coach. Then the door was slammed to again, either by a rough hand or a sudden gust of wind, Marguerite could not tell; she heard a cry of rage and one of terror, and Heron's raucous curses. She cowered in the corner of the carriage with Armand's head against her shoulder, and tried to close her ears to all those hideous sounds. Then suddenly all the sounds were hushed and all around everything became perfectly calm and still--so still that at first the silence oppressed her with a vague, nameless dread. It was as if Nature herself had paused, that she might listen; and the silence became more and more absolute, until Marguerite could hear Armand's soft, regular breathing close to her ear. The window nearest to her was open, and as she leaned forward with that paralysing sense of oppression a breath of pure air struck full upon her nostrils and brought with it a briny taste as if from the sea. It was not quite so dark; and there was a sense as of open country stretching out to the limits of the horizon. Overhead a vague greyish light suffused the sky, and the wind swept the clouds in great rolling banks right across that light. Marguerite gazed upward with a more calm feeling that was akin to gratitude. That pale light, though so wan and feeble, was thrice welcome after that inky blackness wherein shadows were less dark than the lights. She watched eagerly the bank of clouds driven by the dying gale. The light grew brighter and faintly golden, now the banks of clouds--storm-tossed and fleecy--raced past one another, parted and reunited like veils of unseen giant dancers waved by hands that controlled infinite space--advanced and rushed and slackened speed again--united and finally torn asunder to reveal the waning moon, honey-coloured and mysterious, rising as if from an invisible ocean far away. The wan pale light spread over the wide stretch of country, throwing over it as it spread dull tones of indigo and of blue. Here and there sparse, stunted trees with fringed gaunt arms bending to prevailing winds proclaimed the neighbourhood of the sea. Marguerite gazed on the picture which the waning moon had so suddenly revealed; but she gazed with eyes that knew not what they saw. The moon had risen on her right--there lay the east--and the coach must have been travelling due north, whereas Crecy... In the absolute silence that reigned she could perceive from far, very far away, the sound of a church clock striking the midnight hour; and now it seemed to her supersensitive senses that a firm footstep was treading the soft earth, a footstep that drew nearer--and then nearer still. Nature did pause to listen. The wind was hushed, the night-birds in the forest had gone to rest. Marguerite's heart beat so fast that its throbbings choked her, and a dizziness clouded her consciousness. But through this state of torpor she heard the opening of the carriage door, she felt the onrush of that pure, briny air, and she felt a long, burning kiss upon her hands. She thought then that she was really dead, and that God in His infinite love had opened to her the outer gates of Paradise. "My love!" she murmured. She was leaning back in the carriage and her eyes were closed, but she felt that firm fingers removed the irons from her wrists, and that a pair of warm lips were pressed there in their stead. "There, little woman, that's better so--is it not? Now let me get hold of poor old Armand!" It was Heaven, of course, else how could earth hold such heavenly joy? "Percy!" exclaimed Armand in an awed voice. "Hush, dear!" murmured Marguerite feebly; "we are in Heaven you and I--" Whereupon a ringing laugh woke the echoes of the silent night. "In Heaven, dear heart!" And the voice had a delicious earthly ring in its whole-hearted merriment. "Please God, you'll both be at Portel with me before dawn." Then she was indeed forced to believe. She put out her hands and groped for him, for it was dark inside the carriage; she groped, and felt his massive shoulders leaning across the body of the coach, while his fingers busied themselves with the irons on Armand's wrist. "Don't touch that brute's filthy coat with your dainty fingers, dear heart," he said gaily. "Great Lord! I have worn that wretch's clothes for over two hours; I feel as if the dirt had penetrated to my bones." Then with that gesture so habitual to him he took her head between his two hands, and drawing her to him until the wan light from without lit up the face that he worshipped, he gazed his fill into her eyes. She could only see the outline of his head silhouetted against the wind-tossed sky; she could not see his eyes, nor his lips, but she felt his nearness, and the happiness of that almost caused her to swoon. "Come out into the open, my lady fair," he murmured, and though she could not see, she could feel that he smiled; "let God's pure air blow through your hair and round your dear head. Then, if you can walk so far, there's a small half-way house close by here. I have knocked up the none too amiable host. You and Armand could have half an hour's rest there before we go further on our way." "But you, Percy?--are you safe?" "Yes, m'dear, we are all of us safe until morning-time enough to reach Le Portel, and to be aboard the Day-Dream before mine amiable friend M. Chambertin has discovered his worthy colleague lying gagged and bound inside the chapel of the Holy Sepulchre. By Gad! how old Heron will curse--the moment he can open his mouth!" He half helped, half lifted her out of the carriage. The strong pure air suddenly rushing right through to her lungs made her feel faint, and she almost fell. But it was good to feel herself falling, when one pair of arms amongst the millions on the earth were there to receive her. "Can you walk, dear heart?" he asked. "Lean well on me--it is not far, and the rest will do you good." "But you, Percy--" He laughed, and the most complete joy of living seemed to resound through that laugh. Her arm was in his, and for one moment he stood still while his eyes swept the far reaches of the country, the mellow distance still wrapped in its mantle of indigo, still untouched by the mysterious light of the waning moon. He pressed her arm against his heart, but his right hand was stretched out towards the black wall of the forest behind him, towards the dark crests of the pines in which the dying wind sent its last mournful sighs. "Dear heart," he said, and his voice quivered with the intensity of his excitement, "beyond the stretch of that wood, from far away over there, there are cries and moans of anguish that come to my ear even now. But for you, dear, I would cross that wood to-night and re-enter Paris to-morrow. But for you, dear--but for you," he reiterated earnestly as he pressed her closer to him, for a bitter cry had risen to her lips. She went on in silence. Her happiness was great--as great as was her pain. She had found him again, the man whom she worshipped, the husband whom she thought never to see again on earth. She had found him, and not even now--not after those terrible weeks of misery and suffering unspeakable--could she feel that love had triumphed over the wild, adventurous spirit, the reckless enthusiasm, the ardour of self-sacrifice. CHAPTER XLIX. THE LAND OF ELDORADO It seems that in the pocket of Heron's coat there was a letter-case with some few hundred francs. It was amusing to think that the brute's money helped to bribe the ill-tempered keeper of the half-way house to receive guests at midnight, and to ply them well with food, drink, and the shelter of a stuffy coffee-room. Marguerite sat silently beside her husband, her hand in his. Armand, opposite to them, had both elbows on the table. He looked pale and wan, with a bandage across his forehead, and his glowing eyes were resting on his chief. "Yes! you demmed young idiot," said Blakeney merrily, "you nearly upset my plan in the end, with your yelling and screaming outside the chapel gates." "I wanted to get to you, Percy. I thought those brutes had got you there inside that building." "Not they!" he exclaimed. "It was my friend Heron whom they had trussed and gagged, and whom my amiable friend M. Chambertin will find in there to-morrow morning. By Gad! I would go back if only for the pleasure of hearing Heron curse when first the gag is taken from his mouth." "But how was it all done, Percy? And there was de Batz--" "De Batz was part of the scheme I had planned for mine own escape before I knew that those brutes meant to take Marguerite and you as hostages for my good behaviour. What I hoped then was that under cover of a tussle or a fight I could somehow or other contrive to slip through their fingers. It was a chance, and you know my belief in bald-headed Fortune, with the one solitary hair. Well, I meant to grab that hair; and at the worst I could but die in the open and not caged in that awful hole like some noxious vermin. I knew that de Batz would rise to the bait. I told him in my letter that the Dauphin would be at the Chateau d'Ourde this night, but that I feared the revolutionary Government had got wind of this fact, and were sending an armed escort to bring the lad away. This letter Ffoulkes took to him; I knew that he would make a vigorous effort to get the Dauphin into his hands, and that during the scuffle that one hair on Fortune's head would for one second only, mayhap, come within my reach. I had so planned the expedition that we were bound to arrive at the forest of Boulogne by nightfall, and night is always a useful ally. But at the guard-house of the Rue Ste. Anne I realised for the first time that those brutes had pressed me into a tighter corner than I had pre-conceived." He paused, and once again that look of recklessness swept over his face, and his eyes--still hollow and circled--shone with the excitement of past memories. "I was such a weak, miserable wretch, then," he said, in answer to Marguerite's appeal. "I had to try and build up some strength, when--Heaven forgive me for the sacrilege--I had unwittingly risked your precious life, dear heart, in that blind endeavour to save mine own. By Gad! it was no easy task in that jolting vehicle with that noisome wretch beside me for sole company; yet I ate and I drank and I slept for three days and two nights, until the hour when in the darkness I struck Heron from behind, half-strangled him first, then gagged him, and finally slipped into his filthy coat and put that loathsome bandage across my head, and his battered hat above it all. The yell he gave when first I attacked him made every horse rear--you must remember it--the noise effectually drowned our last scuffle in the coach. Chauvelin was the only man who might have suspected what had occurred, but he had gone on ahead, and bald-headed Fortune had passed by me, and I had managed to grab its one hair. After that it was all quite easy. The sergeant and the soldiers had seen very little of Heron and nothing of me; it did not take a great effort to deceive them, and the darkness of the night was my most faithful friend. His raucous voice was not difficult to imitate, and darkness always muffles and changes every tone. Anyway, it was not likely that those loutish soldiers would even remotely suspect the trick that was being played on them. The citizen agent's orders were promptly and implicitly obeyed. The men never even thought to wonder that after insisting on an escort of twenty he should drive off with two prisoners and only two men to guard them. If they did wonder, it was not theirs to question. Those two troopers are spending an uncomfortable night somewhere in the forest of Boulogne, each tied to a tree, and some two leagues apart one from the other. And now," he added gaily, "en voiture, my fair lady; and you, too, Armand. 'Tis seven leagues to Le Portel, and we must be there before dawn." "Sir Andrew's intention was to make for Calais first, there to open communication with the Day-Dream and then for Le Portel," said Marguerite; "after that he meant to strike back for the Chateau d'Ourde in search of me." "Then we'll still find him at Le Portel--I shall know how to lay hands on him; but you two must get aboard the Day-Dream at once, for Ffoulkes and I can always look after ourselves." It was one hour after midnight when--refreshed with food and rest--Marguerite, Armand and Sir Percy left the half-way house. Marguerite was standing in the doorway ready to go. Percy and Armand had gone ahead to bring the coach along. "Percy," whispered Armand, "Marguerite does not know?" "Of course she does not, you young fool," retorted Percy lightly. "If you try and tell her I think I would smash your head." "But you--" said the young man with sudden vehemence; "can you bear the sight of me? My God! when I think--" "Don't think, my good Armand--not of that anyway. Only think of the woman for whose sake you committed a crime--if she is pure and good, woo her and win her--not just now, for it were foolish to go back to Paris after her, but anon, when she comes to England and all these past days are forgotten--then love her as much as you can, Armand. Learn your lesson of love better than I have learnt mine; do not cause Jeanne Lange those tears of anguish which my mad spirit brings to your sister's eyes. You were right, Armand, when you said that I do not know how to love!" But on board the Day-Dream, when all danger was past, Marguerite felt that he did. 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through the stillness of the night. Immediately after that the horses had been put at a more rapid pace, but it had seemed to Marguerite as if that one cry of pain had been repeated by several others which sounded more feeble and soon appeared to be dying away in the distance behind. The soldier who sat opposite to them must have heard the cry too, for he jumped up, as if wakened from sleep, and put his head out of the window. "Did you hear that cry, citizen?" he asked. But only a curse answered him, and a peremptory command not to lose sight of the prisoners by poking his head out of the window. "Did you hear the cry?" asked the soldier of Marguerite as he made haste to obey. "Yes! What could it be?" she murmured. "It seems dangerous to drive so fast in this darkness," muttered the soldier. After which remark he, with the stolidity peculiar to his kind, figuratively shrugged his shoulders, detaching himself, as it were, of the whole affair. "We should be out of the forest by now," he remarked in an undertone a little while later; "the way seemed shorter before." Just then the coach gave an unexpected lurch to one side, and after much groaning and creaking of axles and springs it came to a standstill, and the citizen agent was heard cursing loudly and then scrambling down from the box. The next moment the carriage-door was pulled open from without, and the harsh voice called out peremptorily: "Citizen soldier, here--quick!--quick!--curse you!--we'll have one of the horses down if you don't hurry!" The soldier struggled to his feet; it was never good to be slow in obeying the citizen agent's commands. He was half-asleep and no doubt numb with cold and long sitting still; to accelerate his movements he was suddenly gripped by the arm and dragged incontinently out of the coach. Then the door was slammed to again, either by a rough hand or a sudden gust of wind, Marguerite could not tell; she heard a cry of rage and one of terror, and Heron's raucous curses. She cowered in the corner of the carriage with Armand's head against her shoulder, and tried to close her ears to all those hideous sounds. Then suddenly all the sounds were hushed and all around everything became perfectly calm and still--so still that at first the silence oppressed her with a vague, nameless dread. It was as if Nature herself had paused, that she might listen; and the silence became more and more absolute, until Marguerite could hear Armand's soft, regular breathing close to her ear. The window nearest to her was open, and as she leaned forward with that paralysing sense of oppression a breath of pure air struck full upon her nostrils and brought with it a briny taste as if from the sea. It was not quite so dark; and there was a sense as of open country stretching out to the limits of the horizon. Overhead a vague greyish light suffused the sky, and the wind swept the clouds in great rolling banks right across that light. Marguerite gazed upward with a more calm feeling that was akin to gratitude. That pale light, though so wan and feeble, was thrice welcome after that inky blackness wherein shadows were less dark than the lights. She watched eagerly the bank of clouds driven by the dying gale. The light grew brighter and faintly golden, now the banks of clouds--storm-tossed and fleecy--raced past one another, parted and reunited like veils of unseen giant dancers waved by hands that controlled infinite space--advanced and rushed and slackened speed again--united and finally torn asunder to reveal the waning moon, honey-coloured and mysterious, rising as if from an invisible ocean far away. The wan pale light spread over the wide stretch of country, throwing over it as it spread dull tones of indigo and of blue. Here and there sparse, stunted trees with fringed gaunt arms bending to prevailing winds proclaimed the neighbourhood of the sea. Marguerite gazed on the picture which the waning moon had so suddenly revealed; but she gazed with eyes that knew not what they saw. The moon had risen on her right--there lay the east--and the coach must have been travelling due north, whereas Crecy... In the absolute silence that reigned she could perceive from far, very far away, the sound of a church clock striking the midnight hour; and now it seemed to her supersensitive senses that a firm footstep was treading the soft earth, a footstep that drew nearer--and then nearer still. Nature did pause to listen. The wind was hushed, the night-birds in the forest had gone to rest. Marguerite's heart beat so fast that its throbbings choked her, and a dizziness clouded her consciousness. But through this state of torpor she heard the opening of the carriage door, she felt the onrush of that pure, briny air, and she felt a long, burning kiss upon her hands. She thought then that she was really dead, and that God in His infinite love had opened to her the outer gates of Paradise. "My love!" she murmured. She was leaning back in the carriage and her eyes were closed, but she felt that firm fingers removed the irons from her wrists, and that a pair of warm lips were pressed there in their stead. "There, little woman, that's better so--is it not? Now let me get hold of poor old Armand!" It was Heaven, of course, else how could earth hold such heavenly joy? "Percy!" exclaimed Armand in an awed voice. "Hush, dear!" murmured Marguerite feebly; "we are in Heaven you and I--" Whereupon a ringing laugh woke the echoes of the silent night. "In Heaven, dear heart!" And the voice had a delicious earthly ring in its whole-hearted merriment. "Please God, you'll both be at Portel with me before dawn." Then she was indeed forced to believe. She put out her hands and groped for him, for it was dark inside the carriage; she groped, and felt his massive shoulders leaning across the body of the coach, while his fingers busied themselves with the irons on Armand's wrist. "Don't touch that brute's filthy coat with your dainty fingers, dear heart," he said gaily. "Great Lord! I have worn that wretch's clothes for over two hours; I feel as if the dirt had penetrated to my bones." Then with that gesture so habitual to him he took her head between his two hands, and drawing her to him until the wan light from without lit up the face that he worshipped, he gazed his fill into her eyes. She could only see the outline of his head silhouetted against the wind-tossed sky; she could not see his eyes, nor his lips, but she felt his nearness, and the happiness of that almost caused her to swoon. "Come out into the open, my lady fair," he murmured, and though she could not see, she could feel that he smiled; "let God's pure air blow through your hair and round your dear head. Then, if you can walk so far, there's a small half-way house close by here. I have knocked up the none too amiable host. You and Armand could have half an hour's rest there before we go further on our way." "But you, Percy?--are you safe?" "Yes, m'dear, we are all of us safe until morning-time enough to reach Le Portel, and to be aboard the Day-Dream before mine amiable friend M. Chambertin has discovered his worthy colleague lying gagged and bound inside the chapel of the Holy Sepulchre. By Gad! how old Heron will curse--the moment he can open his mouth!" He half helped, half lifted her out of the carriage. The strong pure air suddenly rushing right through to her lungs made her feel faint, and she almost fell. But it was good to feel herself falling, when one pair of arms amongst the millions on the earth were there to receive her. "Can you walk, dear heart?" he asked. "Lean well on me--it is not far, and the rest will do you good." "But you, Percy--" He laughed, and the most complete joy of living seemed to resound through that laugh. Her arm was in his, and for one moment he stood still while his eyes swept the far reaches of the country, the mellow distance still wrapped in its mantle of indigo, still untouched by the mysterious light of the waning moon. He pressed her arm against his heart, but his right hand was stretched out towards the black wall of the forest behind him, towards the dark crests of the pines in which the dying wind sent its last mournful sighs. "Dear heart," he said, and his voice quivered with the intensity of his excitement, "beyond the stretch of that wood, from far away over there, there are cries and moans of anguish that come to my ear even now. But for you, dear, I would cross that wood to-night and re-enter Paris to-morrow. But for you, dear--but for you," he reiterated earnestly as he pressed her closer to him, for a bitter cry had risen to her lips. She went on in silence. Her happiness was great--as great as was her pain. She had found him again, the man whom she worshipped, the husband whom she thought never to see again on earth. She had found him, and not even now--not after those terrible weeks of misery and suffering unspeakable--could she feel that love had triumphed over the wild, adventurous spirit, the reckless enthusiasm, the ardour of self-sacrifice. CHAPTER XLIX. THE LAND OF ELDORADO It seems that in the pocket of Heron's coat there was a letter-case with some few hundred francs. It was amusing to think that the brute's money helped to bribe the ill-tempered keeper of the half-way house to receive guests at midnight, and to ply them well with food, drink, and the shelter of a stuffy coffee-room. Marguerite sat silently beside her husband, her hand in his. Armand, opposite to them, had both elbows on the table. He looked pale and wan, with a bandage across his forehead, and his glowing eyes were resting on his chief. "Yes! you demmed young idiot," said Blakeney merrily, "you nearly upset my plan in the end, with your yelling and screaming outside the chapel gates." "I wanted to get to you, Percy. I thought those brutes had got you there inside that building." "Not they!" he exclaimed. "It was my friend Heron whom they had trussed and gagged, and whom my amiable friend M. Chambertin will find in there to-morrow morning. By Gad! I would go back if only for the pleasure of hearing Heron curse when first the gag is taken from his mouth." "But how was it all done, Percy? And there was de Batz--" "De Batz was part of the scheme I had planned for mine own escape before I knew that those brutes meant to take Marguerite and you as hostages for my good behaviour. What I hoped then was that under cover of a tussle or a fight I could somehow or other contrive to slip through their fingers. It was a chance, and you know my belief in bald-headed Fortune, with the one solitary hair. Well, I meant to grab that hair; and at the worst I could but die in the open and not caged in that awful hole like some noxious vermin. I knew that de Batz would rise to the bait. I told him in my letter that the Dauphin would be at the Chateau d'Ourde this night, but that I feared the revolutionary Government had got wind of this fact, and were sending an armed escort to bring the lad away. This letter Ffoulkes took to him; I knew that he would make a vigorous effort to get the Dauphin into his hands, and that during the scuffle that one hair on Fortune's head would for one second only, mayhap, come within my reach. I had so planned the expedition that we were bound to arrive at the forest of Boulogne by nightfall, and night is always a useful ally. But at the guard-house of the Rue Ste. Anne I realised for the first time that those brutes had pressed me into a tighter corner than I had pre-conceived." He paused, and once again that look of recklessness swept over his face, and his eyes--still hollow and circled--shone with the excitement of past memories. "I was such a weak, miserable wretch, then," he said, in answer to Marguerite's appeal. "I had to try and build up some strength, when--Heaven forgive me for the sacrilege--I had unwittingly risked your precious life, dear heart, in that blind endeavour to save mine own. By Gad! it was no easy task in that jolting vehicle with that noisome wretch beside me for sole company; yet I ate and I drank and I slept for three days and two nights, until the hour when in the darkness I struck Heron from behind, half-strangled him first, then gagged him, and finally slipped into his filthy coat and put that loathsome bandage across my head, and his battered hat above it all. The yell he gave when first I attacked him made every horse rear--you must remember it--the noise effectually drowned our last scuffle in the coach. Chauvelin was the only man who might have suspected what had occurred, but he had gone on ahead, and bald-headed Fortune had passed by me, and I had managed to grab its one hair. After that it was all quite easy. The sergeant and the soldiers had seen very little of Heron and nothing of me; it did not take a great effort to deceive them, and the darkness of the night was my most faithful friend. His raucous voice was not difficult to imitate, and darkness always muffles and changes every tone. Anyway, it was not likely that those loutish soldiers would even remotely suspect the trick that was being played on them. The citizen agent's orders were promptly and implicitly obeyed. The men never even thought to wonder that after insisting on an escort of twenty he should drive off with two prisoners and only two men to guard them. If they did wonder, it was not theirs to question. Those two troopers are spending an uncomfortable night somewhere in the forest of Boulogne, each tied to a tree, and some two leagues apart one from the other. And now," he added gaily, "en voiture, my fair lady; and you, too, Armand. 'Tis seven leagues to Le Portel, and we must be there before dawn." "Sir Andrew's intention was to make for Calais first, there to open communication with the Day-Dream and then for Le Portel," said Marguerite; "after that he meant to strike back for the Chateau d'Ourde in search of me." "Then we'll still find him at Le Portel--I shall know how to lay hands on him; but you two must get aboard the Day-Dream at once, for Ffoulkes and I can always look after ourselves." It was one hour after midnight when--refreshed with food and rest--Marguerite, Armand and Sir Percy left the half-way house. Marguerite was standing in the doorway ready to go. Percy and Armand had gone ahead to bring the coach along. "Percy," whispered Armand, "Marguerite does not know?" "Of course she does not, you young fool," retorted Percy lightly. "If you try and tell her I think I would smash your head." "But you--" said the young man with sudden vehemence; "can you bear the sight of me? My God! when I think--" "Don't think, my good Armand--not of that anyway. Only think of the woman for whose sake you committed a crime--if she is pure and good, woo her and win her--not just now, for it were foolish to go back to Paris after her, but anon, when she comes to England and all these past days are forgotten--then love her as much as you can, Armand. Learn your lesson of love better than I have learnt mine; do not cause Jeanne Lange those tears of anguish which my mad spirit brings to your sister's eyes. You were right, Armand, when you said that I do not know how to love!" But on board the Day-Dream, when all danger was past, Marguerite felt that he did. 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through the stillness of the night. Immediately after that the horses had been put at a more rapid pace, but it had seemed to Marguerite as if that one cry of pain had been repeated by several others which sounded more feeble and soon appeared to be dying away in the distance behind. The soldier who sat opposite to them must have heard the cry too, for he jumped up, as if wakened from sleep, and put his head out of the window. "Did you hear that cry, citizen?" he asked. But only a curse answered him, and a peremptory command not to lose sight of the prisoners by poking his head out of the window. "Did you hear the cry?" asked the soldier of Marguerite as he made haste to obey. "Yes! What could it be?" she murmured. "It seems dangerous to drive so fast in this darkness," muttered the soldier. After which remark he, with the stolidity peculiar to his kind, figuratively shrugged his shoulders, detaching himself, as it were, of the whole affair. "We should be out of the forest by now," he remarked in an undertone a little while later; "the way seemed shorter before." Just then the coach gave an unexpected lurch to one side, and after much groaning and creaking of axles and springs it came to a standstill, and the citizen agent was heard cursing loudly and then scrambling down from the box. The next moment the carriage-door was pulled open from without, and the harsh voice called out peremptorily: "Citizen soldier, here--quick!--quick!--curse you!--we'll have one of the horses down if you don't hurry!" The soldier struggled to his feet; it was never good to be slow in obeying the citizen agent's commands. He was half-asleep and no doubt numb with cold and long sitting still; to accelerate his movements he was suddenly gripped by the arm and dragged incontinently out of the coach. Then the door was slammed to again, either by a rough hand or a sudden gust of wind, Marguerite could not tell; she heard a cry of rage and one of terror, and Heron's raucous curses. She cowered in the corner of the carriage with Armand's head against her shoulder, and tried to close her ears to all those hideous sounds. Then suddenly all the sounds were hushed and all around everything became perfectly calm and still--so still that at first the silence oppressed her with a vague, nameless dread. It was as if Nature herself had paused, that she might listen; and the silence became more and more absolute, until Marguerite could hear Armand's soft, regular breathing close to her ear. The window nearest to her was open, and as she leaned forward with that paralysing sense of oppression a breath of pure air struck full upon her nostrils and brought with it a briny taste as if from the sea. It was not quite so dark; and there was a sense as of open country stretching out to the limits of the horizon. Overhead a vague greyish light suffused the sky, and the wind swept the clouds in great rolling banks right across that light. Marguerite gazed upward with a more calm feeling that was akin to gratitude. That pale light, though so wan and feeble, was thrice welcome after that inky blackness wherein shadows were less dark than the lights. She watched eagerly the bank of clouds driven by the dying gale. The light grew brighter and faintly golden, now the banks of clouds--storm-tossed and fleecy--raced past one another, parted and reunited like veils of unseen giant dancers waved by hands that controlled infinite space--advanced and rushed and slackened speed again--united and finally torn asunder to reveal the waning moon, honey-coloured and mysterious, rising as if from an invisible ocean far away. The wan pale light spread over the wide stretch of country, throwing over it as it spread dull tones of indigo and of blue. Here and there sparse, stunted trees with fringed gaunt arms bending to prevailing winds proclaimed the neighbourhood of the sea. Marguerite gazed on the picture which the waning moon had so suddenly revealed; but she gazed with eyes that knew not what they saw. The moon had risen on her right--there lay the east--and the coach must have been travelling due north, whereas Crecy... In the absolute silence that reigned she could perceive from far, very far away, the sound of a church clock striking the midnight hour; and now it seemed to her supersensitive senses that a firm footstep was treading the soft earth, a footstep that drew nearer--and then nearer still. Nature did pause to listen. The wind was hushed, the night-birds in the forest had gone to rest. Marguerite's heart beat so fast that its throbbings choked her, and a dizziness clouded her consciousness. But through this state of torpor she heard the opening of the carriage door, she felt the onrush of that pure, briny air, and she felt a long, burning kiss upon her hands. She thought then that she was really dead, and that God in His infinite love had opened to her the outer gates of Paradise. "My love!" she murmured. She was leaning back in the carriage and her eyes were closed, but she felt that firm fingers removed the irons from her wrists, and that a pair of warm lips were pressed there in their stead. "There, little woman, that's better so--is it not? Now let me get hold of poor old Armand!" It was Heaven, of course, else how could earth hold such heavenly joy? "Percy!" exclaimed Armand in an awed voice. "Hush, dear!" murmured Marguerite feebly; "we are in Heaven you and I--" Whereupon a ringing laugh woke the echoes of the silent night. "In Heaven, dear heart!" And the voice had a delicious earthly ring in its whole-hearted merriment. "Please God, you'll both be at Portel with me before dawn." Then she was indeed forced to believe. She put out her hands and groped for him, for it was dark inside the carriage; she groped, and felt his massive shoulders leaning across the body of the coach, while his fingers busied themselves with the irons on Armand's wrist. "Don't touch that brute's filthy coat with your dainty fingers, dear heart," he said gaily. "Great Lord! I have worn that wretch's clothes for over two hours; I feel as if the dirt had penetrated to my bones." Then with that gesture so habitual to him he took her head between his two hands, and drawing her to him until the wan light from without lit up the face that he worshipped, he gazed his fill into her eyes. She could only see the outline of his head silhouetted against the wind-tossed sky; she could not see his eyes, nor his lips, but she felt his nearness, and the happiness of that almost caused her to swoon. "Come out into the open, my lady fair," he murmured, and though she could not see, she could feel that he smiled; "let God's pure air blow through your hair and round your dear head. Then, if you can walk so far, there's a small half-way house close by here. I have knocked up the none too amiable host. You and Armand could have half an hour's rest there before we go further on our way." "But you, Percy?--are you safe?" "Yes, m'dear, we are all of us safe until morning-time enough to reach Le Portel, and to be aboard the Day-Dream before mine amiable friend M. Chambertin has discovered his worthy colleague lying gagged and bound inside the chapel of the Holy Sepulchre. By Gad! how old Heron will curse--the moment he can open his mouth!" He half helped, half lifted her out of the carriage. The strong pure air suddenly rushing right through to her lungs made her feel faint, and she almost fell. But it was good to feel herself falling, when one pair of arms amongst the millions on the earth were there to receive her. "Can you walk, dear heart?" he asked. "Lean well on me--it is not far, and the rest will do you good." "But you, Percy--" He laughed, and the most complete joy of living seemed to resound through that laugh. Her arm was in his, and for one moment he stood still while his eyes swept the far reaches of the country, the mellow distance still wrapped in its mantle of indigo, still untouched by the mysterious light of the waning moon. He pressed her arm against his heart, but his right hand was stretched out towards the black wall of the forest behind him, towards the dark crests of the pines in which the dying wind sent its last mournful sighs. "Dear heart," he said, and his voice quivered with the intensity of his excitement, "beyond the stretch of that wood, from far away over there, there are cries and moans of anguish that come to my ear even now. But for you, dear, I would cross that wood to-night and re-enter Paris to-morrow. But for you, dear--but for you," he reiterated earnestly as he pressed her closer to him, for a bitter cry had risen to her lips. She went on in silence. Her happiness was great--as great as was her pain. She had found him again, the man whom she worshipped, the husband whom she thought never to see again on earth. She had found him, and not even now--not after those terrible weeks of misery and suffering unspeakable--could she feel that love had triumphed over the wild, adventurous spirit, the reckless enthusiasm, the ardour of self-sacrifice. CHAPTER XLIX. THE LAND OF ELDORADO It seems that in the pocket of Heron's coat there was a letter-case with some few hundred francs. It was amusing to think that the brute's money helped to bribe the ill-tempered keeper of the half-way house to receive guests at midnight, and to ply them well with food, drink, and the shelter of a stuffy coffee-room. Marguerite sat silently beside her husband, her hand in his. Armand, opposite to them, had both elbows on the table. He looked pale and wan, with a bandage across his forehead, and his glowing eyes were resting on his chief. "Yes! you demmed young idiot," said Blakeney merrily, "you nearly upset my plan in the end, with your yelling and screaming outside the chapel gates." "I wanted to get to you, Percy. I thought those brutes had got you there inside that building." "Not they!" he exclaimed. "It was my friend Heron whom they had trussed and gagged, and whom my amiable friend M. Chambertin will find in there to-morrow morning. By Gad! I would go back if only for the pleasure of hearing Heron curse when first the gag is taken from his mouth." "But how was it all done, Percy? And there was de Batz--" "De Batz was part of the scheme I had planned for mine own escape before I knew that those brutes meant to take Marguerite and you as hostages for my good behaviour. What I hoped then was that under cover of a tussle or a fight I could somehow or other contrive to slip through their fingers. It was a chance, and you know my belief in bald-headed Fortune, with the one solitary hair. Well, I meant to grab that hair; and at the worst I could but die in the open and not caged in that awful hole like some noxious vermin. I knew that de Batz would rise to the bait. I told him in my letter that the Dauphin would be at the Chateau d'Ourde this night, but that I feared the revolutionary Government had got wind of this fact, and were sending an armed escort to bring the lad away. This letter Ffoulkes took to him; I knew that he would make a vigorous effort to get the Dauphin into his hands, and that during the scuffle that one hair on Fortune's head would for one second only, mayhap, come within my reach. I had so planned the expedition that we were bound to arrive at the forest of Boulogne by nightfall, and night is always a useful ally. But at the guard-house of the Rue Ste. Anne I realised for the first time that those brutes had pressed me into a tighter corner than I had pre-conceived." He paused, and once again that look of recklessness swept over his face, and his eyes--still hollow and circled--shone with the excitement of past memories. "I was such a weak, miserable wretch, then," he said, in answer to Marguerite's appeal. "I had to try and build up some strength, when--Heaven forgive me for the sacrilege--I had unwittingly risked your precious life, dear heart, in that blind endeavour to save mine own. By Gad! it was no easy task in that jolting vehicle with that noisome wretch beside me for sole company; yet I ate and I drank and I slept for three days and two nights, until the hour when in the darkness I struck Heron from behind, half-strangled him first, then gagged him, and finally slipped into his filthy coat and put that loathsome bandage across my head, and his battered hat above it all. The yell he gave when first I attacked him made every horse rear--you must remember it--the noise effectually drowned our last scuffle in the coach. Chauvelin was the only man who might have suspected what had occurred, but he had gone on ahead, and bald-headed Fortune had passed by me, and I had managed to grab its one hair. After that it was all quite easy. The sergeant and the soldiers had seen very little of Heron and nothing of me; it did not take a great effort to deceive them, and the darkness of the night was my most faithful friend. His raucous voice was not difficult to imitate, and darkness always muffles and changes every tone. Anyway, it was not likely that those loutish soldiers would even remotely suspect the trick that was being played on them. The citizen agent's orders were promptly and implicitly obeyed. The men never even thought to wonder that after insisting on an escort of twenty he should drive off with two prisoners and only two men to guard them. If they did wonder, it was not theirs to question. Those two troopers are spending an uncomfortable night somewhere in the forest of Boulogne, each tied to a tree, and some two leagues apart one from the other. And now," he added gaily, "en voiture, my fair lady; and you, too, Armand. 'Tis seven leagues to Le Portel, and we must be there before dawn." "Sir Andrew's intention was to make for Calais first, there to open communication with the Day-Dream and then for Le Portel," said Marguerite; "after that he meant to strike back for the Chateau d'Ourde in search of me." "Then we'll still find him at Le Portel--I shall know how to lay hands on him; but you two must get aboard the Day-Dream at once, for Ffoulkes and I can always look after ourselves." It was one hour after midnight when--refreshed with food and rest--Marguerite, Armand and Sir Percy left the half-way house. Marguerite was standing in the doorway ready to go. Percy and Armand had gone ahead to bring the coach along. "Percy," whispered Armand, "Marguerite does not know?" "Of course she does not, you young fool," retorted Percy lightly. "If you try and tell her I think I would smash your head." "But you--" said the young man with sudden vehemence; "can you bear the sight of me? My God! when I think--" "Don't think, my good Armand--not of that anyway. Only think of the woman for whose sake you committed a crime--if she is pure and good, woo her and win her--not just now, for it were foolish to go back to Paris after her, but anon, when she comes to England and all these past days are forgotten--then love her as much as you can, Armand. Learn your lesson of love better than I have learnt mine; do not cause Jeanne Lange those tears of anguish which my mad spirit brings to your sister's eyes. You were right, Armand, when you said that I do not know how to love!" But on board the Day-Dream, when all danger was past, Marguerite felt that he did. 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thus within its cell. But he could still hear the priest, who not only spoke to him, but endeavoured by shaking him to arouse him from his lethargy. Thibault found this very fatiguing, and it was lucky for the priest that the wounded man, just now, had no superhuman power, for he inwardly sent the good man to the devil, many times over. Before long it seemed to him that some sort of hot burning pan was being inserted under the soles of his feet, his loins, his head; his blood began to circulate, then to boil, like water over a fire. His ideas became confused, his clenched jaws opened; his tongue which had been bound became loosened; some disconnected words escaped him. Ah, ah! he thought to himself, this no doubt is what the good doctor spoke about as delirium; and, for the while at least, this was his last lucid idea. His whole life--and his life had really only existed since his first acquaintance with the black wolf--passed before him. He saw himself following, and failing to hit the buck; saw himself tied to the oak-tree, and the blows of the strap falling on him; saw himself and the black wolf drawing up their compact; saw himself trying to pass the devil s ring over Agnelette s finger; saw himself trying to pull out the red hairs, which now covered a third of his head. Then he saw himself on his way to pay court to the pretty Madame Polet of the mill, meeting Landry, and getting rid of his rival; pursued by the farm servants, and followed by his wolves. He saw himself making the acquaintance of Madame Magloire, hunting for her, eating his share of the game, hiding behind the curtains, discovered by Ma tre Magloire, flouted by the Baron of Vez, turned out by all three. Again he saw the hollow tree, with his wolves couching around it and the owls perched on its branches, and heard the sounds of the approaching violins and hautboy and saw himself looking, as Agnelette and the happy wedding party went by. He saw himself the victim of angry jealousy, endeavouring to fight against it by the help of drink, and across his troubled brain came the recollection of Fran ois, of Champagne, and the Inn-keeper; he heard the galloping of Baron Raoul s horse, and he felt himself knocked down and rolling in the muddy road. Then he ceased to see himself as Thibault; in his stead arose the figure of the handsome young rider whose form he had taken for a while. Once more he was kissing Lisette, once more his lips were touching the Countess s hand; then he was wanting to escape, but he found himself at a cross-road where three ways only met, and each of these was guarded by one of his victims: the first, by the spectre of a drowned man, that was Marcotte; the second, by a young man dying of fever on a hospital bed, that was Landry; the third, by a wounded man, dragging himself along on one knee, and trying in vain to stand up on his mutilated leg, that was the Comte de Mont-Gobert. He fancied that as all these things passed before him, he told the history of them one by one, and that the priest, as he listened to this strange confession, looked more like a dying man, was paler and more trembling than the man whose confession he was listening to; that he wanted to give him absolution, but that he, Thibault, pushed him away, shaking his head, and that he cried out with a terrible laugh: I want no absolution! I am damned! damned! damned! And in the midst of all this hallucination, this delirious madness, the spirit of Thibault could hear the priest s clock striking the hours, and as they struck he counted them. Only this clock seemed to have grown to gigantic proportions and the face of it was the blue vault of heaven, and the numbers on it were flames; and the clock was called eternity, and the monstrous pendulum, as it swung backwards and forwards called out in turn at every beat: Never! For ever! And so he lay and heard the long hours of the day pass one by one; and then at last the clock struck nine. At half past nine, he, Thibault, would have been Raoul, and Raoul would have been Thibault, for just four and twenty hours. As the last stroke of the hour died away, Thibault felt the fever passing from him, it was succeeded by a sensation of coldness, which almost amounted to shivering. He opened his eyes, all trembling with cold, and saw the priest at the foot of the bed saying the prayers for the dying, and the hands of the actual clock pointing to a quarter past nine. His senses had become so acute, that, imperceptible as was their double movement, he could yet see both the larger and smaller one slowly creeping along; they were gradually nearing the critical hour; half past nine! Although the face of the clock was in darkness, it seemed illuminated by some inward light. As the minute hand approached the number 6, a spasm becoming every instant more and more violent shook the dying man; his feet were like ice, and the numbness slowly, but steadily, mounted from the feet to the knees, from the knees to the thighs, from the thighs to the lower part of the body. The sweat was running down his forehead, but he had no strength to wipe it away, nor even to ask to have it done. It was a sweat of agony which he knew every moment might be the sweat of death. All kinds of strange shapes, which had nothing of the human about them, floated before his eyes; the light faded away; wings as of bats seemed to lift his body and carry it into some twilight region, which was neither life nor death, but seemed a part of both. Then the twilight itself grew darker and darker; his eyes closed, and like a blind man stumbling in the dark, his heavy wings seemed to flap against strange and unknown things. After that he sank away into unfathomable depths, into bottomless abysses, but still he heard the sound of a bell. The bell rang once, and scarcely had it ceased to vibrate when the dying man uttered a cry. The priest rose and went to the side of the bed; with that cry the Baron Raoul had breathed his last: it was exactly one second after the half hour after nine. CHAPTER XIX THE DEAD AND THE LIVING At the same moment that the trembling soul of the young Baron passed away, Thibault, awaking as if from an agitated sleep full of terrible dreams, sat up in his bed. He was surrounded by fire, every corner of his hut was in flames; at first he thought it was a continuation of his nightmare, but then he heard cries of, Death to the wizard! death to the sorcerer! death to the were-wolf! and he understood that some terrible attack was being made upon him. The flames came nearer, they reached the bed, he felt their heat upon him; a few seconds more and he would be burned alive in the midst of the flaming pile. Thibault leaped from his bed, seized his boar-spear, and dashed out of the back door of his hut. No sooner did his enemies see him rush through the fire and emerge from the smoke than their cries of death to him! death! were redoubled. One or two shots were fired at him; Thibault heard the bullets whizz past; those who shot at him wore the livery of the Grand Master, and Thibault recalled the menace of the lord of Vez, uttered against him a few days before. He was then beyond the pale of the law; he could be smoked out of his hole like a fox; he could be shot down like a buck. Luckily for Thibault, not one of the bullets struck him, and as the circle of fire made by the burning hut was not a large one, he was soon safely beyond it, and once again in shelter of the vast and gloomy forest, where, had it not been for the cries of the menials who were burning down his house, the silence would have been as complete as the darkness. He sat down at the foot of a tree and buried his head in his hands. The events of the last forty-eight hours had succeeded each other with such rapidity, that there was no lack of matter to serve as subjects of reflection to the shoe-maker. The twenty-four hours, during which he had lived another existence than his own, seemed to him like a dream, so much so, that he would not have dared to take his oath that all this recent affair between the Baron, and the Countess Jane, and the Comte de Mont-Gobert had really taken place. The church clock of Oigny struck ten, and he lifted his head. Ten o clock! and only half-an-hour before he had been still in the body of the Baron Raoul, as he lay dying in the house of the Cur of Puiseux. Ah! he exclaimed I must find out for certain what has happened! It is not quite three miles to Puiseux and I shall be there in half-an-hour; I should like to ascertain if the Baron is really dead. A melancholy howl made answer to his words; he looked round; his faithful body-guards were back again; he had his pack about him once more. Come, wolves! come, my only friends! he cried, let us be off! And he started with them across the forest in the direction of Puiseux. The huntsmen of the Lord of Vez, who were poking up the remaining embers of the ruined hut, saw a man pass, as in a vision, running at the head of a dozen or more wolves. They crossed themselves, and became more convinced than ever that Thibault was a wizard. And anybody else who had seen Thibault, flying along as swiftly as his swiftest wolf, and covering the ground between Oigny and Puiseux in less than a quarter of an hour, would certainly have thought so too. He stopped at the entrance to the village, and turning to his wolves, he said: Friend wolves, I have no further need of you to-night, and indeed, I wish to be alone. Amuse yourselves with the stables in the neighbourhood, I give you leave to do just what you like; and if you chance to come across one of those two-footed animals, called men, forget, friend wolves, that they claim to be made in the image of their Creator, and never fear to satisfy your appetite. Whereupon the wolves rushed off in different directions, uttering howls of joy, while Thibault went on into the village. The Cur s house adjoined the church, and Thibault made a circuit so as to avoid passing in front of the Cross. When he reached the presbytery, he looked in through one of the windows, and there he saw a bed with a lighted wax candle beside it; and over the bed itself was spread a sheet, and beneath the sheet could be seen the outlines of a figure lying rigid in death. There appeared to be no one in the house; the priest had no doubt gone to give notice of the death to the village authorities. Thibault went inside, and called the priest, but no one answered. He walked up to the bed, there could be no mistake about the body under the sheet being that of a dead man; he lifted the sheet, there could be no mistaking that the dead body was that of Raoul de Vauparfond. On his face lay the still, unearthly beauty which is born of eternity. His features, which in life had been somewhat too feminine for those of a man, had now assumed the sombre grandeur of death. At the first glance you might have thought he only slept; but on gazing longer you recognised in that immovable calm something more profound than sleep. The presence of one who carries a sickle for sceptre, and wears a shroud for mantle was unmistakeable, and you knew King Death was there. Thibault had left the door open, and he heard the sound of light footsteps approaching; at the back of the alcove hung a serge curtain, which masked a door by which he could retreat, if necessary, and he now went and placed himself behind it. A woman dressed in black, and covered with a black veil, paused in some hesitation at the door. The head of another woman passed in front of her s and looked carefully round the room. I think it is safe for Madame to go in; I see no one about, and besides, I will keep watch. The woman in black went in, walked slowly towards the bed, stopped a moment to wipe the perspiration from her forehead, then, without further hesitation, lifted the sheet which Thibault had thrown back over the face of the dead man; Thibault then saw that it was the Countess. Alas! she said, what they told me was true! Then she fell on her knees, praying and sobbing. Her prayer being ended, she rose again, kissed the pale forehead of the dead, and the blue marks of the wound through which the soul had fled. O my well-beloved, my Raoul; she murmured, who will tell me the name of your murderer? who will help me to avenge your death? As the Countess finished speaking, she gave a cry and started back; she seemed to hear a voice that answered, I will! and something had shaken the green serge curtain. The Countess however was no chicken-hearted woman; she took the candle that was burning at the head of the bed and went and looked behind the curtain; but no creature was to be seen, a closed door was all that met her eye. She put back the candle, took a pair of gold scissors from a little pocket case, cut off a curl of the dead man s hair, placed the curl in a black velvet sachet which hung over her heart, gave one last kiss to her dead lover, laid the sheet over his face, and left the house. Just as she was crossing the threshold, she met the priest, and drawing back, drew her veil more closely over her face. Who are you? asked the priest. I am Grief, she answered, and the priest made way for her to pass. The Countess and her attendant had come on foot, and were returning in the same manner, for the distance between Puiseux and Mont-Gobert was not much more than half-a-mile. When about half way along their road, a man, who had been hiding behind a willow tree, stepped forward and barred their further passage. Lisette screamed, but the Countess, without the least sign of fear, went up to the man, and asked: Who are you? The man who answered I will just now, when you were asking who would denounce the murderer to you. And you can help me to revenge myself on him? Whenever you like. At once? We cannot talk here very well. Where can we find a better place? In your own room for one. We must not enter the castle together. No; but I can go through the breach in the park wall: Mademoiselle Lisette can wait for me in the hut where Monsieur Raoul used to leave his horse, she can take me up the winding-stair and into your room. If you should be in your dressing-room, I will wait for you, as Monsieur Raoul waited the night before last. The two women shuddered from head to foot. Who are you to know all these details? asked the Countess. I will tell you when the time comes for me to tell you. The Countess hesitated a moment, then, recovering her resolution, she said: Very well then; come through the breach; Lisette will wait for you in the stable. Oh! Madame, cried the maid, I shall never dare to go and bring that man to you! I will go myself then, said the Countess. Well said! put in Thibault, there spoke a woman worth calling one! And so saying he slid down into a kind of ravine beside the road, and disappeared. Lisette very nearly fainted. Lean on me, Mademoiselle, said the Countess, and let us walk on; I am anxious to hear what this man has to say to me. The two women entered the castle by way of the farm; no one had seen them go out, and no one saw them return. On reaching her room, the Countess waited for Lisette to bring up the stranger. Ten minutes had elapsed when the maid hurried in with a pale face. Ah! Madame, she said, there was no need for me to go to fetch him. What do you mean? asked the Countess. Because he knew his way up as well as I did! And oh! Madame! if you knew what he said to me! That man is the devil, Madame, I feel sure! Show him in, said the Countess. I am here! said Thibault. You can leave us now, my girl, said the Countess to Lisette. The latter quitted the room and the Countess remained alone with Thibault. Thibault s appearance was not one to inspire confidence. He gave the impression of a man who had once and for all made up his mind, but it was also easy to see that it was for no good purpose; a Satanic smile played about his mouth, and there was a demoniacal light in his eyes. He had made no attempt to hide his red hairs, but had left them defiantly uncovered, and they hung over his forehead like a plume of flame. But still the Countess looked him full in the face without changing colour. My maid says that you know the way to my room; have you ever been here before? Yes, Madame, once. And when was that? The day before yesterday. At what time? From half-past ten till half-past twelve at night. The Countess looked steadily at him and said: That is not true. Would you like me to tell you what took place? During the time you mention? During the time I mention. Say on, replied the Countess, laconically. Thibault was equally laconic. Monsieur Raoul came in by that door, he said, pointing to the one leading into the corridor, and Lisette left him here alone. You entered the room by that one, he continued, indicating the dressing-room door, and you found him on his knees. Your hair was unbound, only fastened back by three diamond pins, you wore a pink silk dressing-gown, trimmed with lace, pink silk stockings, cloth-of-silver slippers and a chain of pearls round your neck. You describe my dress exactly, said the Countess, continue. You tried to pick a quarrel with Monsieur Raoul, first because he loitered in the corridors to kiss your waiting-maid; secondly, because someone had met him late at night on the road between Erneville and Villers-Cotterets; thirdly, because, at the ball given at the Castle, at which you yourself were not present, he danced four times with Madame de Bonneuil. Continue. In answer to your accusations, your lover made excuses for himself, some good, some bad; you, however, were satisfied with them for you were just forgiving him when Lisette rushed in full of alarm calling to Monsieur Raoul to escape, as your husband had just returned. Lisette was right, you can be nothing less than the devil, said the Countess with a sinister laugh, and I think we shall be able to do business together.... Finish your account. Then you and your maid together pushed Monsieur Raoul, who resisted, into the dressing-room; Lisette forced him along the corridors and through two or three rooms; they then went down a winding staircase, in the wing of the Castle opposite to the one by which they had gone up. On arriving at the foot of the staircase, the fugitives found the door locked; then they ran into a kind of office where Lisette opened the window, which was about seven or eight feet above the ground. Monsieur Raoul leaped down out of this window, ran to the stable, found his horse still there, but hamstrung; then he swore that if he met the Count at any time he would hamstring him as the Count had hamstrung his horse, for he thought it a cowardly act to injure a poor beast so unnecessarily. Then he went on foot to the breach, climbed it, and found the Count awaiting him outside the park, with his sword drawn. The Baron had his hunting-knife with him; he drew it, and the duel began. Was the Count alone? Wait ... the Count appeared to be alone; after the fourth or fifth pass the Count was wounded in the shoulder, and sank on one knee, crying: help, Lestocq! Then the Baron remembered his oath, and hamstrung the Count as he had hamstrung the horse; but as the Baron rose, Lestocq drove his knife into his back; it passed under the shoulder blade and out through the chest. I need not tell you where ... you kissed the wound yourself. And after that? The Count and his huntsman returned to the Castle, leaving the Baron lying helpless; when the latter came to, he made signs to some passing peasants, who put him on a litter, and bore him away, with the intention of taking him to Villers-Cotterets; but he was in such pain, that they could not carry him farther than Puiseux; there they laid him on the bed where you found him, and on which he breathed his last a second after the half hour after nine in the evening. The Countess rose, and without speaking, went to her jewel-case and took out the pearls she had worn two nights before. She handed them to Thibault. What are they for? he asked. Take them, said the Countess, they are worth fifty thousand livres. Are you still anxious for revenge? Yes, replied the Countess. Revenge will cost more than that. How much will it cost? Wait for me to-morrow night, said Thibault, and I will tell you. Where shall I await you? asked the Countess. Here, said Thibault, with the leer of a wild animal. I will await you here, said the Countess. Till to-morrow then. Till to-morrow. Thibault went out. The Countess went and replaced the pearls in her dressing case; lifted up a false bottom, and drew from underneath it a small bottle containing an opal-coloured liquid, and a little dagger with a jewelled handle and case, and a blade inlaid with gold. She hid both beneath her pillow, knelt at her prie-dieu, and, her prayer finished, threw herself dressed on to her bed.... CHAPTER XX TRUE TO TRYST On quitting the Countess s room, Thibault had left the castle by the way which he had described to her, and soon found himself safe beyond its walls and outside the park. And now, for the first time in his life, Thibault had really nowhere to go. His hut was burnt, he was without a friend, and like Cain, he was a wanderer on the face of the earth. He turned to the unfailing shelter of the forest, and there made his way to the lower end of Chavigny; as the day was breaking he came across a solitary house, and asked if he could buy some bread. The woman belonging to it, her husband being away, gave him some, but refused to receive payment for it; his appearance frightened her. Having now food sufficient for the day, Thibault returned to the forest, with the intention of spending his time till evening in a part which he knew between Fleury and Longpont, where the trees were especially thick and tall. As he was looking for a resting place behind a rock, his eye was attracted by a shining object lying at the bottom of a slope, and his curiosity led him to climb down and see what it was. The shining object was the silver badge belonging to a huntsman s shoulder-belt; the shoulder-belt was slung round the neck of a dead body, or rather of a skeleton, for the flesh had been entirely eaten off the bones, which were as clean as if prepared for an anatomist s study or a painter s studio. The skeleton looked as if it had only lain there since the preceding night. Ah! ah! said Thibault, this is probably the work of my friends, the wolves; they evidently profited by the permission which I gave them. Curious to know if possible who the victim was, he examined it more closely; his curiosity was soon satisfied, for the badge, which the wolves had no doubt rejected as less easily digestible than the rest, was lying on the chest of the skeleton, like a ticket on a bale of goods. J. B. LESTOCQ, Head Keeper to the Comte de Mont-Gobert. Well done! laughed Thibault, here is one at least who did not live long to enjoy the result of his murderous act. Then, contracting his brow, he muttered to himself, in a low voice, and this time without laughing: Is there perhaps, after all, what people call a Providence? Lestocq s death was not difficult to account for. He had probably been executing some order for his master that night, and on the road between Mont-Gobert and Longpont, had been attacked by wolves. He had defended himself with the same knife with which he had wounded the Baron, for Thibault found the knife a few paces off, at a spot where the ground showed traces of a severe struggle; at last, being disarmed, the ferocious beasts had dragged him into the hollow, and there devoured him. Thibault was becoming so indifferent to everything that he felt neither pleasure nor regret, neither satisfaction nor remorse, at Lestocq s death; all he thought was, that it simplified matters for the Countess, as she would now only have her husband upon whom she need revenge herself. Then he went and found a place where the rocks afforded him the best shelter from the wind, and prepared to spend his day there in peace. Towards mid-day, he heard the horn of the Lord of Vez, and the cry of his hounds; the mighty huntsman was after game, but the chase did not pass near enough to Thibault to disturb him. At last the night came. At nine o clock Thibault rose and set out for the Castle of Mont-Gobert. He found the breach, followed the path he knew, and came to the little hut where Lisette had been awaiting him on the night when he had come in the guise of Raoul. The poor girl was there this evening, but alarmed and trembling. Thibault wished to carry out the old traditions and tried to kiss her, but she sprang back with visible signs of fear. Do not touch me, she said, or I shall call out. Oh, indeed! my pretty one, said Thibault, you were not so sour-tempered the other day with the Baron Raoul. May be not, said the girl, but a great many things have happened since the other day. And many more to happen still, said Thibault in a lively tone. I think, said the waiting-maid in a mournful voice, that the climax is already reached. Then, as she went on in front. If you wish to come, she added, follow me. Thibault followed her; Lisette, without the slightest effort at concealment, walked straight across the open space that lay between the trees and the castle. You are courageous to-day, said Thibault, and supposing some one were to see us.... There is no fear now, she answered, the eyes that could have seen us are all closed. Although he did not understand what the young girl meant by these words, the tone in which they were spoken made Thibault shiver. He continued to follow her in silence as they went up the winding-stairs to the first floor. As Lisette laid her hand on the key of the door, Thibault suddenly stopped her. Something in the silence and solitude of the castle filled him with fear; it seemed as if a curse might have fallen on the place. Where are we going? said Thibault, scarcely knowing himself what he said. You know well enough, surely. Into the Countess s room? Into the Countess s room. She is waiting for me? She is waiting for you. And Lisette opened the door. Go in, she said. Thibault went in, and Lisette shut the door behind him and waited outside. It was the same exquisite room, lighted in the same manner, filled with the same sweet scent. Thibault looked round for the Countess, he expected to see her appear at the dressing-room door, but the door remained closed. Not a sound was to be heard in the room, except the ticking of the S vres clock, and the beating of Thibault s heart. He began to look about him with a feeling of shuddering fear for which he could not account; then his eyes fell on the bed; the Countess was lying asleep upon it. In her hair were the same diamond pins, round her neck the same pearls; she was dressed in the same pink silk dressing-gown, and had on the same little slippers of cloth of silver which she had worn to receive the Baron Raoul.

receptacle

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thus within its cell. But he could still hear the priest, who not only spoke to him, but endeavoured by shaking him to arouse him from his lethargy. Thibault found this very fatiguing, and it was lucky for the priest that the wounded man, just now, had no superhuman power, for he inwardly sent the good man to the devil, many times over. Before long it seemed to him that some sort of hot burning pan was being inserted under the soles of his feet, his loins, his head; his blood began to circulate, then to boil, like water over a fire. His ideas became confused, his clenched jaws opened; his tongue which had been bound became loosened; some disconnected words escaped him. Ah, ah! he thought to himself, this no doubt is what the good doctor spoke about as delirium; and, for the while at least, this was his last lucid idea. His whole life--and his life had really only existed since his first acquaintance with the black wolf--passed before him. He saw himself following, and failing to hit the buck; saw himself tied to the oak-tree, and the blows of the strap falling on him; saw himself and the black wolf drawing up their compact; saw himself trying to pass the devil s ring over Agnelette s finger; saw himself trying to pull out the red hairs, which now covered a third of his head. Then he saw himself on his way to pay court to the pretty Madame Polet of the mill, meeting Landry, and getting rid of his rival; pursued by the farm servants, and followed by his wolves. He saw himself making the acquaintance of Madame Magloire, hunting for her, eating his share of the game, hiding behind the curtains, discovered by Ma tre Magloire, flouted by the Baron of Vez, turned out by all three. Again he saw the hollow tree, with his wolves couching around it and the owls perched on its branches, and heard the sounds of the approaching violins and hautboy and saw himself looking, as Agnelette and the happy wedding party went by. He saw himself the victim of angry jealousy, endeavouring to fight against it by the help of drink, and across his troubled brain came the recollection of Fran ois, of Champagne, and the Inn-keeper; he heard the galloping of Baron Raoul s horse, and he felt himself knocked down and rolling in the muddy road. Then he ceased to see himself as Thibault; in his stead arose the figure of the handsome young rider whose form he had taken for a while. Once more he was kissing Lisette, once more his lips were touching the Countess s hand; then he was wanting to escape, but he found himself at a cross-road where three ways only met, and each of these was guarded by one of his victims: the first, by the spectre of a drowned man, that was Marcotte; the second, by a young man dying of fever on a hospital bed, that was Landry; the third, by a wounded man, dragging himself along on one knee, and trying in vain to stand up on his mutilated leg, that was the Comte de Mont-Gobert. He fancied that as all these things passed before him, he told the history of them one by one, and that the priest, as he listened to this strange confession, looked more like a dying man, was paler and more trembling than the man whose confession he was listening to; that he wanted to give him absolution, but that he, Thibault, pushed him away, shaking his head, and that he cried out with a terrible laugh: I want no absolution! I am damned! damned! damned! And in the midst of all this hallucination, this delirious madness, the spirit of Thibault could hear the priest s clock striking the hours, and as they struck he counted them. Only this clock seemed to have grown to gigantic proportions and the face of it was the blue vault of heaven, and the numbers on it were flames; and the clock was called eternity, and the monstrous pendulum, as it swung backwards and forwards called out in turn at every beat: Never! For ever! And so he lay and heard the long hours of the day pass one by one; and then at last the clock struck nine. At half past nine, he, Thibault, would have been Raoul, and Raoul would have been Thibault, for just four and twenty hours. As the last stroke of the hour died away, Thibault felt the fever passing from him, it was succeeded by a sensation of coldness, which almost amounted to shivering. He opened his eyes, all trembling with cold, and saw the priest at the foot of the bed saying the prayers for the dying, and the hands of the actual clock pointing to a quarter past nine. His senses had become so acute, that, imperceptible as was their double movement, he could yet see both the larger and smaller one slowly creeping along; they were gradually nearing the critical hour; half past nine! Although the face of the clock was in darkness, it seemed illuminated by some inward light. As the minute hand approached the number 6, a spasm becoming every instant more and more violent shook the dying man; his feet were like ice, and the numbness slowly, but steadily, mounted from the feet to the knees, from the knees to the thighs, from the thighs to the lower part of the body. The sweat was running down his forehead, but he had no strength to wipe it away, nor even to ask to have it done. It was a sweat of agony which he knew every moment might be the sweat of death. All kinds of strange shapes, which had nothing of the human about them, floated before his eyes; the light faded away; wings as of bats seemed to lift his body and carry it into some twilight region, which was neither life nor death, but seemed a part of both. Then the twilight itself grew darker and darker; his eyes closed, and like a blind man stumbling in the dark, his heavy wings seemed to flap against strange and unknown things. After that he sank away into unfathomable depths, into bottomless abysses, but still he heard the sound of a bell. The bell rang once, and scarcely had it ceased to vibrate when the dying man uttered a cry. The priest rose and went to the side of the bed; with that cry the Baron Raoul had breathed his last: it was exactly one second after the half hour after nine. CHAPTER XIX THE DEAD AND THE LIVING At the same moment that the trembling soul of the young Baron passed away, Thibault, awaking as if from an agitated sleep full of terrible dreams, sat up in his bed. He was surrounded by fire, every corner of his hut was in flames; at first he thought it was a continuation of his nightmare, but then he heard cries of, Death to the wizard! death to the sorcerer! death to the were-wolf! and he understood that some terrible attack was being made upon him. The flames came nearer, they reached the bed, he felt their heat upon him; a few seconds more and he would be burned alive in the midst of the flaming pile. Thibault leaped from his bed, seized his boar-spear, and dashed out of the back door of his hut. No sooner did his enemies see him rush through the fire and emerge from the smoke than their cries of death to him! death! were redoubled. One or two shots were fired at him; Thibault heard the bullets whizz past; those who shot at him wore the livery of the Grand Master, and Thibault recalled the menace of the lord of Vez, uttered against him a few days before. He was then beyond the pale of the law; he could be smoked out of his hole like a fox; he could be shot down like a buck. Luckily for Thibault, not one of the bullets struck him, and as the circle of fire made by the burning hut was not a large one, he was soon safely beyond it, and once again in shelter of the vast and gloomy forest, where, had it not been for the cries of the menials who were burning down his house, the silence would have been as complete as the darkness. He sat down at the foot of a tree and buried his head in his hands. The events of the last forty-eight hours had succeeded each other with such rapidity, that there was no lack of matter to serve as subjects of reflection to the shoe-maker. The twenty-four hours, during which he had lived another existence than his own, seemed to him like a dream, so much so, that he would not have dared to take his oath that all this recent affair between the Baron, and the Countess Jane, and the Comte de Mont-Gobert had really taken place. The church clock of Oigny struck ten, and he lifted his head. Ten o clock! and only half-an-hour before he had been still in the body of the Baron Raoul, as he lay dying in the house of the Cur of Puiseux. Ah! he exclaimed I must find out for certain what has happened! It is not quite three miles to Puiseux and I shall be there in half-an-hour; I should like to ascertain if the Baron is really dead. A melancholy howl made answer to his words; he looked round; his faithful body-guards were back again; he had his pack about him once more. Come, wolves! come, my only friends! he cried, let us be off! And he started with them across the forest in the direction of Puiseux. The huntsmen of the Lord of Vez, who were poking up the remaining embers of the ruined hut, saw a man pass, as in a vision, running at the head of a dozen or more wolves. They crossed themselves, and became more convinced than ever that Thibault was a wizard. And anybody else who had seen Thibault, flying along as swiftly as his swiftest wolf, and covering the ground between Oigny and Puiseux in less than a quarter of an hour, would certainly have thought so too. He stopped at the entrance to the village, and turning to his wolves, he said: Friend wolves, I have no further need of you to-night, and indeed, I wish to be alone. Amuse yourselves with the stables in the neighbourhood, I give you leave to do just what you like; and if you chance to come across one of those two-footed animals, called men, forget, friend wolves, that they claim to be made in the image of their Creator, and never fear to satisfy your appetite. Whereupon the wolves rushed off in different directions, uttering howls of joy, while Thibault went on into the village. The Cur s house adjoined the church, and Thibault made a circuit so as to avoid passing in front of the Cross. When he reached the presbytery, he looked in through one of the windows, and there he saw a bed with a lighted wax candle beside it; and over the bed itself was spread a sheet, and beneath the sheet could be seen the outlines of a figure lying rigid in death. There appeared to be no one in the house; the priest had no doubt gone to give notice of the death to the village authorities. Thibault went inside, and called the priest, but no one answered. He walked up to the bed, there could be no mistake about the body under the sheet being that of a dead man; he lifted the sheet, there could be no mistaking that the dead body was that of Raoul de Vauparfond. On his face lay the still, unearthly beauty which is born of eternity. His features, which in life had been somewhat too feminine for those of a man, had now assumed the sombre grandeur of death. At the first glance you might have thought he only slept; but on gazing longer you recognised in that immovable calm something more profound than sleep. The presence of one who carries a sickle for sceptre, and wears a shroud for mantle was unmistakeable, and you knew King Death was there. Thibault had left the door open, and he heard the sound of light footsteps approaching; at the back of the alcove hung a serge curtain, which masked a door by which he could retreat, if necessary, and he now went and placed himself behind it. A woman dressed in black, and covered with a black veil, paused in some hesitation at the door. The head of another woman passed in front of her s and looked carefully round the room. I think it is safe for Madame to go in; I see no one about, and besides, I will keep watch. The woman in black went in, walked slowly towards the bed, stopped a moment to wipe the perspiration from her forehead, then, without further hesitation, lifted the sheet which Thibault had thrown back over the face of the dead man; Thibault then saw that it was the Countess. Alas! she said, what they told me was true! Then she fell on her knees, praying and sobbing. Her prayer being ended, she rose again, kissed the pale forehead of the dead, and the blue marks of the wound through which the soul had fled. O my well-beloved, my Raoul; she murmured, who will tell me the name of your murderer? who will help me to avenge your death? As the Countess finished speaking, she gave a cry and started back; she seemed to hear a voice that answered, I will! and something had shaken the green serge curtain. The Countess however was no chicken-hearted woman; she took the candle that was burning at the head of the bed and went and looked behind the curtain; but no creature was to be seen, a closed door was all that met her eye. She put back the candle, took a pair of gold scissors from a little pocket case, cut off a curl of the dead man s hair, placed the curl in a black velvet sachet which hung over her heart, gave one last kiss to her dead lover, laid the sheet over his face, and left the house. Just as she was crossing the threshold, she met the priest, and drawing back, drew her veil more closely over her face. Who are you? asked the priest. I am Grief, she answered, and the priest made way for her to pass. The Countess and her attendant had come on foot, and were returning in the same manner, for the distance between Puiseux and Mont-Gobert was not much more than half-a-mile. When about half way along their road, a man, who had been hiding behind a willow tree, stepped forward and barred their further passage. Lisette screamed, but the Countess, without the least sign of fear, went up to the man, and asked: Who are you? The man who answered I will just now, when you were asking who would denounce the murderer to you. And you can help me to revenge myself on him? Whenever you like. At once? We cannot talk here very well. Where can we find a better place? In your own room for one. We must not enter the castle together. No; but I can go through the breach in the park wall: Mademoiselle Lisette can wait for me in the hut where Monsieur Raoul used to leave his horse, she can take me up the winding-stair and into your room. If you should be in your dressing-room, I will wait for you, as Monsieur Raoul waited the night before last. The two women shuddered from head to foot. Who are you to know all these details? asked the Countess. I will tell you when the time comes for me to tell you. The Countess hesitated a moment, then, recovering her resolution, she said: Very well then; come through the breach; Lisette will wait for you in the stable. Oh! Madame, cried the maid, I shall never dare to go and bring that man to you! I will go myself then, said the Countess. Well said! put in Thibault, there spoke a woman worth calling one! And so saying he slid down into a kind of ravine beside the road, and disappeared. Lisette very nearly fainted. Lean on me, Mademoiselle, said the Countess, and let us walk on; I am anxious to hear what this man has to say to me. The two women entered the castle by way of the farm; no one had seen them go out, and no one saw them return. On reaching her room, the Countess waited for Lisette to bring up the stranger. Ten minutes had elapsed when the maid hurried in with a pale face. Ah! Madame, she said, there was no need for me to go to fetch him. What do you mean? asked the Countess. Because he knew his way up as well as I did! And oh! Madame! if you knew what he said to me! That man is the devil, Madame, I feel sure! Show him in, said the Countess. I am here! said Thibault. You can leave us now, my girl, said the Countess to Lisette. The latter quitted the room and the Countess remained alone with Thibault. Thibault s appearance was not one to inspire confidence. He gave the impression of a man who had once and for all made up his mind, but it was also easy to see that it was for no good purpose; a Satanic smile played about his mouth, and there was a demoniacal light in his eyes. He had made no attempt to hide his red hairs, but had left them defiantly uncovered, and they hung over his forehead like a plume of flame. But still the Countess looked him full in the face without changing colour. My maid says that you know the way to my room; have you ever been here before? Yes, Madame, once. And when was that? The day before yesterday. At what time? From half-past ten till half-past twelve at night. The Countess looked steadily at him and said: That is not true. Would you like me to tell you what took place? During the time you mention? During the time I mention. Say on, replied the Countess, laconically. Thibault was equally laconic. Monsieur Raoul came in by that door, he said, pointing to the one leading into the corridor, and Lisette left him here alone. You entered the room by that one, he continued, indicating the dressing-room door, and you found him on his knees. Your hair was unbound, only fastened back by three diamond pins, you wore a pink silk dressing-gown, trimmed with lace, pink silk stockings, cloth-of-silver slippers and a chain of pearls round your neck. You describe my dress exactly, said the Countess, continue. You tried to pick a quarrel with Monsieur Raoul, first because he loitered in the corridors to kiss your waiting-maid; secondly, because someone had met him late at night on the road between Erneville and Villers-Cotterets; thirdly, because, at the ball given at the Castle, at which you yourself were not present, he danced four times with Madame de Bonneuil. Continue. In answer to your accusations, your lover made excuses for himself, some good, some bad; you, however, were satisfied with them for you were just forgiving him when Lisette rushed in full of alarm calling to Monsieur Raoul to escape, as your husband had just returned. Lisette was right, you can be nothing less than the devil, said the Countess with a sinister laugh, and I think we shall be able to do business together.... Finish your account. Then you and your maid together pushed Monsieur Raoul, who resisted, into the dressing-room; Lisette forced him along the corridors and through two or three rooms; they then went down a winding staircase, in the wing of the Castle opposite to the one by which they had gone up. On arriving at the foot of the staircase, the fugitives found the door locked; then they ran into a kind of office where Lisette opened the window, which was about seven or eight feet above the ground. Monsieur Raoul leaped down out of this window, ran to the stable, found his horse still there, but hamstrung; then he swore that if he met the Count at any time he would hamstring him as the Count had hamstrung his horse, for he thought it a cowardly act to injure a poor beast so unnecessarily. Then he went on foot to the breach, climbed it, and found the Count awaiting him outside the park, with his sword drawn. The Baron had his hunting-knife with him; he drew it, and the duel began. Was the Count alone? Wait ... the Count appeared to be alone; after the fourth or fifth pass the Count was wounded in the shoulder, and sank on one knee, crying: help, Lestocq! Then the Baron remembered his oath, and hamstrung the Count as he had hamstrung the horse; but as the Baron rose, Lestocq drove his knife into his back; it passed under the shoulder blade and out through the chest. I need not tell you where ... you kissed the wound yourself. And after that? The Count and his huntsman returned to the Castle, leaving the Baron lying helpless; when the latter came to, he made signs to some passing peasants, who put him on a litter, and bore him away, with the intention of taking him to Villers-Cotterets; but he was in such pain, that they could not carry him farther than Puiseux; there they laid him on the bed where you found him, and on which he breathed his last a second after the half hour after nine in the evening. The Countess rose, and without speaking, went to her jewel-case and took out the pearls she had worn two nights before. She handed them to Thibault. What are they for? he asked. Take them, said the Countess, they are worth fifty thousand livres. Are you still anxious for revenge? Yes, replied the Countess. Revenge will cost more than that. How much will it cost? Wait for me to-morrow night, said Thibault, and I will tell you. Where shall I await you? asked the Countess. Here, said Thibault, with the leer of a wild animal. I will await you here, said the Countess. Till to-morrow then. Till to-morrow. Thibault went out. The Countess went and replaced the pearls in her dressing case; lifted up a false bottom, and drew from underneath it a small bottle containing an opal-coloured liquid, and a little dagger with a jewelled handle and case, and a blade inlaid with gold. She hid both beneath her pillow, knelt at her prie-dieu, and, her prayer finished, threw herself dressed on to her bed.... CHAPTER XX TRUE TO TRYST On quitting the Countess s room, Thibault had left the castle by the way which he had described to her, and soon found himself safe beyond its walls and outside the park. And now, for the first time in his life, Thibault had really nowhere to go. His hut was burnt, he was without a friend, and like Cain, he was a wanderer on the face of the earth. He turned to the unfailing shelter of the forest, and there made his way to the lower end of Chavigny; as the day was breaking he came across a solitary house, and asked if he could buy some bread. The woman belonging to it, her husband being away, gave him some, but refused to receive payment for it; his appearance frightened her. Having now food sufficient for the day, Thibault returned to the forest, with the intention of spending his time till evening in a part which he knew between Fleury and Longpont, where the trees were especially thick and tall. As he was looking for a resting place behind a rock, his eye was attracted by a shining object lying at the bottom of a slope, and his curiosity led him to climb down and see what it was. The shining object was the silver badge belonging to a huntsman s shoulder-belt; the shoulder-belt was slung round the neck of a dead body, or rather of a skeleton, for the flesh had been entirely eaten off the bones, which were as clean as if prepared for an anatomist s study or a painter s studio. The skeleton looked as if it had only lain there since the preceding night. Ah! ah! said Thibault, this is probably the work of my friends, the wolves; they evidently profited by the permission which I gave them. Curious to know if possible who the victim was, he examined it more closely; his curiosity was soon satisfied, for the badge, which the wolves had no doubt rejected as less easily digestible than the rest, was lying on the chest of the skeleton, like a ticket on a bale of goods. J. B. LESTOCQ, Head Keeper to the Comte de Mont-Gobert. Well done! laughed Thibault, here is one at least who did not live long to enjoy the result of his murderous act. Then, contracting his brow, he muttered to himself, in a low voice, and this time without laughing: Is there perhaps, after all, what people call a Providence? Lestocq s death was not difficult to account for. He had probably been executing some order for his master that night, and on the road between Mont-Gobert and Longpont, had been attacked by wolves. He had defended himself with the same knife with which he had wounded the Baron, for Thibault found the knife a few paces off, at a spot where the ground showed traces of a severe struggle; at last, being disarmed, the ferocious beasts had dragged him into the hollow, and there devoured him. Thibault was becoming so indifferent to everything that he felt neither pleasure nor regret, neither satisfaction nor remorse, at Lestocq s death; all he thought was, that it simplified matters for the Countess, as she would now only have her husband upon whom she need revenge herself. Then he went and found a place where the rocks afforded him the best shelter from the wind, and prepared to spend his day there in peace. Towards mid-day, he heard the horn of the Lord of Vez, and the cry of his hounds; the mighty huntsman was after game, but the chase did not pass near enough to Thibault to disturb him. At last the night came. At nine o clock Thibault rose and set out for the Castle of Mont-Gobert. He found the breach, followed the path he knew, and came to the little hut where Lisette had been awaiting him on the night when he had come in the guise of Raoul. The poor girl was there this evening, but alarmed and trembling. Thibault wished to carry out the old traditions and tried to kiss her, but she sprang back with visible signs of fear. Do not touch me, she said, or I shall call out. Oh, indeed! my pretty one, said Thibault, you were not so sour-tempered the other day with the Baron Raoul. May be not, said the girl, but a great many things have happened since the other day. And many more to happen still, said Thibault in a lively tone. I think, said the waiting-maid in a mournful voice, that the climax is already reached. Then, as she went on in front. If you wish to come, she added, follow me. Thibault followed her; Lisette, without the slightest effort at concealment, walked straight across the open space that lay between the trees and the castle. You are courageous to-day, said Thibault, and supposing some one were to see us.... There is no fear now, she answered, the eyes that could have seen us are all closed. Although he did not understand what the young girl meant by these words, the tone in which they were spoken made Thibault shiver. He continued to follow her in silence as they went up the winding-stairs to the first floor. As Lisette laid her hand on the key of the door, Thibault suddenly stopped her. Something in the silence and solitude of the castle filled him with fear; it seemed as if a curse might have fallen on the place. Where are we going? said Thibault, scarcely knowing himself what he said. You know well enough, surely. Into the Countess s room? Into the Countess s room. She is waiting for me? She is waiting for you. And Lisette opened the door. Go in, she said. Thibault went in, and Lisette shut the door behind him and waited outside. It was the same exquisite room, lighted in the same manner, filled with the same sweet scent. Thibault looked round for the Countess, he expected to see her appear at the dressing-room door, but the door remained closed. Not a sound was to be heard in the room, except the ticking of the S vres clock, and the beating of Thibault s heart. He began to look about him with a feeling of shuddering fear for which he could not account; then his eyes fell on the bed; the Countess was lying asleep upon it. In her hair were the same diamond pins, round her neck the same pearls; she was dressed in the same pink silk dressing-gown, and had on the same little slippers of cloth of silver which she had worn to receive the Baron Raoul.

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thus within its cell. But he could still hear the priest, who not only spoke to him, but endeavoured by shaking him to arouse him from his lethargy. Thibault found this very fatiguing, and it was lucky for the priest that the wounded man, just now, had no superhuman power, for he inwardly sent the good man to the devil, many times over. Before long it seemed to him that some sort of hot burning pan was being inserted under the soles of his feet, his loins, his head; his blood began to circulate, then to boil, like water over a fire. His ideas became confused, his clenched jaws opened; his tongue which had been bound became loosened; some disconnected words escaped him. Ah, ah! he thought to himself, this no doubt is what the good doctor spoke about as delirium; and, for the while at least, this was his last lucid idea. His whole life--and his life had really only existed since his first acquaintance with the black wolf--passed before him. He saw himself following, and failing to hit the buck; saw himself tied to the oak-tree, and the blows of the strap falling on him; saw himself and the black wolf drawing up their compact; saw himself trying to pass the devil s ring over Agnelette s finger; saw himself trying to pull out the red hairs, which now covered a third of his head. Then he saw himself on his way to pay court to the pretty Madame Polet of the mill, meeting Landry, and getting rid of his rival; pursued by the farm servants, and followed by his wolves. He saw himself making the acquaintance of Madame Magloire, hunting for her, eating his share of the game, hiding behind the curtains, discovered by Ma tre Magloire, flouted by the Baron of Vez, turned out by all three. Again he saw the hollow tree, with his wolves couching around it and the owls perched on its branches, and heard the sounds of the approaching violins and hautboy and saw himself looking, as Agnelette and the happy wedding party went by. He saw himself the victim of angry jealousy, endeavouring to fight against it by the help of drink, and across his troubled brain came the recollection of Fran ois, of Champagne, and the Inn-keeper; he heard the galloping of Baron Raoul s horse, and he felt himself knocked down and rolling in the muddy road. Then he ceased to see himself as Thibault; in his stead arose the figure of the handsome young rider whose form he had taken for a while. Once more he was kissing Lisette, once more his lips were touching the Countess s hand; then he was wanting to escape, but he found himself at a cross-road where three ways only met, and each of these was guarded by one of his victims: the first, by the spectre of a drowned man, that was Marcotte; the second, by a young man dying of fever on a hospital bed, that was Landry; the third, by a wounded man, dragging himself along on one knee, and trying in vain to stand up on his mutilated leg, that was the Comte de Mont-Gobert. He fancied that as all these things passed before him, he told the history of them one by one, and that the priest, as he listened to this strange confession, looked more like a dying man, was paler and more trembling than the man whose confession he was listening to; that he wanted to give him absolution, but that he, Thibault, pushed him away, shaking his head, and that he cried out with a terrible laugh: I want no absolution! I am damned! damned! damned! And in the midst of all this hallucination, this delirious madness, the spirit of Thibault could hear the priest s clock striking the hours, and as they struck he counted them. Only this clock seemed to have grown to gigantic proportions and the face of it was the blue vault of heaven, and the numbers on it were flames; and the clock was called eternity, and the monstrous pendulum, as it swung backwards and forwards called out in turn at every beat: Never! For ever! And so he lay and heard the long hours of the day pass one by one; and then at last the clock struck nine. At half past nine, he, Thibault, would have been Raoul, and Raoul would have been Thibault, for just four and twenty hours. As the last stroke of the hour died away, Thibault felt the fever passing from him, it was succeeded by a sensation of coldness, which almost amounted to shivering. He opened his eyes, all trembling with cold, and saw the priest at the foot of the bed saying the prayers for the dying, and the hands of the actual clock pointing to a quarter past nine. His senses had become so acute, that, imperceptible as was their double movement, he could yet see both the larger and smaller one slowly creeping along; they were gradually nearing the critical hour; half past nine! Although the face of the clock was in darkness, it seemed illuminated by some inward light. As the minute hand approached the number 6, a spasm becoming every instant more and more violent shook the dying man; his feet were like ice, and the numbness slowly, but steadily, mounted from the feet to the knees, from the knees to the thighs, from the thighs to the lower part of the body. The sweat was running down his forehead, but he had no strength to wipe it away, nor even to ask to have it done. It was a sweat of agony which he knew every moment might be the sweat of death. All kinds of strange shapes, which had nothing of the human about them, floated before his eyes; the light faded away; wings as of bats seemed to lift his body and carry it into some twilight region, which was neither life nor death, but seemed a part of both. Then the twilight itself grew darker and darker; his eyes closed, and like a blind man stumbling in the dark, his heavy wings seemed to flap against strange and unknown things. After that he sank away into unfathomable depths, into bottomless abysses, but still he heard the sound of a bell. The bell rang once, and scarcely had it ceased to vibrate when the dying man uttered a cry. The priest rose and went to the side of the bed; with that cry the Baron Raoul had breathed his last: it was exactly one second after the half hour after nine. CHAPTER XIX THE DEAD AND THE LIVING At the same moment that the trembling soul of the young Baron passed away, Thibault, awaking as if from an agitated sleep full of terrible dreams, sat up in his bed. He was surrounded by fire, every corner of his hut was in flames; at first he thought it was a continuation of his nightmare, but then he heard cries of, Death to the wizard! death to the sorcerer! death to the were-wolf! and he understood that some terrible attack was being made upon him. The flames came nearer, they reached the bed, he felt their heat upon him; a few seconds more and he would be burned alive in the midst of the flaming pile. Thibault leaped from his bed, seized his boar-spear, and dashed out of the back door of his hut. No sooner did his enemies see him rush through the fire and emerge from the smoke than their cries of death to him! death! were redoubled. One or two shots were fired at him; Thibault heard the bullets whizz past; those who shot at him wore the livery of the Grand Master, and Thibault recalled the menace of the lord of Vez, uttered against him a few days before. He was then beyond the pale of the law; he could be smoked out of his hole like a fox; he could be shot down like a buck. Luckily for Thibault, not one of the bullets struck him, and as the circle of fire made by the burning hut was not a large one, he was soon safely beyond it, and once again in shelter of the vast and gloomy forest, where, had it not been for the cries of the menials who were burning down his house, the silence would have been as complete as the darkness. He sat down at the foot of a tree and buried his head in his hands. The events of the last forty-eight hours had succeeded each other with such rapidity, that there was no lack of matter to serve as subjects of reflection to the shoe-maker. The twenty-four hours, during which he had lived another existence than his own, seemed to him like a dream, so much so, that he would not have dared to take his oath that all this recent affair between the Baron, and the Countess Jane, and the Comte de Mont-Gobert had really taken place. The church clock of Oigny struck ten, and he lifted his head. Ten o clock! and only half-an-hour before he had been still in the body of the Baron Raoul, as he lay dying in the house of the Cur of Puiseux. Ah! he exclaimed I must find out for certain what has happened! It is not quite three miles to Puiseux and I shall be there in half-an-hour; I should like to ascertain if the Baron is really dead. A melancholy howl made answer to his words; he looked round; his faithful body-guards were back again; he had his pack about him once more. Come, wolves! come, my only friends! he cried, let us be off! And he started with them across the forest in the direction of Puiseux. The huntsmen of the Lord of Vez, who were poking up the remaining embers of the ruined hut, saw a man pass, as in a vision, running at the head of a dozen or more wolves. They crossed themselves, and became more convinced than ever that Thibault was a wizard. And anybody else who had seen Thibault, flying along as swiftly as his swiftest wolf, and covering the ground between Oigny and Puiseux in less than a quarter of an hour, would certainly have thought so too. He stopped at the entrance to the village, and turning to his wolves, he said: Friend wolves, I have no further need of you to-night, and indeed, I wish to be alone. Amuse yourselves with the stables in the neighbourhood, I give you leave to do just what you like; and if you chance to come across one of those two-footed animals, called men, forget, friend wolves, that they claim to be made in the image of their Creator, and never fear to satisfy your appetite. Whereupon the wolves rushed off in different directions, uttering howls of joy, while Thibault went on into the village. The Cur s house adjoined the church, and Thibault made a circuit so as to avoid passing in front of the Cross. When he reached the presbytery, he looked in through one of the windows, and there he saw a bed with a lighted wax candle beside it; and over the bed itself was spread a sheet, and beneath the sheet could be seen the outlines of a figure lying rigid in death. There appeared to be no one in the house; the priest had no doubt gone to give notice of the death to the village authorities. Thibault went inside, and called the priest, but no one answered. He walked up to the bed, there could be no mistake about the body under the sheet being that of a dead man; he lifted the sheet, there could be no mistaking that the dead body was that of Raoul de Vauparfond. On his face lay the still, unearthly beauty which is born of eternity. His features, which in life had been somewhat too feminine for those of a man, had now assumed the sombre grandeur of death. At the first glance you might have thought he only slept; but on gazing longer you recognised in that immovable calm something more profound than sleep. The presence of one who carries a sickle for sceptre, and wears a shroud for mantle was unmistakeable, and you knew King Death was there. Thibault had left the door open, and he heard the sound of light footsteps approaching; at the back of the alcove hung a serge curtain, which masked a door by which he could retreat, if necessary, and he now went and placed himself behind it. A woman dressed in black, and covered with a black veil, paused in some hesitation at the door. The head of another woman passed in front of her s and looked carefully round the room. I think it is safe for Madame to go in; I see no one about, and besides, I will keep watch. The woman in black went in, walked slowly towards the bed, stopped a moment to wipe the perspiration from her forehead, then, without further hesitation, lifted the sheet which Thibault had thrown back over the face of the dead man; Thibault then saw that it was the Countess. Alas! she said, what they told me was true! Then she fell on her knees, praying and sobbing. Her prayer being ended, she rose again, kissed the pale forehead of the dead, and the blue marks of the wound through which the soul had fled. O my well-beloved, my Raoul; she murmured, who will tell me the name of your murderer? who will help me to avenge your death? As the Countess finished speaking, she gave a cry and started back; she seemed to hear a voice that answered, I will! and something had shaken the green serge curtain. The Countess however was no chicken-hearted woman; she took the candle that was burning at the head of the bed and went and looked behind the curtain; but no creature was to be seen, a closed door was all that met her eye. She put back the candle, took a pair of gold scissors from a little pocket case, cut off a curl of the dead man s hair, placed the curl in a black velvet sachet which hung over her heart, gave one last kiss to her dead lover, laid the sheet over his face, and left the house. Just as she was crossing the threshold, she met the priest, and drawing back, drew her veil more closely over her face. Who are you? asked the priest. I am Grief, she answered, and the priest made way for her to pass. The Countess and her attendant had come on foot, and were returning in the same manner, for the distance between Puiseux and Mont-Gobert was not much more than half-a-mile. When about half way along their road, a man, who had been hiding behind a willow tree, stepped forward and barred their further passage. Lisette screamed, but the Countess, without the least sign of fear, went up to the man, and asked: Who are you? The man who answered I will just now, when you were asking who would denounce the murderer to you. And you can help me to revenge myself on him? Whenever you like. At once? We cannot talk here very well. Where can we find a better place? In your own room for one. We must not enter the castle together. No; but I can go through the breach in the park wall: Mademoiselle Lisette can wait for me in the hut where Monsieur Raoul used to leave his horse, she can take me up the winding-stair and into your room. If you should be in your dressing-room, I will wait for you, as Monsieur Raoul waited the night before last. The two women shuddered from head to foot. Who are you to know all these details? asked the Countess. I will tell you when the time comes for me to tell you. The Countess hesitated a moment, then, recovering her resolution, she said: Very well then; come through the breach; Lisette will wait for you in the stable. Oh! Madame, cried the maid, I shall never dare to go and bring that man to you! I will go myself then, said the Countess. Well said! put in Thibault, there spoke a woman worth calling one! And so saying he slid down into a kind of ravine beside the road, and disappeared. Lisette very nearly fainted. Lean on me, Mademoiselle, said the Countess, and let us walk on; I am anxious to hear what this man has to say to me. The two women entered the castle by way of the farm; no one had seen them go out, and no one saw them return. On reaching her room, the Countess waited for Lisette to bring up the stranger. Ten minutes had elapsed when the maid hurried in with a pale face. Ah! Madame, she said, there was no need for me to go to fetch him. What do you mean? asked the Countess. Because he knew his way up as well as I did! And oh! Madame! if you knew what he said to me! That man is the devil, Madame, I feel sure! Show him in, said the Countess. I am here! said Thibault. You can leave us now, my girl, said the Countess to Lisette. The latter quitted the room and the Countess remained alone with Thibault. Thibault s appearance was not one to inspire confidence. He gave the impression of a man who had once and for all made up his mind, but it was also easy to see that it was for no good purpose; a Satanic smile played about his mouth, and there was a demoniacal light in his eyes. He had made no attempt to hide his red hairs, but had left them defiantly uncovered, and they hung over his forehead like a plume of flame. But still the Countess looked him full in the face without changing colour. My maid says that you know the way to my room; have you ever been here before? Yes, Madame, once. And when was that? The day before yesterday. At what time? From half-past ten till half-past twelve at night. The Countess looked steadily at him and said: That is not true. Would you like me to tell you what took place? During the time you mention? During the time I mention. Say on, replied the Countess, laconically. Thibault was equally laconic. Monsieur Raoul came in by that door, he said, pointing to the one leading into the corridor, and Lisette left him here alone. You entered the room by that one, he continued, indicating the dressing-room door, and you found him on his knees. Your hair was unbound, only fastened back by three diamond pins, you wore a pink silk dressing-gown, trimmed with lace, pink silk stockings, cloth-of-silver slippers and a chain of pearls round your neck. You describe my dress exactly, said the Countess, continue. You tried to pick a quarrel with Monsieur Raoul, first because he loitered in the corridors to kiss your waiting-maid; secondly, because someone had met him late at night on the road between Erneville and Villers-Cotterets; thirdly, because, at the ball given at the Castle, at which you yourself were not present, he danced four times with Madame de Bonneuil. Continue. In answer to your accusations, your lover made excuses for himself, some good, some bad; you, however, were satisfied with them for you were just forgiving him when Lisette rushed in full of alarm calling to Monsieur Raoul to escape, as your husband had just returned. Lisette was right, you can be nothing less than the devil, said the Countess with a sinister laugh, and I think we shall be able to do business together.... Finish your account. Then you and your maid together pushed Monsieur Raoul, who resisted, into the dressing-room; Lisette forced him along the corridors and through two or three rooms; they then went down a winding staircase, in the wing of the Castle opposite to the one by which they had gone up. On arriving at the foot of the staircase, the fugitives found the door locked; then they ran into a kind of office where Lisette opened the window, which was about seven or eight feet above the ground. Monsieur Raoul leaped down out of this window, ran to the stable, found his horse still there, but hamstrung; then he swore that if he met the Count at any time he would hamstring him as the Count had hamstrung his horse, for he thought it a cowardly act to injure a poor beast so unnecessarily. Then he went on foot to the breach, climbed it, and found the Count awaiting him outside the park, with his sword drawn. The Baron had his hunting-knife with him; he drew it, and the duel began. Was the Count alone? Wait ... the Count appeared to be alone; after the fourth or fifth pass the Count was wounded in the shoulder, and sank on one knee, crying: help, Lestocq! Then the Baron remembered his oath, and hamstrung the Count as he had hamstrung the horse; but as the Baron rose, Lestocq drove his knife into his back; it passed under the shoulder blade and out through the chest. I need not tell you where ... you kissed the wound yourself. And after that? The Count and his huntsman returned to the Castle, leaving the Baron lying helpless; when the latter came to, he made signs to some passing peasants, who put him on a litter, and bore him away, with the intention of taking him to Villers-Cotterets; but he was in such pain, that they could not carry him farther than Puiseux; there they laid him on the bed where you found him, and on which he breathed his last a second after the half hour after nine in the evening. The Countess rose, and without speaking, went to her jewel-case and took out the pearls she had worn two nights before. She handed them to Thibault. What are they for? he asked. Take them, said the Countess, they are worth fifty thousand livres. Are you still anxious for revenge? Yes, replied the Countess. Revenge will cost more than that. How much will it cost? Wait for me to-morrow night, said Thibault, and I will tell you. Where shall I await you? asked the Countess. Here, said Thibault, with the leer of a wild animal. I will await you here, said the Countess. Till to-morrow then. Till to-morrow. Thibault went out. The Countess went and replaced the pearls in her dressing case; lifted up a false bottom, and drew from underneath it a small bottle containing an opal-coloured liquid, and a little dagger with a jewelled handle and case, and a blade inlaid with gold. She hid both beneath her pillow, knelt at her prie-dieu, and, her prayer finished, threw herself dressed on to her bed.... CHAPTER XX TRUE TO TRYST On quitting the Countess s room, Thibault had left the castle by the way which he had described to her, and soon found himself safe beyond its walls and outside the park. And now, for the first time in his life, Thibault had really nowhere to go. His hut was burnt, he was without a friend, and like Cain, he was a wanderer on the face of the earth. He turned to the unfailing shelter of the forest, and there made his way to the lower end of Chavigny; as the day was breaking he came across a solitary house, and asked if he could buy some bread. The woman belonging to it, her husband being away, gave him some, but refused to receive payment for it; his appearance frightened her. Having now food sufficient for the day, Thibault returned to the forest, with the intention of spending his time till evening in a part which he knew between Fleury and Longpont, where the trees were especially thick and tall. As he was looking for a resting place behind a rock, his eye was attracted by a shining object lying at the bottom of a slope, and his curiosity led him to climb down and see what it was. The shining object was the silver badge belonging to a huntsman s shoulder-belt; the shoulder-belt was slung round the neck of a dead body, or rather of a skeleton, for the flesh had been entirely eaten off the bones, which were as clean as if prepared for an anatomist s study or a painter s studio. The skeleton looked as if it had only lain there since the preceding night. Ah! ah! said Thibault, this is probably the work of my friends, the wolves; they evidently profited by the permission which I gave them. Curious to know if possible who the victim was, he examined it more closely; his curiosity was soon satisfied, for the badge, which the wolves had no doubt rejected as less easily digestible than the rest, was lying on the chest of the skeleton, like a ticket on a bale of goods. J. B. LESTOCQ, Head Keeper to the Comte de Mont-Gobert. Well done! laughed Thibault, here is one at least who did not live long to enjoy the result of his murderous act. Then, contracting his brow, he muttered to himself, in a low voice, and this time without laughing: Is there perhaps, after all, what people call a Providence? Lestocq s death was not difficult to account for. He had probably been executing some order for his master that night, and on the road between Mont-Gobert and Longpont, had been attacked by wolves. He had defended himself with the same knife with which he had wounded the Baron, for Thibault found the knife a few paces off, at a spot where the ground showed traces of a severe struggle; at last, being disarmed, the ferocious beasts had dragged him into the hollow, and there devoured him. Thibault was becoming so indifferent to everything that he felt neither pleasure nor regret, neither satisfaction nor remorse, at Lestocq s death; all he thought was, that it simplified matters for the Countess, as she would now only have her husband upon whom she need revenge herself. Then he went and found a place where the rocks afforded him the best shelter from the wind, and prepared to spend his day there in peace. Towards mid-day, he heard the horn of the Lord of Vez, and the cry of his hounds; the mighty huntsman was after game, but the chase did not pass near enough to Thibault to disturb him. At last the night came. At nine o clock Thibault rose and set out for the Castle of Mont-Gobert. He found the breach, followed the path he knew, and came to the little hut where Lisette had been awaiting him on the night when he had come in the guise of Raoul. The poor girl was there this evening, but alarmed and trembling. Thibault wished to carry out the old traditions and tried to kiss her, but she sprang back with visible signs of fear. Do not touch me, she said, or I shall call out. Oh, indeed! my pretty one, said Thibault, you were not so sour-tempered the other day with the Baron Raoul. May be not, said the girl, but a great many things have happened since the other day. And many more to happen still, said Thibault in a lively tone. I think, said the waiting-maid in a mournful voice, that the climax is already reached. Then, as she went on in front. If you wish to come, she added, follow me. Thibault followed her; Lisette, without the slightest effort at concealment, walked straight across the open space that lay between the trees and the castle. You are courageous to-day, said Thibault, and supposing some one were to see us.... There is no fear now, she answered, the eyes that could have seen us are all closed. Although he did not understand what the young girl meant by these words, the tone in which they were spoken made Thibault shiver. He continued to follow her in silence as they went up the winding-stairs to the first floor. As Lisette laid her hand on the key of the door, Thibault suddenly stopped her. Something in the silence and solitude of the castle filled him with fear; it seemed as if a curse might have fallen on the place. Where are we going? said Thibault, scarcely knowing himself what he said. You know well enough, surely. Into the Countess s room? Into the Countess s room. She is waiting for me? She is waiting for you. And Lisette opened the door. Go in, she said. Thibault went in, and Lisette shut the door behind him and waited outside. It was the same exquisite room, lighted in the same manner, filled with the same sweet scent. Thibault looked round for the Countess, he expected to see her appear at the dressing-room door, but the door remained closed. Not a sound was to be heard in the room, except the ticking of the S vres clock, and the beating of Thibault s heart. He began to look about him with a feeling of shuddering fear for which he could not account; then his eyes fell on the bed; the Countess was lying asleep upon it. In her hair were the same diamond pins, round her neck the same pearls; she was dressed in the same pink silk dressing-gown, and had on the same little slippers of cloth of silver which she had worn to receive the Baron Raoul.

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How many times the word 'grimly' appears in the text?

thus within its cell. But he could still hear the priest, who not only spoke to him, but endeavoured by shaking him to arouse him from his lethargy. Thibault found this very fatiguing, and it was lucky for the priest that the wounded man, just now, had no superhuman power, for he inwardly sent the good man to the devil, many times over. Before long it seemed to him that some sort of hot burning pan was being inserted under the soles of his feet, his loins, his head; his blood began to circulate, then to boil, like water over a fire. His ideas became confused, his clenched jaws opened; his tongue which had been bound became loosened; some disconnected words escaped him. Ah, ah! he thought to himself, this no doubt is what the good doctor spoke about as delirium; and, for the while at least, this was his last lucid idea. His whole life--and his life had really only existed since his first acquaintance with the black wolf--passed before him. He saw himself following, and failing to hit the buck; saw himself tied to the oak-tree, and the blows of the strap falling on him; saw himself and the black wolf drawing up their compact; saw himself trying to pass the devil s ring over Agnelette s finger; saw himself trying to pull out the red hairs, which now covered a third of his head. Then he saw himself on his way to pay court to the pretty Madame Polet of the mill, meeting Landry, and getting rid of his rival; pursued by the farm servants, and followed by his wolves. He saw himself making the acquaintance of Madame Magloire, hunting for her, eating his share of the game, hiding behind the curtains, discovered by Ma tre Magloire, flouted by the Baron of Vez, turned out by all three. Again he saw the hollow tree, with his wolves couching around it and the owls perched on its branches, and heard the sounds of the approaching violins and hautboy and saw himself looking, as Agnelette and the happy wedding party went by. He saw himself the victim of angry jealousy, endeavouring to fight against it by the help of drink, and across his troubled brain came the recollection of Fran ois, of Champagne, and the Inn-keeper; he heard the galloping of Baron Raoul s horse, and he felt himself knocked down and rolling in the muddy road. Then he ceased to see himself as Thibault; in his stead arose the figure of the handsome young rider whose form he had taken for a while. Once more he was kissing Lisette, once more his lips were touching the Countess s hand; then he was wanting to escape, but he found himself at a cross-road where three ways only met, and each of these was guarded by one of his victims: the first, by the spectre of a drowned man, that was Marcotte; the second, by a young man dying of fever on a hospital bed, that was Landry; the third, by a wounded man, dragging himself along on one knee, and trying in vain to stand up on his mutilated leg, that was the Comte de Mont-Gobert. He fancied that as all these things passed before him, he told the history of them one by one, and that the priest, as he listened to this strange confession, looked more like a dying man, was paler and more trembling than the man whose confession he was listening to; that he wanted to give him absolution, but that he, Thibault, pushed him away, shaking his head, and that he cried out with a terrible laugh: I want no absolution! I am damned! damned! damned! And in the midst of all this hallucination, this delirious madness, the spirit of Thibault could hear the priest s clock striking the hours, and as they struck he counted them. Only this clock seemed to have grown to gigantic proportions and the face of it was the blue vault of heaven, and the numbers on it were flames; and the clock was called eternity, and the monstrous pendulum, as it swung backwards and forwards called out in turn at every beat: Never! For ever! And so he lay and heard the long hours of the day pass one by one; and then at last the clock struck nine. At half past nine, he, Thibault, would have been Raoul, and Raoul would have been Thibault, for just four and twenty hours. As the last stroke of the hour died away, Thibault felt the fever passing from him, it was succeeded by a sensation of coldness, which almost amounted to shivering. He opened his eyes, all trembling with cold, and saw the priest at the foot of the bed saying the prayers for the dying, and the hands of the actual clock pointing to a quarter past nine. His senses had become so acute, that, imperceptible as was their double movement, he could yet see both the larger and smaller one slowly creeping along; they were gradually nearing the critical hour; half past nine! Although the face of the clock was in darkness, it seemed illuminated by some inward light. As the minute hand approached the number 6, a spasm becoming every instant more and more violent shook the dying man; his feet were like ice, and the numbness slowly, but steadily, mounted from the feet to the knees, from the knees to the thighs, from the thighs to the lower part of the body. The sweat was running down his forehead, but he had no strength to wipe it away, nor even to ask to have it done. It was a sweat of agony which he knew every moment might be the sweat of death. All kinds of strange shapes, which had nothing of the human about them, floated before his eyes; the light faded away; wings as of bats seemed to lift his body and carry it into some twilight region, which was neither life nor death, but seemed a part of both. Then the twilight itself grew darker and darker; his eyes closed, and like a blind man stumbling in the dark, his heavy wings seemed to flap against strange and unknown things. After that he sank away into unfathomable depths, into bottomless abysses, but still he heard the sound of a bell. The bell rang once, and scarcely had it ceased to vibrate when the dying man uttered a cry. The priest rose and went to the side of the bed; with that cry the Baron Raoul had breathed his last: it was exactly one second after the half hour after nine. CHAPTER XIX THE DEAD AND THE LIVING At the same moment that the trembling soul of the young Baron passed away, Thibault, awaking as if from an agitated sleep full of terrible dreams, sat up in his bed. He was surrounded by fire, every corner of his hut was in flames; at first he thought it was a continuation of his nightmare, but then he heard cries of, Death to the wizard! death to the sorcerer! death to the were-wolf! and he understood that some terrible attack was being made upon him. The flames came nearer, they reached the bed, he felt their heat upon him; a few seconds more and he would be burned alive in the midst of the flaming pile. Thibault leaped from his bed, seized his boar-spear, and dashed out of the back door of his hut. No sooner did his enemies see him rush through the fire and emerge from the smoke than their cries of death to him! death! were redoubled. One or two shots were fired at him; Thibault heard the bullets whizz past; those who shot at him wore the livery of the Grand Master, and Thibault recalled the menace of the lord of Vez, uttered against him a few days before. He was then beyond the pale of the law; he could be smoked out of his hole like a fox; he could be shot down like a buck. Luckily for Thibault, not one of the bullets struck him, and as the circle of fire made by the burning hut was not a large one, he was soon safely beyond it, and once again in shelter of the vast and gloomy forest, where, had it not been for the cries of the menials who were burning down his house, the silence would have been as complete as the darkness. He sat down at the foot of a tree and buried his head in his hands. The events of the last forty-eight hours had succeeded each other with such rapidity, that there was no lack of matter to serve as subjects of reflection to the shoe-maker. The twenty-four hours, during which he had lived another existence than his own, seemed to him like a dream, so much so, that he would not have dared to take his oath that all this recent affair between the Baron, and the Countess Jane, and the Comte de Mont-Gobert had really taken place. The church clock of Oigny struck ten, and he lifted his head. Ten o clock! and only half-an-hour before he had been still in the body of the Baron Raoul, as he lay dying in the house of the Cur of Puiseux. Ah! he exclaimed I must find out for certain what has happened! It is not quite three miles to Puiseux and I shall be there in half-an-hour; I should like to ascertain if the Baron is really dead. A melancholy howl made answer to his words; he looked round; his faithful body-guards were back again; he had his pack about him once more. Come, wolves! come, my only friends! he cried, let us be off! And he started with them across the forest in the direction of Puiseux. The huntsmen of the Lord of Vez, who were poking up the remaining embers of the ruined hut, saw a man pass, as in a vision, running at the head of a dozen or more wolves. They crossed themselves, and became more convinced than ever that Thibault was a wizard. And anybody else who had seen Thibault, flying along as swiftly as his swiftest wolf, and covering the ground between Oigny and Puiseux in less than a quarter of an hour, would certainly have thought so too. He stopped at the entrance to the village, and turning to his wolves, he said: Friend wolves, I have no further need of you to-night, and indeed, I wish to be alone. Amuse yourselves with the stables in the neighbourhood, I give you leave to do just what you like; and if you chance to come across one of those two-footed animals, called men, forget, friend wolves, that they claim to be made in the image of their Creator, and never fear to satisfy your appetite. Whereupon the wolves rushed off in different directions, uttering howls of joy, while Thibault went on into the village. The Cur s house adjoined the church, and Thibault made a circuit so as to avoid passing in front of the Cross. When he reached the presbytery, he looked in through one of the windows, and there he saw a bed with a lighted wax candle beside it; and over the bed itself was spread a sheet, and beneath the sheet could be seen the outlines of a figure lying rigid in death. There appeared to be no one in the house; the priest had no doubt gone to give notice of the death to the village authorities. Thibault went inside, and called the priest, but no one answered. He walked up to the bed, there could be no mistake about the body under the sheet being that of a dead man; he lifted the sheet, there could be no mistaking that the dead body was that of Raoul de Vauparfond. On his face lay the still, unearthly beauty which is born of eternity. His features, which in life had been somewhat too feminine for those of a man, had now assumed the sombre grandeur of death. At the first glance you might have thought he only slept; but on gazing longer you recognised in that immovable calm something more profound than sleep. The presence of one who carries a sickle for sceptre, and wears a shroud for mantle was unmistakeable, and you knew King Death was there. Thibault had left the door open, and he heard the sound of light footsteps approaching; at the back of the alcove hung a serge curtain, which masked a door by which he could retreat, if necessary, and he now went and placed himself behind it. A woman dressed in black, and covered with a black veil, paused in some hesitation at the door. The head of another woman passed in front of her s and looked carefully round the room. I think it is safe for Madame to go in; I see no one about, and besides, I will keep watch. The woman in black went in, walked slowly towards the bed, stopped a moment to wipe the perspiration from her forehead, then, without further hesitation, lifted the sheet which Thibault had thrown back over the face of the dead man; Thibault then saw that it was the Countess. Alas! she said, what they told me was true! Then she fell on her knees, praying and sobbing. Her prayer being ended, she rose again, kissed the pale forehead of the dead, and the blue marks of the wound through which the soul had fled. O my well-beloved, my Raoul; she murmured, who will tell me the name of your murderer? who will help me to avenge your death? As the Countess finished speaking, she gave a cry and started back; she seemed to hear a voice that answered, I will! and something had shaken the green serge curtain. The Countess however was no chicken-hearted woman; she took the candle that was burning at the head of the bed and went and looked behind the curtain; but no creature was to be seen, a closed door was all that met her eye. She put back the candle, took a pair of gold scissors from a little pocket case, cut off a curl of the dead man s hair, placed the curl in a black velvet sachet which hung over her heart, gave one last kiss to her dead lover, laid the sheet over his face, and left the house. Just as she was crossing the threshold, she met the priest, and drawing back, drew her veil more closely over her face. Who are you? asked the priest. I am Grief, she answered, and the priest made way for her to pass. The Countess and her attendant had come on foot, and were returning in the same manner, for the distance between Puiseux and Mont-Gobert was not much more than half-a-mile. When about half way along their road, a man, who had been hiding behind a willow tree, stepped forward and barred their further passage. Lisette screamed, but the Countess, without the least sign of fear, went up to the man, and asked: Who are you? The man who answered I will just now, when you were asking who would denounce the murderer to you. And you can help me to revenge myself on him? Whenever you like. At once? We cannot talk here very well. Where can we find a better place? In your own room for one. We must not enter the castle together. No; but I can go through the breach in the park wall: Mademoiselle Lisette can wait for me in the hut where Monsieur Raoul used to leave his horse, she can take me up the winding-stair and into your room. If you should be in your dressing-room, I will wait for you, as Monsieur Raoul waited the night before last. The two women shuddered from head to foot. Who are you to know all these details? asked the Countess. I will tell you when the time comes for me to tell you. The Countess hesitated a moment, then, recovering her resolution, she said: Very well then; come through the breach; Lisette will wait for you in the stable. Oh! Madame, cried the maid, I shall never dare to go and bring that man to you! I will go myself then, said the Countess. Well said! put in Thibault, there spoke a woman worth calling one! And so saying he slid down into a kind of ravine beside the road, and disappeared. Lisette very nearly fainted. Lean on me, Mademoiselle, said the Countess, and let us walk on; I am anxious to hear what this man has to say to me. The two women entered the castle by way of the farm; no one had seen them go out, and no one saw them return. On reaching her room, the Countess waited for Lisette to bring up the stranger. Ten minutes had elapsed when the maid hurried in with a pale face. Ah! Madame, she said, there was no need for me to go to fetch him. What do you mean? asked the Countess. Because he knew his way up as well as I did! And oh! Madame! if you knew what he said to me! That man is the devil, Madame, I feel sure! Show him in, said the Countess. I am here! said Thibault. You can leave us now, my girl, said the Countess to Lisette. The latter quitted the room and the Countess remained alone with Thibault. Thibault s appearance was not one to inspire confidence. He gave the impression of a man who had once and for all made up his mind, but it was also easy to see that it was for no good purpose; a Satanic smile played about his mouth, and there was a demoniacal light in his eyes. He had made no attempt to hide his red hairs, but had left them defiantly uncovered, and they hung over his forehead like a plume of flame. But still the Countess looked him full in the face without changing colour. My maid says that you know the way to my room; have you ever been here before? Yes, Madame, once. And when was that? The day before yesterday. At what time? From half-past ten till half-past twelve at night. The Countess looked steadily at him and said: That is not true. Would you like me to tell you what took place? During the time you mention? During the time I mention. Say on, replied the Countess, laconically. Thibault was equally laconic. Monsieur Raoul came in by that door, he said, pointing to the one leading into the corridor, and Lisette left him here alone. You entered the room by that one, he continued, indicating the dressing-room door, and you found him on his knees. Your hair was unbound, only fastened back by three diamond pins, you wore a pink silk dressing-gown, trimmed with lace, pink silk stockings, cloth-of-silver slippers and a chain of pearls round your neck. You describe my dress exactly, said the Countess, continue. You tried to pick a quarrel with Monsieur Raoul, first because he loitered in the corridors to kiss your waiting-maid; secondly, because someone had met him late at night on the road between Erneville and Villers-Cotterets; thirdly, because, at the ball given at the Castle, at which you yourself were not present, he danced four times with Madame de Bonneuil. Continue. In answer to your accusations, your lover made excuses for himself, some good, some bad; you, however, were satisfied with them for you were just forgiving him when Lisette rushed in full of alarm calling to Monsieur Raoul to escape, as your husband had just returned. Lisette was right, you can be nothing less than the devil, said the Countess with a sinister laugh, and I think we shall be able to do business together.... Finish your account. Then you and your maid together pushed Monsieur Raoul, who resisted, into the dressing-room; Lisette forced him along the corridors and through two or three rooms; they then went down a winding staircase, in the wing of the Castle opposite to the one by which they had gone up. On arriving at the foot of the staircase, the fugitives found the door locked; then they ran into a kind of office where Lisette opened the window, which was about seven or eight feet above the ground. Monsieur Raoul leaped down out of this window, ran to the stable, found his horse still there, but hamstrung; then he swore that if he met the Count at any time he would hamstring him as the Count had hamstrung his horse, for he thought it a cowardly act to injure a poor beast so unnecessarily. Then he went on foot to the breach, climbed it, and found the Count awaiting him outside the park, with his sword drawn. The Baron had his hunting-knife with him; he drew it, and the duel began. Was the Count alone? Wait ... the Count appeared to be alone; after the fourth or fifth pass the Count was wounded in the shoulder, and sank on one knee, crying: help, Lestocq! Then the Baron remembered his oath, and hamstrung the Count as he had hamstrung the horse; but as the Baron rose, Lestocq drove his knife into his back; it passed under the shoulder blade and out through the chest. I need not tell you where ... you kissed the wound yourself. And after that? The Count and his huntsman returned to the Castle, leaving the Baron lying helpless; when the latter came to, he made signs to some passing peasants, who put him on a litter, and bore him away, with the intention of taking him to Villers-Cotterets; but he was in such pain, that they could not carry him farther than Puiseux; there they laid him on the bed where you found him, and on which he breathed his last a second after the half hour after nine in the evening. The Countess rose, and without speaking, went to her jewel-case and took out the pearls she had worn two nights before. She handed them to Thibault. What are they for? he asked. Take them, said the Countess, they are worth fifty thousand livres. Are you still anxious for revenge? Yes, replied the Countess. Revenge will cost more than that. How much will it cost? Wait for me to-morrow night, said Thibault, and I will tell you. Where shall I await you? asked the Countess. Here, said Thibault, with the leer of a wild animal. I will await you here, said the Countess. Till to-morrow then. Till to-morrow. Thibault went out. The Countess went and replaced the pearls in her dressing case; lifted up a false bottom, and drew from underneath it a small bottle containing an opal-coloured liquid, and a little dagger with a jewelled handle and case, and a blade inlaid with gold. She hid both beneath her pillow, knelt at her prie-dieu, and, her prayer finished, threw herself dressed on to her bed.... CHAPTER XX TRUE TO TRYST On quitting the Countess s room, Thibault had left the castle by the way which he had described to her, and soon found himself safe beyond its walls and outside the park. And now, for the first time in his life, Thibault had really nowhere to go. His hut was burnt, he was without a friend, and like Cain, he was a wanderer on the face of the earth. He turned to the unfailing shelter of the forest, and there made his way to the lower end of Chavigny; as the day was breaking he came across a solitary house, and asked if he could buy some bread. The woman belonging to it, her husband being away, gave him some, but refused to receive payment for it; his appearance frightened her. Having now food sufficient for the day, Thibault returned to the forest, with the intention of spending his time till evening in a part which he knew between Fleury and Longpont, where the trees were especially thick and tall. As he was looking for a resting place behind a rock, his eye was attracted by a shining object lying at the bottom of a slope, and his curiosity led him to climb down and see what it was. The shining object was the silver badge belonging to a huntsman s shoulder-belt; the shoulder-belt was slung round the neck of a dead body, or rather of a skeleton, for the flesh had been entirely eaten off the bones, which were as clean as if prepared for an anatomist s study or a painter s studio. The skeleton looked as if it had only lain there since the preceding night. Ah! ah! said Thibault, this is probably the work of my friends, the wolves; they evidently profited by the permission which I gave them. Curious to know if possible who the victim was, he examined it more closely; his curiosity was soon satisfied, for the badge, which the wolves had no doubt rejected as less easily digestible than the rest, was lying on the chest of the skeleton, like a ticket on a bale of goods. J. B. LESTOCQ, Head Keeper to the Comte de Mont-Gobert. Well done! laughed Thibault, here is one at least who did not live long to enjoy the result of his murderous act. Then, contracting his brow, he muttered to himself, in a low voice, and this time without laughing: Is there perhaps, after all, what people call a Providence? Lestocq s death was not difficult to account for. He had probably been executing some order for his master that night, and on the road between Mont-Gobert and Longpont, had been attacked by wolves. He had defended himself with the same knife with which he had wounded the Baron, for Thibault found the knife a few paces off, at a spot where the ground showed traces of a severe struggle; at last, being disarmed, the ferocious beasts had dragged him into the hollow, and there devoured him. Thibault was becoming so indifferent to everything that he felt neither pleasure nor regret, neither satisfaction nor remorse, at Lestocq s death; all he thought was, that it simplified matters for the Countess, as she would now only have her husband upon whom she need revenge herself. Then he went and found a place where the rocks afforded him the best shelter from the wind, and prepared to spend his day there in peace. Towards mid-day, he heard the horn of the Lord of Vez, and the cry of his hounds; the mighty huntsman was after game, but the chase did not pass near enough to Thibault to disturb him. At last the night came. At nine o clock Thibault rose and set out for the Castle of Mont-Gobert. He found the breach, followed the path he knew, and came to the little hut where Lisette had been awaiting him on the night when he had come in the guise of Raoul. The poor girl was there this evening, but alarmed and trembling. Thibault wished to carry out the old traditions and tried to kiss her, but she sprang back with visible signs of fear. Do not touch me, she said, or I shall call out. Oh, indeed! my pretty one, said Thibault, you were not so sour-tempered the other day with the Baron Raoul. May be not, said the girl, but a great many things have happened since the other day. And many more to happen still, said Thibault in a lively tone. I think, said the waiting-maid in a mournful voice, that the climax is already reached. Then, as she went on in front. If you wish to come, she added, follow me. Thibault followed her; Lisette, without the slightest effort at concealment, walked straight across the open space that lay between the trees and the castle. You are courageous to-day, said Thibault, and supposing some one were to see us.... There is no fear now, she answered, the eyes that could have seen us are all closed. Although he did not understand what the young girl meant by these words, the tone in which they were spoken made Thibault shiver. He continued to follow her in silence as they went up the winding-stairs to the first floor. As Lisette laid her hand on the key of the door, Thibault suddenly stopped her. Something in the silence and solitude of the castle filled him with fear; it seemed as if a curse might have fallen on the place. Where are we going? said Thibault, scarcely knowing himself what he said. You know well enough, surely. Into the Countess s room? Into the Countess s room. She is waiting for me? She is waiting for you. And Lisette opened the door. Go in, she said. Thibault went in, and Lisette shut the door behind him and waited outside. It was the same exquisite room, lighted in the same manner, filled with the same sweet scent. Thibault looked round for the Countess, he expected to see her appear at the dressing-room door, but the door remained closed. Not a sound was to be heard in the room, except the ticking of the S vres clock, and the beating of Thibault s heart. He began to look about him with a feeling of shuddering fear for which he could not account; then his eyes fell on the bed; the Countess was lying asleep upon it. In her hair were the same diamond pins, round her neck the same pearls; she was dressed in the same pink silk dressing-gown, and had on the same little slippers of cloth of silver which she had worn to receive the Baron Raoul.

across

How many times the word 'across' appears in the text?

thus within its cell. But he could still hear the priest, who not only spoke to him, but endeavoured by shaking him to arouse him from his lethargy. Thibault found this very fatiguing, and it was lucky for the priest that the wounded man, just now, had no superhuman power, for he inwardly sent the good man to the devil, many times over. Before long it seemed to him that some sort of hot burning pan was being inserted under the soles of his feet, his loins, his head; his blood began to circulate, then to boil, like water over a fire. His ideas became confused, his clenched jaws opened; his tongue which had been bound became loosened; some disconnected words escaped him. Ah, ah! he thought to himself, this no doubt is what the good doctor spoke about as delirium; and, for the while at least, this was his last lucid idea. His whole life--and his life had really only existed since his first acquaintance with the black wolf--passed before him. He saw himself following, and failing to hit the buck; saw himself tied to the oak-tree, and the blows of the strap falling on him; saw himself and the black wolf drawing up their compact; saw himself trying to pass the devil s ring over Agnelette s finger; saw himself trying to pull out the red hairs, which now covered a third of his head. Then he saw himself on his way to pay court to the pretty Madame Polet of the mill, meeting Landry, and getting rid of his rival; pursued by the farm servants, and followed by his wolves. He saw himself making the acquaintance of Madame Magloire, hunting for her, eating his share of the game, hiding behind the curtains, discovered by Ma tre Magloire, flouted by the Baron of Vez, turned out by all three. Again he saw the hollow tree, with his wolves couching around it and the owls perched on its branches, and heard the sounds of the approaching violins and hautboy and saw himself looking, as Agnelette and the happy wedding party went by. He saw himself the victim of angry jealousy, endeavouring to fight against it by the help of drink, and across his troubled brain came the recollection of Fran ois, of Champagne, and the Inn-keeper; he heard the galloping of Baron Raoul s horse, and he felt himself knocked down and rolling in the muddy road. Then he ceased to see himself as Thibault; in his stead arose the figure of the handsome young rider whose form he had taken for a while. Once more he was kissing Lisette, once more his lips were touching the Countess s hand; then he was wanting to escape, but he found himself at a cross-road where three ways only met, and each of these was guarded by one of his victims: the first, by the spectre of a drowned man, that was Marcotte; the second, by a young man dying of fever on a hospital bed, that was Landry; the third, by a wounded man, dragging himself along on one knee, and trying in vain to stand up on his mutilated leg, that was the Comte de Mont-Gobert. He fancied that as all these things passed before him, he told the history of them one by one, and that the priest, as he listened to this strange confession, looked more like a dying man, was paler and more trembling than the man whose confession he was listening to; that he wanted to give him absolution, but that he, Thibault, pushed him away, shaking his head, and that he cried out with a terrible laugh: I want no absolution! I am damned! damned! damned! And in the midst of all this hallucination, this delirious madness, the spirit of Thibault could hear the priest s clock striking the hours, and as they struck he counted them. Only this clock seemed to have grown to gigantic proportions and the face of it was the blue vault of heaven, and the numbers on it were flames; and the clock was called eternity, and the monstrous pendulum, as it swung backwards and forwards called out in turn at every beat: Never! For ever! And so he lay and heard the long hours of the day pass one by one; and then at last the clock struck nine. At half past nine, he, Thibault, would have been Raoul, and Raoul would have been Thibault, for just four and twenty hours. As the last stroke of the hour died away, Thibault felt the fever passing from him, it was succeeded by a sensation of coldness, which almost amounted to shivering. He opened his eyes, all trembling with cold, and saw the priest at the foot of the bed saying the prayers for the dying, and the hands of the actual clock pointing to a quarter past nine. His senses had become so acute, that, imperceptible as was their double movement, he could yet see both the larger and smaller one slowly creeping along; they were gradually nearing the critical hour; half past nine! Although the face of the clock was in darkness, it seemed illuminated by some inward light. As the minute hand approached the number 6, a spasm becoming every instant more and more violent shook the dying man; his feet were like ice, and the numbness slowly, but steadily, mounted from the feet to the knees, from the knees to the thighs, from the thighs to the lower part of the body. The sweat was running down his forehead, but he had no strength to wipe it away, nor even to ask to have it done. It was a sweat of agony which he knew every moment might be the sweat of death. All kinds of strange shapes, which had nothing of the human about them, floated before his eyes; the light faded away; wings as of bats seemed to lift his body and carry it into some twilight region, which was neither life nor death, but seemed a part of both. Then the twilight itself grew darker and darker; his eyes closed, and like a blind man stumbling in the dark, his heavy wings seemed to flap against strange and unknown things. After that he sank away into unfathomable depths, into bottomless abysses, but still he heard the sound of a bell. The bell rang once, and scarcely had it ceased to vibrate when the dying man uttered a cry. The priest rose and went to the side of the bed; with that cry the Baron Raoul had breathed his last: it was exactly one second after the half hour after nine. CHAPTER XIX THE DEAD AND THE LIVING At the same moment that the trembling soul of the young Baron passed away, Thibault, awaking as if from an agitated sleep full of terrible dreams, sat up in his bed. He was surrounded by fire, every corner of his hut was in flames; at first he thought it was a continuation of his nightmare, but then he heard cries of, Death to the wizard! death to the sorcerer! death to the were-wolf! and he understood that some terrible attack was being made upon him. The flames came nearer, they reached the bed, he felt their heat upon him; a few seconds more and he would be burned alive in the midst of the flaming pile. Thibault leaped from his bed, seized his boar-spear, and dashed out of the back door of his hut. No sooner did his enemies see him rush through the fire and emerge from the smoke than their cries of death to him! death! were redoubled. One or two shots were fired at him; Thibault heard the bullets whizz past; those who shot at him wore the livery of the Grand Master, and Thibault recalled the menace of the lord of Vez, uttered against him a few days before. He was then beyond the pale of the law; he could be smoked out of his hole like a fox; he could be shot down like a buck. Luckily for Thibault, not one of the bullets struck him, and as the circle of fire made by the burning hut was not a large one, he was soon safely beyond it, and once again in shelter of the vast and gloomy forest, where, had it not been for the cries of the menials who were burning down his house, the silence would have been as complete as the darkness. He sat down at the foot of a tree and buried his head in his hands. The events of the last forty-eight hours had succeeded each other with such rapidity, that there was no lack of matter to serve as subjects of reflection to the shoe-maker. The twenty-four hours, during which he had lived another existence than his own, seemed to him like a dream, so much so, that he would not have dared to take his oath that all this recent affair between the Baron, and the Countess Jane, and the Comte de Mont-Gobert had really taken place. The church clock of Oigny struck ten, and he lifted his head. Ten o clock! and only half-an-hour before he had been still in the body of the Baron Raoul, as he lay dying in the house of the Cur of Puiseux. Ah! he exclaimed I must find out for certain what has happened! It is not quite three miles to Puiseux and I shall be there in half-an-hour; I should like to ascertain if the Baron is really dead. A melancholy howl made answer to his words; he looked round; his faithful body-guards were back again; he had his pack about him once more. Come, wolves! come, my only friends! he cried, let us be off! And he started with them across the forest in the direction of Puiseux. The huntsmen of the Lord of Vez, who were poking up the remaining embers of the ruined hut, saw a man pass, as in a vision, running at the head of a dozen or more wolves. They crossed themselves, and became more convinced than ever that Thibault was a wizard. And anybody else who had seen Thibault, flying along as swiftly as his swiftest wolf, and covering the ground between Oigny and Puiseux in less than a quarter of an hour, would certainly have thought so too. He stopped at the entrance to the village, and turning to his wolves, he said: Friend wolves, I have no further need of you to-night, and indeed, I wish to be alone. Amuse yourselves with the stables in the neighbourhood, I give you leave to do just what you like; and if you chance to come across one of those two-footed animals, called men, forget, friend wolves, that they claim to be made in the image of their Creator, and never fear to satisfy your appetite. Whereupon the wolves rushed off in different directions, uttering howls of joy, while Thibault went on into the village. The Cur s house adjoined the church, and Thibault made a circuit so as to avoid passing in front of the Cross. When he reached the presbytery, he looked in through one of the windows, and there he saw a bed with a lighted wax candle beside it; and over the bed itself was spread a sheet, and beneath the sheet could be seen the outlines of a figure lying rigid in death. There appeared to be no one in the house; the priest had no doubt gone to give notice of the death to the village authorities. Thibault went inside, and called the priest, but no one answered. He walked up to the bed, there could be no mistake about the body under the sheet being that of a dead man; he lifted the sheet, there could be no mistaking that the dead body was that of Raoul de Vauparfond. On his face lay the still, unearthly beauty which is born of eternity. His features, which in life had been somewhat too feminine for those of a man, had now assumed the sombre grandeur of death. At the first glance you might have thought he only slept; but on gazing longer you recognised in that immovable calm something more profound than sleep. The presence of one who carries a sickle for sceptre, and wears a shroud for mantle was unmistakeable, and you knew King Death was there. Thibault had left the door open, and he heard the sound of light footsteps approaching; at the back of the alcove hung a serge curtain, which masked a door by which he could retreat, if necessary, and he now went and placed himself behind it. A woman dressed in black, and covered with a black veil, paused in some hesitation at the door. The head of another woman passed in front of her s and looked carefully round the room. I think it is safe for Madame to go in; I see no one about, and besides, I will keep watch. The woman in black went in, walked slowly towards the bed, stopped a moment to wipe the perspiration from her forehead, then, without further hesitation, lifted the sheet which Thibault had thrown back over the face of the dead man; Thibault then saw that it was the Countess. Alas! she said, what they told me was true! Then she fell on her knees, praying and sobbing. Her prayer being ended, she rose again, kissed the pale forehead of the dead, and the blue marks of the wound through which the soul had fled. O my well-beloved, my Raoul; she murmured, who will tell me the name of your murderer? who will help me to avenge your death? As the Countess finished speaking, she gave a cry and started back; she seemed to hear a voice that answered, I will! and something had shaken the green serge curtain. The Countess however was no chicken-hearted woman; she took the candle that was burning at the head of the bed and went and looked behind the curtain; but no creature was to be seen, a closed door was all that met her eye. She put back the candle, took a pair of gold scissors from a little pocket case, cut off a curl of the dead man s hair, placed the curl in a black velvet sachet which hung over her heart, gave one last kiss to her dead lover, laid the sheet over his face, and left the house. Just as she was crossing the threshold, she met the priest, and drawing back, drew her veil more closely over her face. Who are you? asked the priest. I am Grief, she answered, and the priest made way for her to pass. The Countess and her attendant had come on foot, and were returning in the same manner, for the distance between Puiseux and Mont-Gobert was not much more than half-a-mile. When about half way along their road, a man, who had been hiding behind a willow tree, stepped forward and barred their further passage. Lisette screamed, but the Countess, without the least sign of fear, went up to the man, and asked: Who are you? The man who answered I will just now, when you were asking who would denounce the murderer to you. And you can help me to revenge myself on him? Whenever you like. At once? We cannot talk here very well. Where can we find a better place? In your own room for one. We must not enter the castle together. No; but I can go through the breach in the park wall: Mademoiselle Lisette can wait for me in the hut where Monsieur Raoul used to leave his horse, she can take me up the winding-stair and into your room. If you should be in your dressing-room, I will wait for you, as Monsieur Raoul waited the night before last. The two women shuddered from head to foot. Who are you to know all these details? asked the Countess. I will tell you when the time comes for me to tell you. The Countess hesitated a moment, then, recovering her resolution, she said: Very well then; come through the breach; Lisette will wait for you in the stable. Oh! Madame, cried the maid, I shall never dare to go and bring that man to you! I will go myself then, said the Countess. Well said! put in Thibault, there spoke a woman worth calling one! And so saying he slid down into a kind of ravine beside the road, and disappeared. Lisette very nearly fainted. Lean on me, Mademoiselle, said the Countess, and let us walk on; I am anxious to hear what this man has to say to me. The two women entered the castle by way of the farm; no one had seen them go out, and no one saw them return. On reaching her room, the Countess waited for Lisette to bring up the stranger. Ten minutes had elapsed when the maid hurried in with a pale face. Ah! Madame, she said, there was no need for me to go to fetch him. What do you mean? asked the Countess. Because he knew his way up as well as I did! And oh! Madame! if you knew what he said to me! That man is the devil, Madame, I feel sure! Show him in, said the Countess. I am here! said Thibault. You can leave us now, my girl, said the Countess to Lisette. The latter quitted the room and the Countess remained alone with Thibault. Thibault s appearance was not one to inspire confidence. He gave the impression of a man who had once and for all made up his mind, but it was also easy to see that it was for no good purpose; a Satanic smile played about his mouth, and there was a demoniacal light in his eyes. He had made no attempt to hide his red hairs, but had left them defiantly uncovered, and they hung over his forehead like a plume of flame. But still the Countess looked him full in the face without changing colour. My maid says that you know the way to my room; have you ever been here before? Yes, Madame, once. And when was that? The day before yesterday. At what time? From half-past ten till half-past twelve at night. The Countess looked steadily at him and said: That is not true. Would you like me to tell you what took place? During the time you mention? During the time I mention. Say on, replied the Countess, laconically. Thibault was equally laconic. Monsieur Raoul came in by that door, he said, pointing to the one leading into the corridor, and Lisette left him here alone. You entered the room by that one, he continued, indicating the dressing-room door, and you found him on his knees. Your hair was unbound, only fastened back by three diamond pins, you wore a pink silk dressing-gown, trimmed with lace, pink silk stockings, cloth-of-silver slippers and a chain of pearls round your neck. You describe my dress exactly, said the Countess, continue. You tried to pick a quarrel with Monsieur Raoul, first because he loitered in the corridors to kiss your waiting-maid; secondly, because someone had met him late at night on the road between Erneville and Villers-Cotterets; thirdly, because, at the ball given at the Castle, at which you yourself were not present, he danced four times with Madame de Bonneuil. Continue. In answer to your accusations, your lover made excuses for himself, some good, some bad; you, however, were satisfied with them for you were just forgiving him when Lisette rushed in full of alarm calling to Monsieur Raoul to escape, as your husband had just returned. Lisette was right, you can be nothing less than the devil, said the Countess with a sinister laugh, and I think we shall be able to do business together.... Finish your account. Then you and your maid together pushed Monsieur Raoul, who resisted, into the dressing-room; Lisette forced him along the corridors and through two or three rooms; they then went down a winding staircase, in the wing of the Castle opposite to the one by which they had gone up. On arriving at the foot of the staircase, the fugitives found the door locked; then they ran into a kind of office where Lisette opened the window, which was about seven or eight feet above the ground. Monsieur Raoul leaped down out of this window, ran to the stable, found his horse still there, but hamstrung; then he swore that if he met the Count at any time he would hamstring him as the Count had hamstrung his horse, for he thought it a cowardly act to injure a poor beast so unnecessarily. Then he went on foot to the breach, climbed it, and found the Count awaiting him outside the park, with his sword drawn. The Baron had his hunting-knife with him; he drew it, and the duel began. Was the Count alone? Wait ... the Count appeared to be alone; after the fourth or fifth pass the Count was wounded in the shoulder, and sank on one knee, crying: help, Lestocq! Then the Baron remembered his oath, and hamstrung the Count as he had hamstrung the horse; but as the Baron rose, Lestocq drove his knife into his back; it passed under the shoulder blade and out through the chest. I need not tell you where ... you kissed the wound yourself. And after that? The Count and his huntsman returned to the Castle, leaving the Baron lying helpless; when the latter came to, he made signs to some passing peasants, who put him on a litter, and bore him away, with the intention of taking him to Villers-Cotterets; but he was in such pain, that they could not carry him farther than Puiseux; there they laid him on the bed where you found him, and on which he breathed his last a second after the half hour after nine in the evening. The Countess rose, and without speaking, went to her jewel-case and took out the pearls she had worn two nights before. She handed them to Thibault. What are they for? he asked. Take them, said the Countess, they are worth fifty thousand livres. Are you still anxious for revenge? Yes, replied the Countess. Revenge will cost more than that. How much will it cost? Wait for me to-morrow night, said Thibault, and I will tell you. Where shall I await you? asked the Countess. Here, said Thibault, with the leer of a wild animal. I will await you here, said the Countess. Till to-morrow then. Till to-morrow. Thibault went out. The Countess went and replaced the pearls in her dressing case; lifted up a false bottom, and drew from underneath it a small bottle containing an opal-coloured liquid, and a little dagger with a jewelled handle and case, and a blade inlaid with gold. She hid both beneath her pillow, knelt at her prie-dieu, and, her prayer finished, threw herself dressed on to her bed.... CHAPTER XX TRUE TO TRYST On quitting the Countess s room, Thibault had left the castle by the way which he had described to her, and soon found himself safe beyond its walls and outside the park. And now, for the first time in his life, Thibault had really nowhere to go. His hut was burnt, he was without a friend, and like Cain, he was a wanderer on the face of the earth. He turned to the unfailing shelter of the forest, and there made his way to the lower end of Chavigny; as the day was breaking he came across a solitary house, and asked if he could buy some bread. The woman belonging to it, her husband being away, gave him some, but refused to receive payment for it; his appearance frightened her. Having now food sufficient for the day, Thibault returned to the forest, with the intention of spending his time till evening in a part which he knew between Fleury and Longpont, where the trees were especially thick and tall. As he was looking for a resting place behind a rock, his eye was attracted by a shining object lying at the bottom of a slope, and his curiosity led him to climb down and see what it was. The shining object was the silver badge belonging to a huntsman s shoulder-belt; the shoulder-belt was slung round the neck of a dead body, or rather of a skeleton, for the flesh had been entirely eaten off the bones, which were as clean as if prepared for an anatomist s study or a painter s studio. The skeleton looked as if it had only lain there since the preceding night. Ah! ah! said Thibault, this is probably the work of my friends, the wolves; they evidently profited by the permission which I gave them. Curious to know if possible who the victim was, he examined it more closely; his curiosity was soon satisfied, for the badge, which the wolves had no doubt rejected as less easily digestible than the rest, was lying on the chest of the skeleton, like a ticket on a bale of goods. J. B. LESTOCQ, Head Keeper to the Comte de Mont-Gobert. Well done! laughed Thibault, here is one at least who did not live long to enjoy the result of his murderous act. Then, contracting his brow, he muttered to himself, in a low voice, and this time without laughing: Is there perhaps, after all, what people call a Providence? Lestocq s death was not difficult to account for. He had probably been executing some order for his master that night, and on the road between Mont-Gobert and Longpont, had been attacked by wolves. He had defended himself with the same knife with which he had wounded the Baron, for Thibault found the knife a few paces off, at a spot where the ground showed traces of a severe struggle; at last, being disarmed, the ferocious beasts had dragged him into the hollow, and there devoured him. Thibault was becoming so indifferent to everything that he felt neither pleasure nor regret, neither satisfaction nor remorse, at Lestocq s death; all he thought was, that it simplified matters for the Countess, as she would now only have her husband upon whom she need revenge herself. Then he went and found a place where the rocks afforded him the best shelter from the wind, and prepared to spend his day there in peace. Towards mid-day, he heard the horn of the Lord of Vez, and the cry of his hounds; the mighty huntsman was after game, but the chase did not pass near enough to Thibault to disturb him. At last the night came. At nine o clock Thibault rose and set out for the Castle of Mont-Gobert. He found the breach, followed the path he knew, and came to the little hut where Lisette had been awaiting him on the night when he had come in the guise of Raoul. The poor girl was there this evening, but alarmed and trembling. Thibault wished to carry out the old traditions and tried to kiss her, but she sprang back with visible signs of fear. Do not touch me, she said, or I shall call out. Oh, indeed! my pretty one, said Thibault, you were not so sour-tempered the other day with the Baron Raoul. May be not, said the girl, but a great many things have happened since the other day. And many more to happen still, said Thibault in a lively tone. I think, said the waiting-maid in a mournful voice, that the climax is already reached. Then, as she went on in front. If you wish to come, she added, follow me. Thibault followed her; Lisette, without the slightest effort at concealment, walked straight across the open space that lay between the trees and the castle. You are courageous to-day, said Thibault, and supposing some one were to see us.... There is no fear now, she answered, the eyes that could have seen us are all closed. Although he did not understand what the young girl meant by these words, the tone in which they were spoken made Thibault shiver. He continued to follow her in silence as they went up the winding-stairs to the first floor. As Lisette laid her hand on the key of the door, Thibault suddenly stopped her. Something in the silence and solitude of the castle filled him with fear; it seemed as if a curse might have fallen on the place. Where are we going? said Thibault, scarcely knowing himself what he said. You know well enough, surely. Into the Countess s room? Into the Countess s room. She is waiting for me? She is waiting for you. And Lisette opened the door. Go in, she said. Thibault went in, and Lisette shut the door behind him and waited outside. It was the same exquisite room, lighted in the same manner, filled with the same sweet scent. Thibault looked round for the Countess, he expected to see her appear at the dressing-room door, but the door remained closed. Not a sound was to be heard in the room, except the ticking of the S vres clock, and the beating of Thibault s heart. He began to look about him with a feeling of shuddering fear for which he could not account; then his eyes fell on the bed; the Countess was lying asleep upon it. In her hair were the same diamond pins, round her neck the same pearls; she was dressed in the same pink silk dressing-gown, and had on the same little slippers of cloth of silver which she had worn to receive the Baron Raoul.

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thus within its cell. But he could still hear the priest, who not only spoke to him, but endeavoured by shaking him to arouse him from his lethargy. Thibault found this very fatiguing, and it was lucky for the priest that the wounded man, just now, had no superhuman power, for he inwardly sent the good man to the devil, many times over. Before long it seemed to him that some sort of hot burning pan was being inserted under the soles of his feet, his loins, his head; his blood began to circulate, then to boil, like water over a fire. His ideas became confused, his clenched jaws opened; his tongue which had been bound became loosened; some disconnected words escaped him. Ah, ah! he thought to himself, this no doubt is what the good doctor spoke about as delirium; and, for the while at least, this was his last lucid idea. His whole life--and his life had really only existed since his first acquaintance with the black wolf--passed before him. He saw himself following, and failing to hit the buck; saw himself tied to the oak-tree, and the blows of the strap falling on him; saw himself and the black wolf drawing up their compact; saw himself trying to pass the devil s ring over Agnelette s finger; saw himself trying to pull out the red hairs, which now covered a third of his head. Then he saw himself on his way to pay court to the pretty Madame Polet of the mill, meeting Landry, and getting rid of his rival; pursued by the farm servants, and followed by his wolves. He saw himself making the acquaintance of Madame Magloire, hunting for her, eating his share of the game, hiding behind the curtains, discovered by Ma tre Magloire, flouted by the Baron of Vez, turned out by all three. Again he saw the hollow tree, with his wolves couching around it and the owls perched on its branches, and heard the sounds of the approaching violins and hautboy and saw himself looking, as Agnelette and the happy wedding party went by. He saw himself the victim of angry jealousy, endeavouring to fight against it by the help of drink, and across his troubled brain came the recollection of Fran ois, of Champagne, and the Inn-keeper; he heard the galloping of Baron Raoul s horse, and he felt himself knocked down and rolling in the muddy road. Then he ceased to see himself as Thibault; in his stead arose the figure of the handsome young rider whose form he had taken for a while. Once more he was kissing Lisette, once more his lips were touching the Countess s hand; then he was wanting to escape, but he found himself at a cross-road where three ways only met, and each of these was guarded by one of his victims: the first, by the spectre of a drowned man, that was Marcotte; the second, by a young man dying of fever on a hospital bed, that was Landry; the third, by a wounded man, dragging himself along on one knee, and trying in vain to stand up on his mutilated leg, that was the Comte de Mont-Gobert. He fancied that as all these things passed before him, he told the history of them one by one, and that the priest, as he listened to this strange confession, looked more like a dying man, was paler and more trembling than the man whose confession he was listening to; that he wanted to give him absolution, but that he, Thibault, pushed him away, shaking his head, and that he cried out with a terrible laugh: I want no absolution! I am damned! damned! damned! And in the midst of all this hallucination, this delirious madness, the spirit of Thibault could hear the priest s clock striking the hours, and as they struck he counted them. Only this clock seemed to have grown to gigantic proportions and the face of it was the blue vault of heaven, and the numbers on it were flames; and the clock was called eternity, and the monstrous pendulum, as it swung backwards and forwards called out in turn at every beat: Never! For ever! And so he lay and heard the long hours of the day pass one by one; and then at last the clock struck nine. At half past nine, he, Thibault, would have been Raoul, and Raoul would have been Thibault, for just four and twenty hours. As the last stroke of the hour died away, Thibault felt the fever passing from him, it was succeeded by a sensation of coldness, which almost amounted to shivering. He opened his eyes, all trembling with cold, and saw the priest at the foot of the bed saying the prayers for the dying, and the hands of the actual clock pointing to a quarter past nine. His senses had become so acute, that, imperceptible as was their double movement, he could yet see both the larger and smaller one slowly creeping along; they were gradually nearing the critical hour; half past nine! Although the face of the clock was in darkness, it seemed illuminated by some inward light. As the minute hand approached the number 6, a spasm becoming every instant more and more violent shook the dying man; his feet were like ice, and the numbness slowly, but steadily, mounted from the feet to the knees, from the knees to the thighs, from the thighs to the lower part of the body. The sweat was running down his forehead, but he had no strength to wipe it away, nor even to ask to have it done. It was a sweat of agony which he knew every moment might be the sweat of death. All kinds of strange shapes, which had nothing of the human about them, floated before his eyes; the light faded away; wings as of bats seemed to lift his body and carry it into some twilight region, which was neither life nor death, but seemed a part of both. Then the twilight itself grew darker and darker; his eyes closed, and like a blind man stumbling in the dark, his heavy wings seemed to flap against strange and unknown things. After that he sank away into unfathomable depths, into bottomless abysses, but still he heard the sound of a bell. The bell rang once, and scarcely had it ceased to vibrate when the dying man uttered a cry. The priest rose and went to the side of the bed; with that cry the Baron Raoul had breathed his last: it was exactly one second after the half hour after nine. CHAPTER XIX THE DEAD AND THE LIVING At the same moment that the trembling soul of the young Baron passed away, Thibault, awaking as if from an agitated sleep full of terrible dreams, sat up in his bed. He was surrounded by fire, every corner of his hut was in flames; at first he thought it was a continuation of his nightmare, but then he heard cries of, Death to the wizard! death to the sorcerer! death to the were-wolf! and he understood that some terrible attack was being made upon him. The flames came nearer, they reached the bed, he felt their heat upon him; a few seconds more and he would be burned alive in the midst of the flaming pile. Thibault leaped from his bed, seized his boar-spear, and dashed out of the back door of his hut. No sooner did his enemies see him rush through the fire and emerge from the smoke than their cries of death to him! death! were redoubled. One or two shots were fired at him; Thibault heard the bullets whizz past; those who shot at him wore the livery of the Grand Master, and Thibault recalled the menace of the lord of Vez, uttered against him a few days before. He was then beyond the pale of the law; he could be smoked out of his hole like a fox; he could be shot down like a buck. Luckily for Thibault, not one of the bullets struck him, and as the circle of fire made by the burning hut was not a large one, he was soon safely beyond it, and once again in shelter of the vast and gloomy forest, where, had it not been for the cries of the menials who were burning down his house, the silence would have been as complete as the darkness. He sat down at the foot of a tree and buried his head in his hands. The events of the last forty-eight hours had succeeded each other with such rapidity, that there was no lack of matter to serve as subjects of reflection to the shoe-maker. The twenty-four hours, during which he had lived another existence than his own, seemed to him like a dream, so much so, that he would not have dared to take his oath that all this recent affair between the Baron, and the Countess Jane, and the Comte de Mont-Gobert had really taken place. The church clock of Oigny struck ten, and he lifted his head. Ten o clock! and only half-an-hour before he had been still in the body of the Baron Raoul, as he lay dying in the house of the Cur of Puiseux. Ah! he exclaimed I must find out for certain what has happened! It is not quite three miles to Puiseux and I shall be there in half-an-hour; I should like to ascertain if the Baron is really dead. A melancholy howl made answer to his words; he looked round; his faithful body-guards were back again; he had his pack about him once more. Come, wolves! come, my only friends! he cried, let us be off! And he started with them across the forest in the direction of Puiseux. The huntsmen of the Lord of Vez, who were poking up the remaining embers of the ruined hut, saw a man pass, as in a vision, running at the head of a dozen or more wolves. They crossed themselves, and became more convinced than ever that Thibault was a wizard. And anybody else who had seen Thibault, flying along as swiftly as his swiftest wolf, and covering the ground between Oigny and Puiseux in less than a quarter of an hour, would certainly have thought so too. He stopped at the entrance to the village, and turning to his wolves, he said: Friend wolves, I have no further need of you to-night, and indeed, I wish to be alone. Amuse yourselves with the stables in the neighbourhood, I give you leave to do just what you like; and if you chance to come across one of those two-footed animals, called men, forget, friend wolves, that they claim to be made in the image of their Creator, and never fear to satisfy your appetite. Whereupon the wolves rushed off in different directions, uttering howls of joy, while Thibault went on into the village. The Cur s house adjoined the church, and Thibault made a circuit so as to avoid passing in front of the Cross. When he reached the presbytery, he looked in through one of the windows, and there he saw a bed with a lighted wax candle beside it; and over the bed itself was spread a sheet, and beneath the sheet could be seen the outlines of a figure lying rigid in death. There appeared to be no one in the house; the priest had no doubt gone to give notice of the death to the village authorities. Thibault went inside, and called the priest, but no one answered. He walked up to the bed, there could be no mistake about the body under the sheet being that of a dead man; he lifted the sheet, there could be no mistaking that the dead body was that of Raoul de Vauparfond. On his face lay the still, unearthly beauty which is born of eternity. His features, which in life had been somewhat too feminine for those of a man, had now assumed the sombre grandeur of death. At the first glance you might have thought he only slept; but on gazing longer you recognised in that immovable calm something more profound than sleep. The presence of one who carries a sickle for sceptre, and wears a shroud for mantle was unmistakeable, and you knew King Death was there. Thibault had left the door open, and he heard the sound of light footsteps approaching; at the back of the alcove hung a serge curtain, which masked a door by which he could retreat, if necessary, and he now went and placed himself behind it. A woman dressed in black, and covered with a black veil, paused in some hesitation at the door. The head of another woman passed in front of her s and looked carefully round the room. I think it is safe for Madame to go in; I see no one about, and besides, I will keep watch. The woman in black went in, walked slowly towards the bed, stopped a moment to wipe the perspiration from her forehead, then, without further hesitation, lifted the sheet which Thibault had thrown back over the face of the dead man; Thibault then saw that it was the Countess. Alas! she said, what they told me was true! Then she fell on her knees, praying and sobbing. Her prayer being ended, she rose again, kissed the pale forehead of the dead, and the blue marks of the wound through which the soul had fled. O my well-beloved, my Raoul; she murmured, who will tell me the name of your murderer? who will help me to avenge your death? As the Countess finished speaking, she gave a cry and started back; she seemed to hear a voice that answered, I will! and something had shaken the green serge curtain. The Countess however was no chicken-hearted woman; she took the candle that was burning at the head of the bed and went and looked behind the curtain; but no creature was to be seen, a closed door was all that met her eye. She put back the candle, took a pair of gold scissors from a little pocket case, cut off a curl of the dead man s hair, placed the curl in a black velvet sachet which hung over her heart, gave one last kiss to her dead lover, laid the sheet over his face, and left the house. Just as she was crossing the threshold, she met the priest, and drawing back, drew her veil more closely over her face. Who are you? asked the priest. I am Grief, she answered, and the priest made way for her to pass. The Countess and her attendant had come on foot, and were returning in the same manner, for the distance between Puiseux and Mont-Gobert was not much more than half-a-mile. When about half way along their road, a man, who had been hiding behind a willow tree, stepped forward and barred their further passage. Lisette screamed, but the Countess, without the least sign of fear, went up to the man, and asked: Who are you? The man who answered I will just now, when you were asking who would denounce the murderer to you. And you can help me to revenge myself on him? Whenever you like. At once? We cannot talk here very well. Where can we find a better place? In your own room for one. We must not enter the castle together. No; but I can go through the breach in the park wall: Mademoiselle Lisette can wait for me in the hut where Monsieur Raoul used to leave his horse, she can take me up the winding-stair and into your room. If you should be in your dressing-room, I will wait for you, as Monsieur Raoul waited the night before last. The two women shuddered from head to foot. Who are you to know all these details? asked the Countess. I will tell you when the time comes for me to tell you. The Countess hesitated a moment, then, recovering her resolution, she said: Very well then; come through the breach; Lisette will wait for you in the stable. Oh! Madame, cried the maid, I shall never dare to go and bring that man to you! I will go myself then, said the Countess. Well said! put in Thibault, there spoke a woman worth calling one! And so saying he slid down into a kind of ravine beside the road, and disappeared. Lisette very nearly fainted. Lean on me, Mademoiselle, said the Countess, and let us walk on; I am anxious to hear what this man has to say to me. The two women entered the castle by way of the farm; no one had seen them go out, and no one saw them return. On reaching her room, the Countess waited for Lisette to bring up the stranger. Ten minutes had elapsed when the maid hurried in with a pale face. Ah! Madame, she said, there was no need for me to go to fetch him. What do you mean? asked the Countess. Because he knew his way up as well as I did! And oh! Madame! if you knew what he said to me! That man is the devil, Madame, I feel sure! Show him in, said the Countess. I am here! said Thibault. You can leave us now, my girl, said the Countess to Lisette. The latter quitted the room and the Countess remained alone with Thibault. Thibault s appearance was not one to inspire confidence. He gave the impression of a man who had once and for all made up his mind, but it was also easy to see that it was for no good purpose; a Satanic smile played about his mouth, and there was a demoniacal light in his eyes. He had made no attempt to hide his red hairs, but had left them defiantly uncovered, and they hung over his forehead like a plume of flame. But still the Countess looked him full in the face without changing colour. My maid says that you know the way to my room; have you ever been here before? Yes, Madame, once. And when was that? The day before yesterday. At what time? From half-past ten till half-past twelve at night. The Countess looked steadily at him and said: That is not true. Would you like me to tell you what took place? During the time you mention? During the time I mention. Say on, replied the Countess, laconically. Thibault was equally laconic. Monsieur Raoul came in by that door, he said, pointing to the one leading into the corridor, and Lisette left him here alone. You entered the room by that one, he continued, indicating the dressing-room door, and you found him on his knees. Your hair was unbound, only fastened back by three diamond pins, you wore a pink silk dressing-gown, trimmed with lace, pink silk stockings, cloth-of-silver slippers and a chain of pearls round your neck. You describe my dress exactly, said the Countess, continue. You tried to pick a quarrel with Monsieur Raoul, first because he loitered in the corridors to kiss your waiting-maid; secondly, because someone had met him late at night on the road between Erneville and Villers-Cotterets; thirdly, because, at the ball given at the Castle, at which you yourself were not present, he danced four times with Madame de Bonneuil. Continue. In answer to your accusations, your lover made excuses for himself, some good, some bad; you, however, were satisfied with them for you were just forgiving him when Lisette rushed in full of alarm calling to Monsieur Raoul to escape, as your husband had just returned. Lisette was right, you can be nothing less than the devil, said the Countess with a sinister laugh, and I think we shall be able to do business together.... Finish your account. Then you and your maid together pushed Monsieur Raoul, who resisted, into the dressing-room; Lisette forced him along the corridors and through two or three rooms; they then went down a winding staircase, in the wing of the Castle opposite to the one by which they had gone up. On arriving at the foot of the staircase, the fugitives found the door locked; then they ran into a kind of office where Lisette opened the window, which was about seven or eight feet above the ground. Monsieur Raoul leaped down out of this window, ran to the stable, found his horse still there, but hamstrung; then he swore that if he met the Count at any time he would hamstring him as the Count had hamstrung his horse, for he thought it a cowardly act to injure a poor beast so unnecessarily. Then he went on foot to the breach, climbed it, and found the Count awaiting him outside the park, with his sword drawn. The Baron had his hunting-knife with him; he drew it, and the duel began. Was the Count alone? Wait ... the Count appeared to be alone; after the fourth or fifth pass the Count was wounded in the shoulder, and sank on one knee, crying: help, Lestocq! Then the Baron remembered his oath, and hamstrung the Count as he had hamstrung the horse; but as the Baron rose, Lestocq drove his knife into his back; it passed under the shoulder blade and out through the chest. I need not tell you where ... you kissed the wound yourself. And after that? The Count and his huntsman returned to the Castle, leaving the Baron lying helpless; when the latter came to, he made signs to some passing peasants, who put him on a litter, and bore him away, with the intention of taking him to Villers-Cotterets; but he was in such pain, that they could not carry him farther than Puiseux; there they laid him on the bed where you found him, and on which he breathed his last a second after the half hour after nine in the evening. The Countess rose, and without speaking, went to her jewel-case and took out the pearls she had worn two nights before. She handed them to Thibault. What are they for? he asked. Take them, said the Countess, they are worth fifty thousand livres. Are you still anxious for revenge? Yes, replied the Countess. Revenge will cost more than that. How much will it cost? Wait for me to-morrow night, said Thibault, and I will tell you. Where shall I await you? asked the Countess. Here, said Thibault, with the leer of a wild animal. I will await you here, said the Countess. Till to-morrow then. Till to-morrow. Thibault went out. The Countess went and replaced the pearls in her dressing case; lifted up a false bottom, and drew from underneath it a small bottle containing an opal-coloured liquid, and a little dagger with a jewelled handle and case, and a blade inlaid with gold. She hid both beneath her pillow, knelt at her prie-dieu, and, her prayer finished, threw herself dressed on to her bed.... CHAPTER XX TRUE TO TRYST On quitting the Countess s room, Thibault had left the castle by the way which he had described to her, and soon found himself safe beyond its walls and outside the park. And now, for the first time in his life, Thibault had really nowhere to go. His hut was burnt, he was without a friend, and like Cain, he was a wanderer on the face of the earth. He turned to the unfailing shelter of the forest, and there made his way to the lower end of Chavigny; as the day was breaking he came across a solitary house, and asked if he could buy some bread. The woman belonging to it, her husband being away, gave him some, but refused to receive payment for it; his appearance frightened her. Having now food sufficient for the day, Thibault returned to the forest, with the intention of spending his time till evening in a part which he knew between Fleury and Longpont, where the trees were especially thick and tall. As he was looking for a resting place behind a rock, his eye was attracted by a shining object lying at the bottom of a slope, and his curiosity led him to climb down and see what it was. The shining object was the silver badge belonging to a huntsman s shoulder-belt; the shoulder-belt was slung round the neck of a dead body, or rather of a skeleton, for the flesh had been entirely eaten off the bones, which were as clean as if prepared for an anatomist s study or a painter s studio. The skeleton looked as if it had only lain there since the preceding night. Ah! ah! said Thibault, this is probably the work of my friends, the wolves; they evidently profited by the permission which I gave them. Curious to know if possible who the victim was, he examined it more closely; his curiosity was soon satisfied, for the badge, which the wolves had no doubt rejected as less easily digestible than the rest, was lying on the chest of the skeleton, like a ticket on a bale of goods. J. B. LESTOCQ, Head Keeper to the Comte de Mont-Gobert. Well done! laughed Thibault, here is one at least who did not live long to enjoy the result of his murderous act. Then, contracting his brow, he muttered to himself, in a low voice, and this time without laughing: Is there perhaps, after all, what people call a Providence? Lestocq s death was not difficult to account for. He had probably been executing some order for his master that night, and on the road between Mont-Gobert and Longpont, had been attacked by wolves. He had defended himself with the same knife with which he had wounded the Baron, for Thibault found the knife a few paces off, at a spot where the ground showed traces of a severe struggle; at last, being disarmed, the ferocious beasts had dragged him into the hollow, and there devoured him. Thibault was becoming so indifferent to everything that he felt neither pleasure nor regret, neither satisfaction nor remorse, at Lestocq s death; all he thought was, that it simplified matters for the Countess, as she would now only have her husband upon whom she need revenge herself. Then he went and found a place where the rocks afforded him the best shelter from the wind, and prepared to spend his day there in peace. Towards mid-day, he heard the horn of the Lord of Vez, and the cry of his hounds; the mighty huntsman was after game, but the chase did not pass near enough to Thibault to disturb him. At last the night came. At nine o clock Thibault rose and set out for the Castle of Mont-Gobert. He found the breach, followed the path he knew, and came to the little hut where Lisette had been awaiting him on the night when he had come in the guise of Raoul. The poor girl was there this evening, but alarmed and trembling. Thibault wished to carry out the old traditions and tried to kiss her, but she sprang back with visible signs of fear. Do not touch me, she said, or I shall call out. Oh, indeed! my pretty one, said Thibault, you were not so sour-tempered the other day with the Baron Raoul. May be not, said the girl, but a great many things have happened since the other day. And many more to happen still, said Thibault in a lively tone. I think, said the waiting-maid in a mournful voice, that the climax is already reached. Then, as she went on in front. If you wish to come, she added, follow me. Thibault followed her; Lisette, without the slightest effort at concealment, walked straight across the open space that lay between the trees and the castle. You are courageous to-day, said Thibault, and supposing some one were to see us.... There is no fear now, she answered, the eyes that could have seen us are all closed. Although he did not understand what the young girl meant by these words, the tone in which they were spoken made Thibault shiver. He continued to follow her in silence as they went up the winding-stairs to the first floor. As Lisette laid her hand on the key of the door, Thibault suddenly stopped her. Something in the silence and solitude of the castle filled him with fear; it seemed as if a curse might have fallen on the place. Where are we going? said Thibault, scarcely knowing himself what he said. You know well enough, surely. Into the Countess s room? Into the Countess s room. She is waiting for me? She is waiting for you. And Lisette opened the door. Go in, she said. Thibault went in, and Lisette shut the door behind him and waited outside. It was the same exquisite room, lighted in the same manner, filled with the same sweet scent. Thibault looked round for the Countess, he expected to see her appear at the dressing-room door, but the door remained closed. Not a sound was to be heard in the room, except the ticking of the S vres clock, and the beating of Thibault s heart. He began to look about him with a feeling of shuddering fear for which he could not account; then his eyes fell on the bed; the Countess was lying asleep upon it. In her hair were the same diamond pins, round her neck the same pearls; she was dressed in the same pink silk dressing-gown, and had on the same little slippers of cloth of silver which she had worn to receive the Baron Raoul.

ever

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thus within its cell. But he could still hear the priest, who not only spoke to him, but endeavoured by shaking him to arouse him from his lethargy. Thibault found this very fatiguing, and it was lucky for the priest that the wounded man, just now, had no superhuman power, for he inwardly sent the good man to the devil, many times over. Before long it seemed to him that some sort of hot burning pan was being inserted under the soles of his feet, his loins, his head; his blood began to circulate, then to boil, like water over a fire. His ideas became confused, his clenched jaws opened; his tongue which had been bound became loosened; some disconnected words escaped him. Ah, ah! he thought to himself, this no doubt is what the good doctor spoke about as delirium; and, for the while at least, this was his last lucid idea. His whole life--and his life had really only existed since his first acquaintance with the black wolf--passed before him. He saw himself following, and failing to hit the buck; saw himself tied to the oak-tree, and the blows of the strap falling on him; saw himself and the black wolf drawing up their compact; saw himself trying to pass the devil s ring over Agnelette s finger; saw himself trying to pull out the red hairs, which now covered a third of his head. Then he saw himself on his way to pay court to the pretty Madame Polet of the mill, meeting Landry, and getting rid of his rival; pursued by the farm servants, and followed by his wolves. He saw himself making the acquaintance of Madame Magloire, hunting for her, eating his share of the game, hiding behind the curtains, discovered by Ma tre Magloire, flouted by the Baron of Vez, turned out by all three. Again he saw the hollow tree, with his wolves couching around it and the owls perched on its branches, and heard the sounds of the approaching violins and hautboy and saw himself looking, as Agnelette and the happy wedding party went by. He saw himself the victim of angry jealousy, endeavouring to fight against it by the help of drink, and across his troubled brain came the recollection of Fran ois, of Champagne, and the Inn-keeper; he heard the galloping of Baron Raoul s horse, and he felt himself knocked down and rolling in the muddy road. Then he ceased to see himself as Thibault; in his stead arose the figure of the handsome young rider whose form he had taken for a while. Once more he was kissing Lisette, once more his lips were touching the Countess s hand; then he was wanting to escape, but he found himself at a cross-road where three ways only met, and each of these was guarded by one of his victims: the first, by the spectre of a drowned man, that was Marcotte; the second, by a young man dying of fever on a hospital bed, that was Landry; the third, by a wounded man, dragging himself along on one knee, and trying in vain to stand up on his mutilated leg, that was the Comte de Mont-Gobert. He fancied that as all these things passed before him, he told the history of them one by one, and that the priest, as he listened to this strange confession, looked more like a dying man, was paler and more trembling than the man whose confession he was listening to; that he wanted to give him absolution, but that he, Thibault, pushed him away, shaking his head, and that he cried out with a terrible laugh: I want no absolution! I am damned! damned! damned! And in the midst of all this hallucination, this delirious madness, the spirit of Thibault could hear the priest s clock striking the hours, and as they struck he counted them. Only this clock seemed to have grown to gigantic proportions and the face of it was the blue vault of heaven, and the numbers on it were flames; and the clock was called eternity, and the monstrous pendulum, as it swung backwards and forwards called out in turn at every beat: Never! For ever! And so he lay and heard the long hours of the day pass one by one; and then at last the clock struck nine. At half past nine, he, Thibault, would have been Raoul, and Raoul would have been Thibault, for just four and twenty hours. As the last stroke of the hour died away, Thibault felt the fever passing from him, it was succeeded by a sensation of coldness, which almost amounted to shivering. He opened his eyes, all trembling with cold, and saw the priest at the foot of the bed saying the prayers for the dying, and the hands of the actual clock pointing to a quarter past nine. His senses had become so acute, that, imperceptible as was their double movement, he could yet see both the larger and smaller one slowly creeping along; they were gradually nearing the critical hour; half past nine! Although the face of the clock was in darkness, it seemed illuminated by some inward light. As the minute hand approached the number 6, a spasm becoming every instant more and more violent shook the dying man; his feet were like ice, and the numbness slowly, but steadily, mounted from the feet to the knees, from the knees to the thighs, from the thighs to the lower part of the body. The sweat was running down his forehead, but he had no strength to wipe it away, nor even to ask to have it done. It was a sweat of agony which he knew every moment might be the sweat of death. All kinds of strange shapes, which had nothing of the human about them, floated before his eyes; the light faded away; wings as of bats seemed to lift his body and carry it into some twilight region, which was neither life nor death, but seemed a part of both. Then the twilight itself grew darker and darker; his eyes closed, and like a blind man stumbling in the dark, his heavy wings seemed to flap against strange and unknown things. After that he sank away into unfathomable depths, into bottomless abysses, but still he heard the sound of a bell. The bell rang once, and scarcely had it ceased to vibrate when the dying man uttered a cry. The priest rose and went to the side of the bed; with that cry the Baron Raoul had breathed his last: it was exactly one second after the half hour after nine. CHAPTER XIX THE DEAD AND THE LIVING At the same moment that the trembling soul of the young Baron passed away, Thibault, awaking as if from an agitated sleep full of terrible dreams, sat up in his bed. He was surrounded by fire, every corner of his hut was in flames; at first he thought it was a continuation of his nightmare, but then he heard cries of, Death to the wizard! death to the sorcerer! death to the were-wolf! and he understood that some terrible attack was being made upon him. The flames came nearer, they reached the bed, he felt their heat upon him; a few seconds more and he would be burned alive in the midst of the flaming pile. Thibault leaped from his bed, seized his boar-spear, and dashed out of the back door of his hut. No sooner did his enemies see him rush through the fire and emerge from the smoke than their cries of death to him! death! were redoubled. One or two shots were fired at him; Thibault heard the bullets whizz past; those who shot at him wore the livery of the Grand Master, and Thibault recalled the menace of the lord of Vez, uttered against him a few days before. He was then beyond the pale of the law; he could be smoked out of his hole like a fox; he could be shot down like a buck. Luckily for Thibault, not one of the bullets struck him, and as the circle of fire made by the burning hut was not a large one, he was soon safely beyond it, and once again in shelter of the vast and gloomy forest, where, had it not been for the cries of the menials who were burning down his house, the silence would have been as complete as the darkness. He sat down at the foot of a tree and buried his head in his hands. The events of the last forty-eight hours had succeeded each other with such rapidity, that there was no lack of matter to serve as subjects of reflection to the shoe-maker. The twenty-four hours, during which he had lived another existence than his own, seemed to him like a dream, so much so, that he would not have dared to take his oath that all this recent affair between the Baron, and the Countess Jane, and the Comte de Mont-Gobert had really taken place. The church clock of Oigny struck ten, and he lifted his head. Ten o clock! and only half-an-hour before he had been still in the body of the Baron Raoul, as he lay dying in the house of the Cur of Puiseux. Ah! he exclaimed I must find out for certain what has happened! It is not quite three miles to Puiseux and I shall be there in half-an-hour; I should like to ascertain if the Baron is really dead. A melancholy howl made answer to his words; he looked round; his faithful body-guards were back again; he had his pack about him once more. Come, wolves! come, my only friends! he cried, let us be off! And he started with them across the forest in the direction of Puiseux. The huntsmen of the Lord of Vez, who were poking up the remaining embers of the ruined hut, saw a man pass, as in a vision, running at the head of a dozen or more wolves. They crossed themselves, and became more convinced than ever that Thibault was a wizard. And anybody else who had seen Thibault, flying along as swiftly as his swiftest wolf, and covering the ground between Oigny and Puiseux in less than a quarter of an hour, would certainly have thought so too. He stopped at the entrance to the village, and turning to his wolves, he said: Friend wolves, I have no further need of you to-night, and indeed, I wish to be alone. Amuse yourselves with the stables in the neighbourhood, I give you leave to do just what you like; and if you chance to come across one of those two-footed animals, called men, forget, friend wolves, that they claim to be made in the image of their Creator, and never fear to satisfy your appetite. Whereupon the wolves rushed off in different directions, uttering howls of joy, while Thibault went on into the village. The Cur s house adjoined the church, and Thibault made a circuit so as to avoid passing in front of the Cross. When he reached the presbytery, he looked in through one of the windows, and there he saw a bed with a lighted wax candle beside it; and over the bed itself was spread a sheet, and beneath the sheet could be seen the outlines of a figure lying rigid in death. There appeared to be no one in the house; the priest had no doubt gone to give notice of the death to the village authorities. Thibault went inside, and called the priest, but no one answered. He walked up to the bed, there could be no mistake about the body under the sheet being that of a dead man; he lifted the sheet, there could be no mistaking that the dead body was that of Raoul de Vauparfond. On his face lay the still, unearthly beauty which is born of eternity. His features, which in life had been somewhat too feminine for those of a man, had now assumed the sombre grandeur of death. At the first glance you might have thought he only slept; but on gazing longer you recognised in that immovable calm something more profound than sleep. The presence of one who carries a sickle for sceptre, and wears a shroud for mantle was unmistakeable, and you knew King Death was there. Thibault had left the door open, and he heard the sound of light footsteps approaching; at the back of the alcove hung a serge curtain, which masked a door by which he could retreat, if necessary, and he now went and placed himself behind it. A woman dressed in black, and covered with a black veil, paused in some hesitation at the door. The head of another woman passed in front of her s and looked carefully round the room. I think it is safe for Madame to go in; I see no one about, and besides, I will keep watch. The woman in black went in, walked slowly towards the bed, stopped a moment to wipe the perspiration from her forehead, then, without further hesitation, lifted the sheet which Thibault had thrown back over the face of the dead man; Thibault then saw that it was the Countess. Alas! she said, what they told me was true! Then she fell on her knees, praying and sobbing. Her prayer being ended, she rose again, kissed the pale forehead of the dead, and the blue marks of the wound through which the soul had fled. O my well-beloved, my Raoul; she murmured, who will tell me the name of your murderer? who will help me to avenge your death? As the Countess finished speaking, she gave a cry and started back; she seemed to hear a voice that answered, I will! and something had shaken the green serge curtain. The Countess however was no chicken-hearted woman; she took the candle that was burning at the head of the bed and went and looked behind the curtain; but no creature was to be seen, a closed door was all that met her eye. She put back the candle, took a pair of gold scissors from a little pocket case, cut off a curl of the dead man s hair, placed the curl in a black velvet sachet which hung over her heart, gave one last kiss to her dead lover, laid the sheet over his face, and left the house. Just as she was crossing the threshold, she met the priest, and drawing back, drew her veil more closely over her face. Who are you? asked the priest. I am Grief, she answered, and the priest made way for her to pass. The Countess and her attendant had come on foot, and were returning in the same manner, for the distance between Puiseux and Mont-Gobert was not much more than half-a-mile. When about half way along their road, a man, who had been hiding behind a willow tree, stepped forward and barred their further passage. Lisette screamed, but the Countess, without the least sign of fear, went up to the man, and asked: Who are you? The man who answered I will just now, when you were asking who would denounce the murderer to you. And you can help me to revenge myself on him? Whenever you like. At once? We cannot talk here very well. Where can we find a better place? In your own room for one. We must not enter the castle together. No; but I can go through the breach in the park wall: Mademoiselle Lisette can wait for me in the hut where Monsieur Raoul used to leave his horse, she can take me up the winding-stair and into your room. If you should be in your dressing-room, I will wait for you, as Monsieur Raoul waited the night before last. The two women shuddered from head to foot. Who are you to know all these details? asked the Countess. I will tell you when the time comes for me to tell you. The Countess hesitated a moment, then, recovering her resolution, she said: Very well then; come through the breach; Lisette will wait for you in the stable. Oh! Madame, cried the maid, I shall never dare to go and bring that man to you! I will go myself then, said the Countess. Well said! put in Thibault, there spoke a woman worth calling one! And so saying he slid down into a kind of ravine beside the road, and disappeared. Lisette very nearly fainted. Lean on me, Mademoiselle, said the Countess, and let us walk on; I am anxious to hear what this man has to say to me. The two women entered the castle by way of the farm; no one had seen them go out, and no one saw them return. On reaching her room, the Countess waited for Lisette to bring up the stranger. Ten minutes had elapsed when the maid hurried in with a pale face. Ah! Madame, she said, there was no need for me to go to fetch him. What do you mean? asked the Countess. Because he knew his way up as well as I did! And oh! Madame! if you knew what he said to me! That man is the devil, Madame, I feel sure! Show him in, said the Countess. I am here! said Thibault. You can leave us now, my girl, said the Countess to Lisette. The latter quitted the room and the Countess remained alone with Thibault. Thibault s appearance was not one to inspire confidence. He gave the impression of a man who had once and for all made up his mind, but it was also easy to see that it was for no good purpose; a Satanic smile played about his mouth, and there was a demoniacal light in his eyes. He had made no attempt to hide his red hairs, but had left them defiantly uncovered, and they hung over his forehead like a plume of flame. But still the Countess looked him full in the face without changing colour. My maid says that you know the way to my room; have you ever been here before? Yes, Madame, once. And when was that? The day before yesterday. At what time? From half-past ten till half-past twelve at night. The Countess looked steadily at him and said: That is not true. Would you like me to tell you what took place? During the time you mention? During the time I mention. Say on, replied the Countess, laconically. Thibault was equally laconic. Monsieur Raoul came in by that door, he said, pointing to the one leading into the corridor, and Lisette left him here alone. You entered the room by that one, he continued, indicating the dressing-room door, and you found him on his knees. Your hair was unbound, only fastened back by three diamond pins, you wore a pink silk dressing-gown, trimmed with lace, pink silk stockings, cloth-of-silver slippers and a chain of pearls round your neck. You describe my dress exactly, said the Countess, continue. You tried to pick a quarrel with Monsieur Raoul, first because he loitered in the corridors to kiss your waiting-maid; secondly, because someone had met him late at night on the road between Erneville and Villers-Cotterets; thirdly, because, at the ball given at the Castle, at which you yourself were not present, he danced four times with Madame de Bonneuil. Continue. In answer to your accusations, your lover made excuses for himself, some good, some bad; you, however, were satisfied with them for you were just forgiving him when Lisette rushed in full of alarm calling to Monsieur Raoul to escape, as your husband had just returned. Lisette was right, you can be nothing less than the devil, said the Countess with a sinister laugh, and I think we shall be able to do business together.... Finish your account. Then you and your maid together pushed Monsieur Raoul, who resisted, into the dressing-room; Lisette forced him along the corridors and through two or three rooms; they then went down a winding staircase, in the wing of the Castle opposite to the one by which they had gone up. On arriving at the foot of the staircase, the fugitives found the door locked; then they ran into a kind of office where Lisette opened the window, which was about seven or eight feet above the ground. Monsieur Raoul leaped down out of this window, ran to the stable, found his horse still there, but hamstrung; then he swore that if he met the Count at any time he would hamstring him as the Count had hamstrung his horse, for he thought it a cowardly act to injure a poor beast so unnecessarily. Then he went on foot to the breach, climbed it, and found the Count awaiting him outside the park, with his sword drawn. The Baron had his hunting-knife with him; he drew it, and the duel began. Was the Count alone? Wait ... the Count appeared to be alone; after the fourth or fifth pass the Count was wounded in the shoulder, and sank on one knee, crying: help, Lestocq! Then the Baron remembered his oath, and hamstrung the Count as he had hamstrung the horse; but as the Baron rose, Lestocq drove his knife into his back; it passed under the shoulder blade and out through the chest. I need not tell you where ... you kissed the wound yourself. And after that? The Count and his huntsman returned to the Castle, leaving the Baron lying helpless; when the latter came to, he made signs to some passing peasants, who put him on a litter, and bore him away, with the intention of taking him to Villers-Cotterets; but he was in such pain, that they could not carry him farther than Puiseux; there they laid him on the bed where you found him, and on which he breathed his last a second after the half hour after nine in the evening. The Countess rose, and without speaking, went to her jewel-case and took out the pearls she had worn two nights before. She handed them to Thibault. What are they for? he asked. Take them, said the Countess, they are worth fifty thousand livres. Are you still anxious for revenge? Yes, replied the Countess. Revenge will cost more than that. How much will it cost? Wait for me to-morrow night, said Thibault, and I will tell you. Where shall I await you? asked the Countess. Here, said Thibault, with the leer of a wild animal. I will await you here, said the Countess. Till to-morrow then. Till to-morrow. Thibault went out. The Countess went and replaced the pearls in her dressing case; lifted up a false bottom, and drew from underneath it a small bottle containing an opal-coloured liquid, and a little dagger with a jewelled handle and case, and a blade inlaid with gold. She hid both beneath her pillow, knelt at her prie-dieu, and, her prayer finished, threw herself dressed on to her bed.... CHAPTER XX TRUE TO TRYST On quitting the Countess s room, Thibault had left the castle by the way which he had described to her, and soon found himself safe beyond its walls and outside the park. And now, for the first time in his life, Thibault had really nowhere to go. His hut was burnt, he was without a friend, and like Cain, he was a wanderer on the face of the earth. He turned to the unfailing shelter of the forest, and there made his way to the lower end of Chavigny; as the day was breaking he came across a solitary house, and asked if he could buy some bread. The woman belonging to it, her husband being away, gave him some, but refused to receive payment for it; his appearance frightened her. Having now food sufficient for the day, Thibault returned to the forest, with the intention of spending his time till evening in a part which he knew between Fleury and Longpont, where the trees were especially thick and tall. As he was looking for a resting place behind a rock, his eye was attracted by a shining object lying at the bottom of a slope, and his curiosity led him to climb down and see what it was. The shining object was the silver badge belonging to a huntsman s shoulder-belt; the shoulder-belt was slung round the neck of a dead body, or rather of a skeleton, for the flesh had been entirely eaten off the bones, which were as clean as if prepared for an anatomist s study or a painter s studio. The skeleton looked as if it had only lain there since the preceding night. Ah! ah! said Thibault, this is probably the work of my friends, the wolves; they evidently profited by the permission which I gave them. Curious to know if possible who the victim was, he examined it more closely; his curiosity was soon satisfied, for the badge, which the wolves had no doubt rejected as less easily digestible than the rest, was lying on the chest of the skeleton, like a ticket on a bale of goods. J. B. LESTOCQ, Head Keeper to the Comte de Mont-Gobert. Well done! laughed Thibault, here is one at least who did not live long to enjoy the result of his murderous act. Then, contracting his brow, he muttered to himself, in a low voice, and this time without laughing: Is there perhaps, after all, what people call a Providence? Lestocq s death was not difficult to account for. He had probably been executing some order for his master that night, and on the road between Mont-Gobert and Longpont, had been attacked by wolves. He had defended himself with the same knife with which he had wounded the Baron, for Thibault found the knife a few paces off, at a spot where the ground showed traces of a severe struggle; at last, being disarmed, the ferocious beasts had dragged him into the hollow, and there devoured him. Thibault was becoming so indifferent to everything that he felt neither pleasure nor regret, neither satisfaction nor remorse, at Lestocq s death; all he thought was, that it simplified matters for the Countess, as she would now only have her husband upon whom she need revenge herself. Then he went and found a place where the rocks afforded him the best shelter from the wind, and prepared to spend his day there in peace. Towards mid-day, he heard the horn of the Lord of Vez, and the cry of his hounds; the mighty huntsman was after game, but the chase did not pass near enough to Thibault to disturb him. At last the night came. At nine o clock Thibault rose and set out for the Castle of Mont-Gobert. He found the breach, followed the path he knew, and came to the little hut where Lisette had been awaiting him on the night when he had come in the guise of Raoul. The poor girl was there this evening, but alarmed and trembling. Thibault wished to carry out the old traditions and tried to kiss her, but she sprang back with visible signs of fear. Do not touch me, she said, or I shall call out. Oh, indeed! my pretty one, said Thibault, you were not so sour-tempered the other day with the Baron Raoul. May be not, said the girl, but a great many things have happened since the other day. And many more to happen still, said Thibault in a lively tone. I think, said the waiting-maid in a mournful voice, that the climax is already reached. Then, as she went on in front. If you wish to come, she added, follow me. Thibault followed her; Lisette, without the slightest effort at concealment, walked straight across the open space that lay between the trees and the castle. You are courageous to-day, said Thibault, and supposing some one were to see us.... There is no fear now, she answered, the eyes that could have seen us are all closed. Although he did not understand what the young girl meant by these words, the tone in which they were spoken made Thibault shiver. He continued to follow her in silence as they went up the winding-stairs to the first floor. As Lisette laid her hand on the key of the door, Thibault suddenly stopped her. Something in the silence and solitude of the castle filled him with fear; it seemed as if a curse might have fallen on the place. Where are we going? said Thibault, scarcely knowing himself what he said. You know well enough, surely. Into the Countess s room? Into the Countess s room. She is waiting for me? She is waiting for you. And Lisette opened the door. Go in, she said. Thibault went in, and Lisette shut the door behind him and waited outside. It was the same exquisite room, lighted in the same manner, filled with the same sweet scent. Thibault looked round for the Countess, he expected to see her appear at the dressing-room door, but the door remained closed. Not a sound was to be heard in the room, except the ticking of the S vres clock, and the beating of Thibault s heart. He began to look about him with a feeling of shuddering fear for which he could not account; then his eyes fell on the bed; the Countess was lying asleep upon it. In her hair were the same diamond pins, round her neck the same pearls; she was dressed in the same pink silk dressing-gown, and had on the same little slippers of cloth of silver which she had worn to receive the Baron Raoul.

eight

How many times the word 'eight' appears in the text?

thus within its cell. But he could still hear the priest, who not only spoke to him, but endeavoured by shaking him to arouse him from his lethargy. Thibault found this very fatiguing, and it was lucky for the priest that the wounded man, just now, had no superhuman power, for he inwardly sent the good man to the devil, many times over. Before long it seemed to him that some sort of hot burning pan was being inserted under the soles of his feet, his loins, his head; his blood began to circulate, then to boil, like water over a fire. His ideas became confused, his clenched jaws opened; his tongue which had been bound became loosened; some disconnected words escaped him. Ah, ah! he thought to himself, this no doubt is what the good doctor spoke about as delirium; and, for the while at least, this was his last lucid idea. His whole life--and his life had really only existed since his first acquaintance with the black wolf--passed before him. He saw himself following, and failing to hit the buck; saw himself tied to the oak-tree, and the blows of the strap falling on him; saw himself and the black wolf drawing up their compact; saw himself trying to pass the devil s ring over Agnelette s finger; saw himself trying to pull out the red hairs, which now covered a third of his head. Then he saw himself on his way to pay court to the pretty Madame Polet of the mill, meeting Landry, and getting rid of his rival; pursued by the farm servants, and followed by his wolves. He saw himself making the acquaintance of Madame Magloire, hunting for her, eating his share of the game, hiding behind the curtains, discovered by Ma tre Magloire, flouted by the Baron of Vez, turned out by all three. Again he saw the hollow tree, with his wolves couching around it and the owls perched on its branches, and heard the sounds of the approaching violins and hautboy and saw himself looking, as Agnelette and the happy wedding party went by. He saw himself the victim of angry jealousy, endeavouring to fight against it by the help of drink, and across his troubled brain came the recollection of Fran ois, of Champagne, and the Inn-keeper; he heard the galloping of Baron Raoul s horse, and he felt himself knocked down and rolling in the muddy road. Then he ceased to see himself as Thibault; in his stead arose the figure of the handsome young rider whose form he had taken for a while. Once more he was kissing Lisette, once more his lips were touching the Countess s hand; then he was wanting to escape, but he found himself at a cross-road where three ways only met, and each of these was guarded by one of his victims: the first, by the spectre of a drowned man, that was Marcotte; the second, by a young man dying of fever on a hospital bed, that was Landry; the third, by a wounded man, dragging himself along on one knee, and trying in vain to stand up on his mutilated leg, that was the Comte de Mont-Gobert. He fancied that as all these things passed before him, he told the history of them one by one, and that the priest, as he listened to this strange confession, looked more like a dying man, was paler and more trembling than the man whose confession he was listening to; that he wanted to give him absolution, but that he, Thibault, pushed him away, shaking his head, and that he cried out with a terrible laugh: I want no absolution! I am damned! damned! damned! And in the midst of all this hallucination, this delirious madness, the spirit of Thibault could hear the priest s clock striking the hours, and as they struck he counted them. Only this clock seemed to have grown to gigantic proportions and the face of it was the blue vault of heaven, and the numbers on it were flames; and the clock was called eternity, and the monstrous pendulum, as it swung backwards and forwards called out in turn at every beat: Never! For ever! And so he lay and heard the long hours of the day pass one by one; and then at last the clock struck nine. At half past nine, he, Thibault, would have been Raoul, and Raoul would have been Thibault, for just four and twenty hours. As the last stroke of the hour died away, Thibault felt the fever passing from him, it was succeeded by a sensation of coldness, which almost amounted to shivering. He opened his eyes, all trembling with cold, and saw the priest at the foot of the bed saying the prayers for the dying, and the hands of the actual clock pointing to a quarter past nine. His senses had become so acute, that, imperceptible as was their double movement, he could yet see both the larger and smaller one slowly creeping along; they were gradually nearing the critical hour; half past nine! Although the face of the clock was in darkness, it seemed illuminated by some inward light. As the minute hand approached the number 6, a spasm becoming every instant more and more violent shook the dying man; his feet were like ice, and the numbness slowly, but steadily, mounted from the feet to the knees, from the knees to the thighs, from the thighs to the lower part of the body. The sweat was running down his forehead, but he had no strength to wipe it away, nor even to ask to have it done. It was a sweat of agony which he knew every moment might be the sweat of death. All kinds of strange shapes, which had nothing of the human about them, floated before his eyes; the light faded away; wings as of bats seemed to lift his body and carry it into some twilight region, which was neither life nor death, but seemed a part of both. Then the twilight itself grew darker and darker; his eyes closed, and like a blind man stumbling in the dark, his heavy wings seemed to flap against strange and unknown things. After that he sank away into unfathomable depths, into bottomless abysses, but still he heard the sound of a bell. The bell rang once, and scarcely had it ceased to vibrate when the dying man uttered a cry. The priest rose and went to the side of the bed; with that cry the Baron Raoul had breathed his last: it was exactly one second after the half hour after nine. CHAPTER XIX THE DEAD AND THE LIVING At the same moment that the trembling soul of the young Baron passed away, Thibault, awaking as if from an agitated sleep full of terrible dreams, sat up in his bed. He was surrounded by fire, every corner of his hut was in flames; at first he thought it was a continuation of his nightmare, but then he heard cries of, Death to the wizard! death to the sorcerer! death to the were-wolf! and he understood that some terrible attack was being made upon him. The flames came nearer, they reached the bed, he felt their heat upon him; a few seconds more and he would be burned alive in the midst of the flaming pile. Thibault leaped from his bed, seized his boar-spear, and dashed out of the back door of his hut. No sooner did his enemies see him rush through the fire and emerge from the smoke than their cries of death to him! death! were redoubled. One or two shots were fired at him; Thibault heard the bullets whizz past; those who shot at him wore the livery of the Grand Master, and Thibault recalled the menace of the lord of Vez, uttered against him a few days before. He was then beyond the pale of the law; he could be smoked out of his hole like a fox; he could be shot down like a buck. Luckily for Thibault, not one of the bullets struck him, and as the circle of fire made by the burning hut was not a large one, he was soon safely beyond it, and once again in shelter of the vast and gloomy forest, where, had it not been for the cries of the menials who were burning down his house, the silence would have been as complete as the darkness. He sat down at the foot of a tree and buried his head in his hands. The events of the last forty-eight hours had succeeded each other with such rapidity, that there was no lack of matter to serve as subjects of reflection to the shoe-maker. The twenty-four hours, during which he had lived another existence than his own, seemed to him like a dream, so much so, that he would not have dared to take his oath that all this recent affair between the Baron, and the Countess Jane, and the Comte de Mont-Gobert had really taken place. The church clock of Oigny struck ten, and he lifted his head. Ten o clock! and only half-an-hour before he had been still in the body of the Baron Raoul, as he lay dying in the house of the Cur of Puiseux. Ah! he exclaimed I must find out for certain what has happened! It is not quite three miles to Puiseux and I shall be there in half-an-hour; I should like to ascertain if the Baron is really dead. A melancholy howl made answer to his words; he looked round; his faithful body-guards were back again; he had his pack about him once more. Come, wolves! come, my only friends! he cried, let us be off! And he started with them across the forest in the direction of Puiseux. The huntsmen of the Lord of Vez, who were poking up the remaining embers of the ruined hut, saw a man pass, as in a vision, running at the head of a dozen or more wolves. They crossed themselves, and became more convinced than ever that Thibault was a wizard. And anybody else who had seen Thibault, flying along as swiftly as his swiftest wolf, and covering the ground between Oigny and Puiseux in less than a quarter of an hour, would certainly have thought so too. He stopped at the entrance to the village, and turning to his wolves, he said: Friend wolves, I have no further need of you to-night, and indeed, I wish to be alone. Amuse yourselves with the stables in the neighbourhood, I give you leave to do just what you like; and if you chance to come across one of those two-footed animals, called men, forget, friend wolves, that they claim to be made in the image of their Creator, and never fear to satisfy your appetite. Whereupon the wolves rushed off in different directions, uttering howls of joy, while Thibault went on into the village. The Cur s house adjoined the church, and Thibault made a circuit so as to avoid passing in front of the Cross. When he reached the presbytery, he looked in through one of the windows, and there he saw a bed with a lighted wax candle beside it; and over the bed itself was spread a sheet, and beneath the sheet could be seen the outlines of a figure lying rigid in death. There appeared to be no one in the house; the priest had no doubt gone to give notice of the death to the village authorities. Thibault went inside, and called the priest, but no one answered. He walked up to the bed, there could be no mistake about the body under the sheet being that of a dead man; he lifted the sheet, there could be no mistaking that the dead body was that of Raoul de Vauparfond. On his face lay the still, unearthly beauty which is born of eternity. His features, which in life had been somewhat too feminine for those of a man, had now assumed the sombre grandeur of death. At the first glance you might have thought he only slept; but on gazing longer you recognised in that immovable calm something more profound than sleep. The presence of one who carries a sickle for sceptre, and wears a shroud for mantle was unmistakeable, and you knew King Death was there. Thibault had left the door open, and he heard the sound of light footsteps approaching; at the back of the alcove hung a serge curtain, which masked a door by which he could retreat, if necessary, and he now went and placed himself behind it. A woman dressed in black, and covered with a black veil, paused in some hesitation at the door. The head of another woman passed in front of her s and looked carefully round the room. I think it is safe for Madame to go in; I see no one about, and besides, I will keep watch. The woman in black went in, walked slowly towards the bed, stopped a moment to wipe the perspiration from her forehead, then, without further hesitation, lifted the sheet which Thibault had thrown back over the face of the dead man; Thibault then saw that it was the Countess. Alas! she said, what they told me was true! Then she fell on her knees, praying and sobbing. Her prayer being ended, she rose again, kissed the pale forehead of the dead, and the blue marks of the wound through which the soul had fled. O my well-beloved, my Raoul; she murmured, who will tell me the name of your murderer? who will help me to avenge your death? As the Countess finished speaking, she gave a cry and started back; she seemed to hear a voice that answered, I will! and something had shaken the green serge curtain. The Countess however was no chicken-hearted woman; she took the candle that was burning at the head of the bed and went and looked behind the curtain; but no creature was to be seen, a closed door was all that met her eye. She put back the candle, took a pair of gold scissors from a little pocket case, cut off a curl of the dead man s hair, placed the curl in a black velvet sachet which hung over her heart, gave one last kiss to her dead lover, laid the sheet over his face, and left the house. Just as she was crossing the threshold, she met the priest, and drawing back, drew her veil more closely over her face. Who are you? asked the priest. I am Grief, she answered, and the priest made way for her to pass. The Countess and her attendant had come on foot, and were returning in the same manner, for the distance between Puiseux and Mont-Gobert was not much more than half-a-mile. When about half way along their road, a man, who had been hiding behind a willow tree, stepped forward and barred their further passage. Lisette screamed, but the Countess, without the least sign of fear, went up to the man, and asked: Who are you? The man who answered I will just now, when you were asking who would denounce the murderer to you. And you can help me to revenge myself on him? Whenever you like. At once? We cannot talk here very well. Where can we find a better place? In your own room for one. We must not enter the castle together. No; but I can go through the breach in the park wall: Mademoiselle Lisette can wait for me in the hut where Monsieur Raoul used to leave his horse, she can take me up the winding-stair and into your room. If you should be in your dressing-room, I will wait for you, as Monsieur Raoul waited the night before last. The two women shuddered from head to foot. Who are you to know all these details? asked the Countess. I will tell you when the time comes for me to tell you. The Countess hesitated a moment, then, recovering her resolution, she said: Very well then; come through the breach; Lisette will wait for you in the stable. Oh! Madame, cried the maid, I shall never dare to go and bring that man to you! I will go myself then, said the Countess. Well said! put in Thibault, there spoke a woman worth calling one! And so saying he slid down into a kind of ravine beside the road, and disappeared. Lisette very nearly fainted. Lean on me, Mademoiselle, said the Countess, and let us walk on; I am anxious to hear what this man has to say to me. The two women entered the castle by way of the farm; no one had seen them go out, and no one saw them return. On reaching her room, the Countess waited for Lisette to bring up the stranger. Ten minutes had elapsed when the maid hurried in with a pale face. Ah! Madame, she said, there was no need for me to go to fetch him. What do you mean? asked the Countess. Because he knew his way up as well as I did! And oh! Madame! if you knew what he said to me! That man is the devil, Madame, I feel sure! Show him in, said the Countess. I am here! said Thibault. You can leave us now, my girl, said the Countess to Lisette. The latter quitted the room and the Countess remained alone with Thibault. Thibault s appearance was not one to inspire confidence. He gave the impression of a man who had once and for all made up his mind, but it was also easy to see that it was for no good purpose; a Satanic smile played about his mouth, and there was a demoniacal light in his eyes. He had made no attempt to hide his red hairs, but had left them defiantly uncovered, and they hung over his forehead like a plume of flame. But still the Countess looked him full in the face without changing colour. My maid says that you know the way to my room; have you ever been here before? Yes, Madame, once. And when was that? The day before yesterday. At what time? From half-past ten till half-past twelve at night. The Countess looked steadily at him and said: That is not true. Would you like me to tell you what took place? During the time you mention? During the time I mention. Say on, replied the Countess, laconically. Thibault was equally laconic. Monsieur Raoul came in by that door, he said, pointing to the one leading into the corridor, and Lisette left him here alone. You entered the room by that one, he continued, indicating the dressing-room door, and you found him on his knees. Your hair was unbound, only fastened back by three diamond pins, you wore a pink silk dressing-gown, trimmed with lace, pink silk stockings, cloth-of-silver slippers and a chain of pearls round your neck. You describe my dress exactly, said the Countess, continue. You tried to pick a quarrel with Monsieur Raoul, first because he loitered in the corridors to kiss your waiting-maid; secondly, because someone had met him late at night on the road between Erneville and Villers-Cotterets; thirdly, because, at the ball given at the Castle, at which you yourself were not present, he danced four times with Madame de Bonneuil. Continue. In answer to your accusations, your lover made excuses for himself, some good, some bad; you, however, were satisfied with them for you were just forgiving him when Lisette rushed in full of alarm calling to Monsieur Raoul to escape, as your husband had just returned. Lisette was right, you can be nothing less than the devil, said the Countess with a sinister laugh, and I think we shall be able to do business together.... Finish your account. Then you and your maid together pushed Monsieur Raoul, who resisted, into the dressing-room; Lisette forced him along the corridors and through two or three rooms; they then went down a winding staircase, in the wing of the Castle opposite to the one by which they had gone up. On arriving at the foot of the staircase, the fugitives found the door locked; then they ran into a kind of office where Lisette opened the window, which was about seven or eight feet above the ground. Monsieur Raoul leaped down out of this window, ran to the stable, found his horse still there, but hamstrung; then he swore that if he met the Count at any time he would hamstring him as the Count had hamstrung his horse, for he thought it a cowardly act to injure a poor beast so unnecessarily. Then he went on foot to the breach, climbed it, and found the Count awaiting him outside the park, with his sword drawn. The Baron had his hunting-knife with him; he drew it, and the duel began. Was the Count alone? Wait ... the Count appeared to be alone; after the fourth or fifth pass the Count was wounded in the shoulder, and sank on one knee, crying: help, Lestocq! Then the Baron remembered his oath, and hamstrung the Count as he had hamstrung the horse; but as the Baron rose, Lestocq drove his knife into his back; it passed under the shoulder blade and out through the chest. I need not tell you where ... you kissed the wound yourself. And after that? The Count and his huntsman returned to the Castle, leaving the Baron lying helpless; when the latter came to, he made signs to some passing peasants, who put him on a litter, and bore him away, with the intention of taking him to Villers-Cotterets; but he was in such pain, that they could not carry him farther than Puiseux; there they laid him on the bed where you found him, and on which he breathed his last a second after the half hour after nine in the evening. The Countess rose, and without speaking, went to her jewel-case and took out the pearls she had worn two nights before. She handed them to Thibault. What are they for? he asked. Take them, said the Countess, they are worth fifty thousand livres. Are you still anxious for revenge? Yes, replied the Countess. Revenge will cost more than that. How much will it cost? Wait for me to-morrow night, said Thibault, and I will tell you. Where shall I await you? asked the Countess. Here, said Thibault, with the leer of a wild animal. I will await you here, said the Countess. Till to-morrow then. Till to-morrow. Thibault went out. The Countess went and replaced the pearls in her dressing case; lifted up a false bottom, and drew from underneath it a small bottle containing an opal-coloured liquid, and a little dagger with a jewelled handle and case, and a blade inlaid with gold. She hid both beneath her pillow, knelt at her prie-dieu, and, her prayer finished, threw herself dressed on to her bed.... CHAPTER XX TRUE TO TRYST On quitting the Countess s room, Thibault had left the castle by the way which he had described to her, and soon found himself safe beyond its walls and outside the park. And now, for the first time in his life, Thibault had really nowhere to go. His hut was burnt, he was without a friend, and like Cain, he was a wanderer on the face of the earth. He turned to the unfailing shelter of the forest, and there made his way to the lower end of Chavigny; as the day was breaking he came across a solitary house, and asked if he could buy some bread. The woman belonging to it, her husband being away, gave him some, but refused to receive payment for it; his appearance frightened her. Having now food sufficient for the day, Thibault returned to the forest, with the intention of spending his time till evening in a part which he knew between Fleury and Longpont, where the trees were especially thick and tall. As he was looking for a resting place behind a rock, his eye was attracted by a shining object lying at the bottom of a slope, and his curiosity led him to climb down and see what it was. The shining object was the silver badge belonging to a huntsman s shoulder-belt; the shoulder-belt was slung round the neck of a dead body, or rather of a skeleton, for the flesh had been entirely eaten off the bones, which were as clean as if prepared for an anatomist s study or a painter s studio. The skeleton looked as if it had only lain there since the preceding night. Ah! ah! said Thibault, this is probably the work of my friends, the wolves; they evidently profited by the permission which I gave them. Curious to know if possible who the victim was, he examined it more closely; his curiosity was soon satisfied, for the badge, which the wolves had no doubt rejected as less easily digestible than the rest, was lying on the chest of the skeleton, like a ticket on a bale of goods. J. B. LESTOCQ, Head Keeper to the Comte de Mont-Gobert. Well done! laughed Thibault, here is one at least who did not live long to enjoy the result of his murderous act. Then, contracting his brow, he muttered to himself, in a low voice, and this time without laughing: Is there perhaps, after all, what people call a Providence? Lestocq s death was not difficult to account for. He had probably been executing some order for his master that night, and on the road between Mont-Gobert and Longpont, had been attacked by wolves. He had defended himself with the same knife with which he had wounded the Baron, for Thibault found the knife a few paces off, at a spot where the ground showed traces of a severe struggle; at last, being disarmed, the ferocious beasts had dragged him into the hollow, and there devoured him. Thibault was becoming so indifferent to everything that he felt neither pleasure nor regret, neither satisfaction nor remorse, at Lestocq s death; all he thought was, that it simplified matters for the Countess, as she would now only have her husband upon whom she need revenge herself. Then he went and found a place where the rocks afforded him the best shelter from the wind, and prepared to spend his day there in peace. Towards mid-day, he heard the horn of the Lord of Vez, and the cry of his hounds; the mighty huntsman was after game, but the chase did not pass near enough to Thibault to disturb him. At last the night came. At nine o clock Thibault rose and set out for the Castle of Mont-Gobert. He found the breach, followed the path he knew, and came to the little hut where Lisette had been awaiting him on the night when he had come in the guise of Raoul. The poor girl was there this evening, but alarmed and trembling. Thibault wished to carry out the old traditions and tried to kiss her, but she sprang back with visible signs of fear. Do not touch me, she said, or I shall call out. Oh, indeed! my pretty one, said Thibault, you were not so sour-tempered the other day with the Baron Raoul. May be not, said the girl, but a great many things have happened since the other day. And many more to happen still, said Thibault in a lively tone. I think, said the waiting-maid in a mournful voice, that the climax is already reached. Then, as she went on in front. If you wish to come, she added, follow me. Thibault followed her; Lisette, without the slightest effort at concealment, walked straight across the open space that lay between the trees and the castle. You are courageous to-day, said Thibault, and supposing some one were to see us.... There is no fear now, she answered, the eyes that could have seen us are all closed. Although he did not understand what the young girl meant by these words, the tone in which they were spoken made Thibault shiver. He continued to follow her in silence as they went up the winding-stairs to the first floor. As Lisette laid her hand on the key of the door, Thibault suddenly stopped her. Something in the silence and solitude of the castle filled him with fear; it seemed as if a curse might have fallen on the place. Where are we going? said Thibault, scarcely knowing himself what he said. You know well enough, surely. Into the Countess s room? Into the Countess s room. She is waiting for me? She is waiting for you. And Lisette opened the door. Go in, she said. Thibault went in, and Lisette shut the door behind him and waited outside. It was the same exquisite room, lighted in the same manner, filled with the same sweet scent. Thibault looked round for the Countess, he expected to see her appear at the dressing-room door, but the door remained closed. Not a sound was to be heard in the room, except the ticking of the S vres clock, and the beating of Thibault s heart. He began to look about him with a feeling of shuddering fear for which he could not account; then his eyes fell on the bed; the Countess was lying asleep upon it. In her hair were the same diamond pins, round her neck the same pearls; she was dressed in the same pink silk dressing-gown, and had on the same little slippers of cloth of silver which she had worn to receive the Baron Raoul.

spoke

How many times the word 'spoke' appears in the text?

thus within its cell. But he could still hear the priest, who not only spoke to him, but endeavoured by shaking him to arouse him from his lethargy. Thibault found this very fatiguing, and it was lucky for the priest that the wounded man, just now, had no superhuman power, for he inwardly sent the good man to the devil, many times over. Before long it seemed to him that some sort of hot burning pan was being inserted under the soles of his feet, his loins, his head; his blood began to circulate, then to boil, like water over a fire. His ideas became confused, his clenched jaws opened; his tongue which had been bound became loosened; some disconnected words escaped him. Ah, ah! he thought to himself, this no doubt is what the good doctor spoke about as delirium; and, for the while at least, this was his last lucid idea. His whole life--and his life had really only existed since his first acquaintance with the black wolf--passed before him. He saw himself following, and failing to hit the buck; saw himself tied to the oak-tree, and the blows of the strap falling on him; saw himself and the black wolf drawing up their compact; saw himself trying to pass the devil s ring over Agnelette s finger; saw himself trying to pull out the red hairs, which now covered a third of his head. Then he saw himself on his way to pay court to the pretty Madame Polet of the mill, meeting Landry, and getting rid of his rival; pursued by the farm servants, and followed by his wolves. He saw himself making the acquaintance of Madame Magloire, hunting for her, eating his share of the game, hiding behind the curtains, discovered by Ma tre Magloire, flouted by the Baron of Vez, turned out by all three. Again he saw the hollow tree, with his wolves couching around it and the owls perched on its branches, and heard the sounds of the approaching violins and hautboy and saw himself looking, as Agnelette and the happy wedding party went by. He saw himself the victim of angry jealousy, endeavouring to fight against it by the help of drink, and across his troubled brain came the recollection of Fran ois, of Champagne, and the Inn-keeper; he heard the galloping of Baron Raoul s horse, and he felt himself knocked down and rolling in the muddy road. Then he ceased to see himself as Thibault; in his stead arose the figure of the handsome young rider whose form he had taken for a while. Once more he was kissing Lisette, once more his lips were touching the Countess s hand; then he was wanting to escape, but he found himself at a cross-road where three ways only met, and each of these was guarded by one of his victims: the first, by the spectre of a drowned man, that was Marcotte; the second, by a young man dying of fever on a hospital bed, that was Landry; the third, by a wounded man, dragging himself along on one knee, and trying in vain to stand up on his mutilated leg, that was the Comte de Mont-Gobert. He fancied that as all these things passed before him, he told the history of them one by one, and that the priest, as he listened to this strange confession, looked more like a dying man, was paler and more trembling than the man whose confession he was listening to; that he wanted to give him absolution, but that he, Thibault, pushed him away, shaking his head, and that he cried out with a terrible laugh: I want no absolution! I am damned! damned! damned! And in the midst of all this hallucination, this delirious madness, the spirit of Thibault could hear the priest s clock striking the hours, and as they struck he counted them. Only this clock seemed to have grown to gigantic proportions and the face of it was the blue vault of heaven, and the numbers on it were flames; and the clock was called eternity, and the monstrous pendulum, as it swung backwards and forwards called out in turn at every beat: Never! For ever! And so he lay and heard the long hours of the day pass one by one; and then at last the clock struck nine. At half past nine, he, Thibault, would have been Raoul, and Raoul would have been Thibault, for just four and twenty hours. As the last stroke of the hour died away, Thibault felt the fever passing from him, it was succeeded by a sensation of coldness, which almost amounted to shivering. He opened his eyes, all trembling with cold, and saw the priest at the foot of the bed saying the prayers for the dying, and the hands of the actual clock pointing to a quarter past nine. His senses had become so acute, that, imperceptible as was their double movement, he could yet see both the larger and smaller one slowly creeping along; they were gradually nearing the critical hour; half past nine! Although the face of the clock was in darkness, it seemed illuminated by some inward light. As the minute hand approached the number 6, a spasm becoming every instant more and more violent shook the dying man; his feet were like ice, and the numbness slowly, but steadily, mounted from the feet to the knees, from the knees to the thighs, from the thighs to the lower part of the body. The sweat was running down his forehead, but he had no strength to wipe it away, nor even to ask to have it done. It was a sweat of agony which he knew every moment might be the sweat of death. All kinds of strange shapes, which had nothing of the human about them, floated before his eyes; the light faded away; wings as of bats seemed to lift his body and carry it into some twilight region, which was neither life nor death, but seemed a part of both. Then the twilight itself grew darker and darker; his eyes closed, and like a blind man stumbling in the dark, his heavy wings seemed to flap against strange and unknown things. After that he sank away into unfathomable depths, into bottomless abysses, but still he heard the sound of a bell. The bell rang once, and scarcely had it ceased to vibrate when the dying man uttered a cry. The priest rose and went to the side of the bed; with that cry the Baron Raoul had breathed his last: it was exactly one second after the half hour after nine. CHAPTER XIX THE DEAD AND THE LIVING At the same moment that the trembling soul of the young Baron passed away, Thibault, awaking as if from an agitated sleep full of terrible dreams, sat up in his bed. He was surrounded by fire, every corner of his hut was in flames; at first he thought it was a continuation of his nightmare, but then he heard cries of, Death to the wizard! death to the sorcerer! death to the were-wolf! and he understood that some terrible attack was being made upon him. The flames came nearer, they reached the bed, he felt their heat upon him; a few seconds more and he would be burned alive in the midst of the flaming pile. Thibault leaped from his bed, seized his boar-spear, and dashed out of the back door of his hut. No sooner did his enemies see him rush through the fire and emerge from the smoke than their cries of death to him! death! were redoubled. One or two shots were fired at him; Thibault heard the bullets whizz past; those who shot at him wore the livery of the Grand Master, and Thibault recalled the menace of the lord of Vez, uttered against him a few days before. He was then beyond the pale of the law; he could be smoked out of his hole like a fox; he could be shot down like a buck. Luckily for Thibault, not one of the bullets struck him, and as the circle of fire made by the burning hut was not a large one, he was soon safely beyond it, and once again in shelter of the vast and gloomy forest, where, had it not been for the cries of the menials who were burning down his house, the silence would have been as complete as the darkness. He sat down at the foot of a tree and buried his head in his hands. The events of the last forty-eight hours had succeeded each other with such rapidity, that there was no lack of matter to serve as subjects of reflection to the shoe-maker. The twenty-four hours, during which he had lived another existence than his own, seemed to him like a dream, so much so, that he would not have dared to take his oath that all this recent affair between the Baron, and the Countess Jane, and the Comte de Mont-Gobert had really taken place. The church clock of Oigny struck ten, and he lifted his head. Ten o clock! and only half-an-hour before he had been still in the body of the Baron Raoul, as he lay dying in the house of the Cur of Puiseux. Ah! he exclaimed I must find out for certain what has happened! It is not quite three miles to Puiseux and I shall be there in half-an-hour; I should like to ascertain if the Baron is really dead. A melancholy howl made answer to his words; he looked round; his faithful body-guards were back again; he had his pack about him once more. Come, wolves! come, my only friends! he cried, let us be off! And he started with them across the forest in the direction of Puiseux. The huntsmen of the Lord of Vez, who were poking up the remaining embers of the ruined hut, saw a man pass, as in a vision, running at the head of a dozen or more wolves. They crossed themselves, and became more convinced than ever that Thibault was a wizard. And anybody else who had seen Thibault, flying along as swiftly as his swiftest wolf, and covering the ground between Oigny and Puiseux in less than a quarter of an hour, would certainly have thought so too. He stopped at the entrance to the village, and turning to his wolves, he said: Friend wolves, I have no further need of you to-night, and indeed, I wish to be alone. Amuse yourselves with the stables in the neighbourhood, I give you leave to do just what you like; and if you chance to come across one of those two-footed animals, called men, forget, friend wolves, that they claim to be made in the image of their Creator, and never fear to satisfy your appetite. Whereupon the wolves rushed off in different directions, uttering howls of joy, while Thibault went on into the village. The Cur s house adjoined the church, and Thibault made a circuit so as to avoid passing in front of the Cross. When he reached the presbytery, he looked in through one of the windows, and there he saw a bed with a lighted wax candle beside it; and over the bed itself was spread a sheet, and beneath the sheet could be seen the outlines of a figure lying rigid in death. There appeared to be no one in the house; the priest had no doubt gone to give notice of the death to the village authorities. Thibault went inside, and called the priest, but no one answered. He walked up to the bed, there could be no mistake about the body under the sheet being that of a dead man; he lifted the sheet, there could be no mistaking that the dead body was that of Raoul de Vauparfond. On his face lay the still, unearthly beauty which is born of eternity. His features, which in life had been somewhat too feminine for those of a man, had now assumed the sombre grandeur of death. At the first glance you might have thought he only slept; but on gazing longer you recognised in that immovable calm something more profound than sleep. The presence of one who carries a sickle for sceptre, and wears a shroud for mantle was unmistakeable, and you knew King Death was there. Thibault had left the door open, and he heard the sound of light footsteps approaching; at the back of the alcove hung a serge curtain, which masked a door by which he could retreat, if necessary, and he now went and placed himself behind it. A woman dressed in black, and covered with a black veil, paused in some hesitation at the door. The head of another woman passed in front of her s and looked carefully round the room. I think it is safe for Madame to go in; I see no one about, and besides, I will keep watch. The woman in black went in, walked slowly towards the bed, stopped a moment to wipe the perspiration from her forehead, then, without further hesitation, lifted the sheet which Thibault had thrown back over the face of the dead man; Thibault then saw that it was the Countess. Alas! she said, what they told me was true! Then she fell on her knees, praying and sobbing. Her prayer being ended, she rose again, kissed the pale forehead of the dead, and the blue marks of the wound through which the soul had fled. O my well-beloved, my Raoul; she murmured, who will tell me the name of your murderer? who will help me to avenge your death? As the Countess finished speaking, she gave a cry and started back; she seemed to hear a voice that answered, I will! and something had shaken the green serge curtain. The Countess however was no chicken-hearted woman; she took the candle that was burning at the head of the bed and went and looked behind the curtain; but no creature was to be seen, a closed door was all that met her eye. She put back the candle, took a pair of gold scissors from a little pocket case, cut off a curl of the dead man s hair, placed the curl in a black velvet sachet which hung over her heart, gave one last kiss to her dead lover, laid the sheet over his face, and left the house. Just as she was crossing the threshold, she met the priest, and drawing back, drew her veil more closely over her face. Who are you? asked the priest. I am Grief, she answered, and the priest made way for her to pass. The Countess and her attendant had come on foot, and were returning in the same manner, for the distance between Puiseux and Mont-Gobert was not much more than half-a-mile. When about half way along their road, a man, who had been hiding behind a willow tree, stepped forward and barred their further passage. Lisette screamed, but the Countess, without the least sign of fear, went up to the man, and asked: Who are you? The man who answered I will just now, when you were asking who would denounce the murderer to you. And you can help me to revenge myself on him? Whenever you like. At once? We cannot talk here very well. Where can we find a better place? In your own room for one. We must not enter the castle together. No; but I can go through the breach in the park wall: Mademoiselle Lisette can wait for me in the hut where Monsieur Raoul used to leave his horse, she can take me up the winding-stair and into your room. If you should be in your dressing-room, I will wait for you, as Monsieur Raoul waited the night before last. The two women shuddered from head to foot. Who are you to know all these details? asked the Countess. I will tell you when the time comes for me to tell you. The Countess hesitated a moment, then, recovering her resolution, she said: Very well then; come through the breach; Lisette will wait for you in the stable. Oh! Madame, cried the maid, I shall never dare to go and bring that man to you! I will go myself then, said the Countess. Well said! put in Thibault, there spoke a woman worth calling one! And so saying he slid down into a kind of ravine beside the road, and disappeared. Lisette very nearly fainted. Lean on me, Mademoiselle, said the Countess, and let us walk on; I am anxious to hear what this man has to say to me. The two women entered the castle by way of the farm; no one had seen them go out, and no one saw them return. On reaching her room, the Countess waited for Lisette to bring up the stranger. Ten minutes had elapsed when the maid hurried in with a pale face. Ah! Madame, she said, there was no need for me to go to fetch him. What do you mean? asked the Countess. Because he knew his way up as well as I did! And oh! Madame! if you knew what he said to me! That man is the devil, Madame, I feel sure! Show him in, said the Countess. I am here! said Thibault. You can leave us now, my girl, said the Countess to Lisette. The latter quitted the room and the Countess remained alone with Thibault. Thibault s appearance was not one to inspire confidence. He gave the impression of a man who had once and for all made up his mind, but it was also easy to see that it was for no good purpose; a Satanic smile played about his mouth, and there was a demoniacal light in his eyes. He had made no attempt to hide his red hairs, but had left them defiantly uncovered, and they hung over his forehead like a plume of flame. But still the Countess looked him full in the face without changing colour. My maid says that you know the way to my room; have you ever been here before? Yes, Madame, once. And when was that? The day before yesterday. At what time? From half-past ten till half-past twelve at night. The Countess looked steadily at him and said: That is not true. Would you like me to tell you what took place? During the time you mention? During the time I mention. Say on, replied the Countess, laconically. Thibault was equally laconic. Monsieur Raoul came in by that door, he said, pointing to the one leading into the corridor, and Lisette left him here alone. You entered the room by that one, he continued, indicating the dressing-room door, and you found him on his knees. Your hair was unbound, only fastened back by three diamond pins, you wore a pink silk dressing-gown, trimmed with lace, pink silk stockings, cloth-of-silver slippers and a chain of pearls round your neck. You describe my dress exactly, said the Countess, continue. You tried to pick a quarrel with Monsieur Raoul, first because he loitered in the corridors to kiss your waiting-maid; secondly, because someone had met him late at night on the road between Erneville and Villers-Cotterets; thirdly, because, at the ball given at the Castle, at which you yourself were not present, he danced four times with Madame de Bonneuil. Continue. In answer to your accusations, your lover made excuses for himself, some good, some bad; you, however, were satisfied with them for you were just forgiving him when Lisette rushed in full of alarm calling to Monsieur Raoul to escape, as your husband had just returned. Lisette was right, you can be nothing less than the devil, said the Countess with a sinister laugh, and I think we shall be able to do business together.... Finish your account. Then you and your maid together pushed Monsieur Raoul, who resisted, into the dressing-room; Lisette forced him along the corridors and through two or three rooms; they then went down a winding staircase, in the wing of the Castle opposite to the one by which they had gone up. On arriving at the foot of the staircase, the fugitives found the door locked; then they ran into a kind of office where Lisette opened the window, which was about seven or eight feet above the ground. Monsieur Raoul leaped down out of this window, ran to the stable, found his horse still there, but hamstrung; then he swore that if he met the Count at any time he would hamstring him as the Count had hamstrung his horse, for he thought it a cowardly act to injure a poor beast so unnecessarily. Then he went on foot to the breach, climbed it, and found the Count awaiting him outside the park, with his sword drawn. The Baron had his hunting-knife with him; he drew it, and the duel began. Was the Count alone? Wait ... the Count appeared to be alone; after the fourth or fifth pass the Count was wounded in the shoulder, and sank on one knee, crying: help, Lestocq! Then the Baron remembered his oath, and hamstrung the Count as he had hamstrung the horse; but as the Baron rose, Lestocq drove his knife into his back; it passed under the shoulder blade and out through the chest. I need not tell you where ... you kissed the wound yourself. And after that? The Count and his huntsman returned to the Castle, leaving the Baron lying helpless; when the latter came to, he made signs to some passing peasants, who put him on a litter, and bore him away, with the intention of taking him to Villers-Cotterets; but he was in such pain, that they could not carry him farther than Puiseux; there they laid him on the bed where you found him, and on which he breathed his last a second after the half hour after nine in the evening. The Countess rose, and without speaking, went to her jewel-case and took out the pearls she had worn two nights before. She handed them to Thibault. What are they for? he asked. Take them, said the Countess, they are worth fifty thousand livres. Are you still anxious for revenge? Yes, replied the Countess. Revenge will cost more than that. How much will it cost? Wait for me to-morrow night, said Thibault, and I will tell you. Where shall I await you? asked the Countess. Here, said Thibault, with the leer of a wild animal. I will await you here, said the Countess. Till to-morrow then. Till to-morrow. Thibault went out. The Countess went and replaced the pearls in her dressing case; lifted up a false bottom, and drew from underneath it a small bottle containing an opal-coloured liquid, and a little dagger with a jewelled handle and case, and a blade inlaid with gold. She hid both beneath her pillow, knelt at her prie-dieu, and, her prayer finished, threw herself dressed on to her bed.... CHAPTER XX TRUE TO TRYST On quitting the Countess s room, Thibault had left the castle by the way which he had described to her, and soon found himself safe beyond its walls and outside the park. And now, for the first time in his life, Thibault had really nowhere to go. His hut was burnt, he was without a friend, and like Cain, he was a wanderer on the face of the earth. He turned to the unfailing shelter of the forest, and there made his way to the lower end of Chavigny; as the day was breaking he came across a solitary house, and asked if he could buy some bread. The woman belonging to it, her husband being away, gave him some, but refused to receive payment for it; his appearance frightened her. Having now food sufficient for the day, Thibault returned to the forest, with the intention of spending his time till evening in a part which he knew between Fleury and Longpont, where the trees were especially thick and tall. As he was looking for a resting place behind a rock, his eye was attracted by a shining object lying at the bottom of a slope, and his curiosity led him to climb down and see what it was. The shining object was the silver badge belonging to a huntsman s shoulder-belt; the shoulder-belt was slung round the neck of a dead body, or rather of a skeleton, for the flesh had been entirely eaten off the bones, which were as clean as if prepared for an anatomist s study or a painter s studio. The skeleton looked as if it had only lain there since the preceding night. Ah! ah! said Thibault, this is probably the work of my friends, the wolves; they evidently profited by the permission which I gave them. Curious to know if possible who the victim was, he examined it more closely; his curiosity was soon satisfied, for the badge, which the wolves had no doubt rejected as less easily digestible than the rest, was lying on the chest of the skeleton, like a ticket on a bale of goods. J. B. LESTOCQ, Head Keeper to the Comte de Mont-Gobert. Well done! laughed Thibault, here is one at least who did not live long to enjoy the result of his murderous act. Then, contracting his brow, he muttered to himself, in a low voice, and this time without laughing: Is there perhaps, after all, what people call a Providence? Lestocq s death was not difficult to account for. He had probably been executing some order for his master that night, and on the road between Mont-Gobert and Longpont, had been attacked by wolves. He had defended himself with the same knife with which he had wounded the Baron, for Thibault found the knife a few paces off, at a spot where the ground showed traces of a severe struggle; at last, being disarmed, the ferocious beasts had dragged him into the hollow, and there devoured him. Thibault was becoming so indifferent to everything that he felt neither pleasure nor regret, neither satisfaction nor remorse, at Lestocq s death; all he thought was, that it simplified matters for the Countess, as she would now only have her husband upon whom she need revenge herself. Then he went and found a place where the rocks afforded him the best shelter from the wind, and prepared to spend his day there in peace. Towards mid-day, he heard the horn of the Lord of Vez, and the cry of his hounds; the mighty huntsman was after game, but the chase did not pass near enough to Thibault to disturb him. At last the night came. At nine o clock Thibault rose and set out for the Castle of Mont-Gobert. He found the breach, followed the path he knew, and came to the little hut where Lisette had been awaiting him on the night when he had come in the guise of Raoul. The poor girl was there this evening, but alarmed and trembling. Thibault wished to carry out the old traditions and tried to kiss her, but she sprang back with visible signs of fear. Do not touch me, she said, or I shall call out. Oh, indeed! my pretty one, said Thibault, you were not so sour-tempered the other day with the Baron Raoul. May be not, said the girl, but a great many things have happened since the other day. And many more to happen still, said Thibault in a lively tone. I think, said the waiting-maid in a mournful voice, that the climax is already reached. Then, as she went on in front. If you wish to come, she added, follow me. Thibault followed her; Lisette, without the slightest effort at concealment, walked straight across the open space that lay between the trees and the castle. You are courageous to-day, said Thibault, and supposing some one were to see us.... There is no fear now, she answered, the eyes that could have seen us are all closed. Although he did not understand what the young girl meant by these words, the tone in which they were spoken made Thibault shiver. He continued to follow her in silence as they went up the winding-stairs to the first floor. As Lisette laid her hand on the key of the door, Thibault suddenly stopped her. Something in the silence and solitude of the castle filled him with fear; it seemed as if a curse might have fallen on the place. Where are we going? said Thibault, scarcely knowing himself what he said. You know well enough, surely. Into the Countess s room? Into the Countess s room. She is waiting for me? She is waiting for you. And Lisette opened the door. Go in, she said. Thibault went in, and Lisette shut the door behind him and waited outside. It was the same exquisite room, lighted in the same manner, filled with the same sweet scent. Thibault looked round for the Countess, he expected to see her appear at the dressing-room door, but the door remained closed. Not a sound was to be heard in the room, except the ticking of the S vres clock, and the beating of Thibault s heart. He began to look about him with a feeling of shuddering fear for which he could not account; then his eyes fell on the bed; the Countess was lying asleep upon it. In her hair were the same diamond pins, round her neck the same pearls; she was dressed in the same pink silk dressing-gown, and had on the same little slippers of cloth of silver which she had worn to receive the Baron Raoul.

interests

How many times the word 'interests' appears in the text?

thus within its cell. But he could still hear the priest, who not only spoke to him, but endeavoured by shaking him to arouse him from his lethargy. Thibault found this very fatiguing, and it was lucky for the priest that the wounded man, just now, had no superhuman power, for he inwardly sent the good man to the devil, many times over. Before long it seemed to him that some sort of hot burning pan was being inserted under the soles of his feet, his loins, his head; his blood began to circulate, then to boil, like water over a fire. His ideas became confused, his clenched jaws opened; his tongue which had been bound became loosened; some disconnected words escaped him. Ah, ah! he thought to himself, this no doubt is what the good doctor spoke about as delirium; and, for the while at least, this was his last lucid idea. His whole life--and his life had really only existed since his first acquaintance with the black wolf--passed before him. He saw himself following, and failing to hit the buck; saw himself tied to the oak-tree, and the blows of the strap falling on him; saw himself and the black wolf drawing up their compact; saw himself trying to pass the devil s ring over Agnelette s finger; saw himself trying to pull out the red hairs, which now covered a third of his head. Then he saw himself on his way to pay court to the pretty Madame Polet of the mill, meeting Landry, and getting rid of his rival; pursued by the farm servants, and followed by his wolves. He saw himself making the acquaintance of Madame Magloire, hunting for her, eating his share of the game, hiding behind the curtains, discovered by Ma tre Magloire, flouted by the Baron of Vez, turned out by all three. Again he saw the hollow tree, with his wolves couching around it and the owls perched on its branches, and heard the sounds of the approaching violins and hautboy and saw himself looking, as Agnelette and the happy wedding party went by. He saw himself the victim of angry jealousy, endeavouring to fight against it by the help of drink, and across his troubled brain came the recollection of Fran ois, of Champagne, and the Inn-keeper; he heard the galloping of Baron Raoul s horse, and he felt himself knocked down and rolling in the muddy road. Then he ceased to see himself as Thibault; in his stead arose the figure of the handsome young rider whose form he had taken for a while. Once more he was kissing Lisette, once more his lips were touching the Countess s hand; then he was wanting to escape, but he found himself at a cross-road where three ways only met, and each of these was guarded by one of his victims: the first, by the spectre of a drowned man, that was Marcotte; the second, by a young man dying of fever on a hospital bed, that was Landry; the third, by a wounded man, dragging himself along on one knee, and trying in vain to stand up on his mutilated leg, that was the Comte de Mont-Gobert. He fancied that as all these things passed before him, he told the history of them one by one, and that the priest, as he listened to this strange confession, looked more like a dying man, was paler and more trembling than the man whose confession he was listening to; that he wanted to give him absolution, but that he, Thibault, pushed him away, shaking his head, and that he cried out with a terrible laugh: I want no absolution! I am damned! damned! damned! And in the midst of all this hallucination, this delirious madness, the spirit of Thibault could hear the priest s clock striking the hours, and as they struck he counted them. Only this clock seemed to have grown to gigantic proportions and the face of it was the blue vault of heaven, and the numbers on it were flames; and the clock was called eternity, and the monstrous pendulum, as it swung backwards and forwards called out in turn at every beat: Never! For ever! And so he lay and heard the long hours of the day pass one by one; and then at last the clock struck nine. At half past nine, he, Thibault, would have been Raoul, and Raoul would have been Thibault, for just four and twenty hours. As the last stroke of the hour died away, Thibault felt the fever passing from him, it was succeeded by a sensation of coldness, which almost amounted to shivering. He opened his eyes, all trembling with cold, and saw the priest at the foot of the bed saying the prayers for the dying, and the hands of the actual clock pointing to a quarter past nine. His senses had become so acute, that, imperceptible as was their double movement, he could yet see both the larger and smaller one slowly creeping along; they were gradually nearing the critical hour; half past nine! Although the face of the clock was in darkness, it seemed illuminated by some inward light. As the minute hand approached the number 6, a spasm becoming every instant more and more violent shook the dying man; his feet were like ice, and the numbness slowly, but steadily, mounted from the feet to the knees, from the knees to the thighs, from the thighs to the lower part of the body. The sweat was running down his forehead, but he had no strength to wipe it away, nor even to ask to have it done. It was a sweat of agony which he knew every moment might be the sweat of death. All kinds of strange shapes, which had nothing of the human about them, floated before his eyes; the light faded away; wings as of bats seemed to lift his body and carry it into some twilight region, which was neither life nor death, but seemed a part of both. Then the twilight itself grew darker and darker; his eyes closed, and like a blind man stumbling in the dark, his heavy wings seemed to flap against strange and unknown things. After that he sank away into unfathomable depths, into bottomless abysses, but still he heard the sound of a bell. The bell rang once, and scarcely had it ceased to vibrate when the dying man uttered a cry. The priest rose and went to the side of the bed; with that cry the Baron Raoul had breathed his last: it was exactly one second after the half hour after nine. CHAPTER XIX THE DEAD AND THE LIVING At the same moment that the trembling soul of the young Baron passed away, Thibault, awaking as if from an agitated sleep full of terrible dreams, sat up in his bed. He was surrounded by fire, every corner of his hut was in flames; at first he thought it was a continuation of his nightmare, but then he heard cries of, Death to the wizard! death to the sorcerer! death to the were-wolf! and he understood that some terrible attack was being made upon him. The flames came nearer, they reached the bed, he felt their heat upon him; a few seconds more and he would be burned alive in the midst of the flaming pile. Thibault leaped from his bed, seized his boar-spear, and dashed out of the back door of his hut. No sooner did his enemies see him rush through the fire and emerge from the smoke than their cries of death to him! death! were redoubled. One or two shots were fired at him; Thibault heard the bullets whizz past; those who shot at him wore the livery of the Grand Master, and Thibault recalled the menace of the lord of Vez, uttered against him a few days before. He was then beyond the pale of the law; he could be smoked out of his hole like a fox; he could be shot down like a buck. Luckily for Thibault, not one of the bullets struck him, and as the circle of fire made by the burning hut was not a large one, he was soon safely beyond it, and once again in shelter of the vast and gloomy forest, where, had it not been for the cries of the menials who were burning down his house, the silence would have been as complete as the darkness. He sat down at the foot of a tree and buried his head in his hands. The events of the last forty-eight hours had succeeded each other with such rapidity, that there was no lack of matter to serve as subjects of reflection to the shoe-maker. The twenty-four hours, during which he had lived another existence than his own, seemed to him like a dream, so much so, that he would not have dared to take his oath that all this recent affair between the Baron, and the Countess Jane, and the Comte de Mont-Gobert had really taken place. The church clock of Oigny struck ten, and he lifted his head. Ten o clock! and only half-an-hour before he had been still in the body of the Baron Raoul, as he lay dying in the house of the Cur of Puiseux. Ah! he exclaimed I must find out for certain what has happened! It is not quite three miles to Puiseux and I shall be there in half-an-hour; I should like to ascertain if the Baron is really dead. A melancholy howl made answer to his words; he looked round; his faithful body-guards were back again; he had his pack about him once more. Come, wolves! come, my only friends! he cried, let us be off! And he started with them across the forest in the direction of Puiseux. The huntsmen of the Lord of Vez, who were poking up the remaining embers of the ruined hut, saw a man pass, as in a vision, running at the head of a dozen or more wolves. They crossed themselves, and became more convinced than ever that Thibault was a wizard. And anybody else who had seen Thibault, flying along as swiftly as his swiftest wolf, and covering the ground between Oigny and Puiseux in less than a quarter of an hour, would certainly have thought so too. He stopped at the entrance to the village, and turning to his wolves, he said: Friend wolves, I have no further need of you to-night, and indeed, I wish to be alone. Amuse yourselves with the stables in the neighbourhood, I give you leave to do just what you like; and if you chance to come across one of those two-footed animals, called men, forget, friend wolves, that they claim to be made in the image of their Creator, and never fear to satisfy your appetite. Whereupon the wolves rushed off in different directions, uttering howls of joy, while Thibault went on into the village. The Cur s house adjoined the church, and Thibault made a circuit so as to avoid passing in front of the Cross. When he reached the presbytery, he looked in through one of the windows, and there he saw a bed with a lighted wax candle beside it; and over the bed itself was spread a sheet, and beneath the sheet could be seen the outlines of a figure lying rigid in death. There appeared to be no one in the house; the priest had no doubt gone to give notice of the death to the village authorities. Thibault went inside, and called the priest, but no one answered. He walked up to the bed, there could be no mistake about the body under the sheet being that of a dead man; he lifted the sheet, there could be no mistaking that the dead body was that of Raoul de Vauparfond. On his face lay the still, unearthly beauty which is born of eternity. His features, which in life had been somewhat too feminine for those of a man, had now assumed the sombre grandeur of death. At the first glance you might have thought he only slept; but on gazing longer you recognised in that immovable calm something more profound than sleep. The presence of one who carries a sickle for sceptre, and wears a shroud for mantle was unmistakeable, and you knew King Death was there. Thibault had left the door open, and he heard the sound of light footsteps approaching; at the back of the alcove hung a serge curtain, which masked a door by which he could retreat, if necessary, and he now went and placed himself behind it. A woman dressed in black, and covered with a black veil, paused in some hesitation at the door. The head of another woman passed in front of her s and looked carefully round the room. I think it is safe for Madame to go in; I see no one about, and besides, I will keep watch. The woman in black went in, walked slowly towards the bed, stopped a moment to wipe the perspiration from her forehead, then, without further hesitation, lifted the sheet which Thibault had thrown back over the face of the dead man; Thibault then saw that it was the Countess. Alas! she said, what they told me was true! Then she fell on her knees, praying and sobbing. Her prayer being ended, she rose again, kissed the pale forehead of the dead, and the blue marks of the wound through which the soul had fled. O my well-beloved, my Raoul; she murmured, who will tell me the name of your murderer? who will help me to avenge your death? As the Countess finished speaking, she gave a cry and started back; she seemed to hear a voice that answered, I will! and something had shaken the green serge curtain. The Countess however was no chicken-hearted woman; she took the candle that was burning at the head of the bed and went and looked behind the curtain; but no creature was to be seen, a closed door was all that met her eye. She put back the candle, took a pair of gold scissors from a little pocket case, cut off a curl of the dead man s hair, placed the curl in a black velvet sachet which hung over her heart, gave one last kiss to her dead lover, laid the sheet over his face, and left the house. Just as she was crossing the threshold, she met the priest, and drawing back, drew her veil more closely over her face. Who are you? asked the priest. I am Grief, she answered, and the priest made way for her to pass. The Countess and her attendant had come on foot, and were returning in the same manner, for the distance between Puiseux and Mont-Gobert was not much more than half-a-mile. When about half way along their road, a man, who had been hiding behind a willow tree, stepped forward and barred their further passage. Lisette screamed, but the Countess, without the least sign of fear, went up to the man, and asked: Who are you? The man who answered I will just now, when you were asking who would denounce the murderer to you. And you can help me to revenge myself on him? Whenever you like. At once? We cannot talk here very well. Where can we find a better place? In your own room for one. We must not enter the castle together. No; but I can go through the breach in the park wall: Mademoiselle Lisette can wait for me in the hut where Monsieur Raoul used to leave his horse, she can take me up the winding-stair and into your room. If you should be in your dressing-room, I will wait for you, as Monsieur Raoul waited the night before last. The two women shuddered from head to foot. Who are you to know all these details? asked the Countess. I will tell you when the time comes for me to tell you. The Countess hesitated a moment, then, recovering her resolution, she said: Very well then; come through the breach; Lisette will wait for you in the stable. Oh! Madame, cried the maid, I shall never dare to go and bring that man to you! I will go myself then, said the Countess. Well said! put in Thibault, there spoke a woman worth calling one! And so saying he slid down into a kind of ravine beside the road, and disappeared. Lisette very nearly fainted. Lean on me, Mademoiselle, said the Countess, and let us walk on; I am anxious to hear what this man has to say to me. The two women entered the castle by way of the farm; no one had seen them go out, and no one saw them return. On reaching her room, the Countess waited for Lisette to bring up the stranger. Ten minutes had elapsed when the maid hurried in with a pale face. Ah! Madame, she said, there was no need for me to go to fetch him. What do you mean? asked the Countess. Because he knew his way up as well as I did! And oh! Madame! if you knew what he said to me! That man is the devil, Madame, I feel sure! Show him in, said the Countess. I am here! said Thibault. You can leave us now, my girl, said the Countess to Lisette. The latter quitted the room and the Countess remained alone with Thibault. Thibault s appearance was not one to inspire confidence. He gave the impression of a man who had once and for all made up his mind, but it was also easy to see that it was for no good purpose; a Satanic smile played about his mouth, and there was a demoniacal light in his eyes. He had made no attempt to hide his red hairs, but had left them defiantly uncovered, and they hung over his forehead like a plume of flame. But still the Countess looked him full in the face without changing colour. My maid says that you know the way to my room; have you ever been here before? Yes, Madame, once. And when was that? The day before yesterday. At what time? From half-past ten till half-past twelve at night. The Countess looked steadily at him and said: That is not true. Would you like me to tell you what took place? During the time you mention? During the time I mention. Say on, replied the Countess, laconically. Thibault was equally laconic. Monsieur Raoul came in by that door, he said, pointing to the one leading into the corridor, and Lisette left him here alone. You entered the room by that one, he continued, indicating the dressing-room door, and you found him on his knees. Your hair was unbound, only fastened back by three diamond pins, you wore a pink silk dressing-gown, trimmed with lace, pink silk stockings, cloth-of-silver slippers and a chain of pearls round your neck. You describe my dress exactly, said the Countess, continue. You tried to pick a quarrel with Monsieur Raoul, first because he loitered in the corridors to kiss your waiting-maid; secondly, because someone had met him late at night on the road between Erneville and Villers-Cotterets; thirdly, because, at the ball given at the Castle, at which you yourself were not present, he danced four times with Madame de Bonneuil. Continue. In answer to your accusations, your lover made excuses for himself, some good, some bad; you, however, were satisfied with them for you were just forgiving him when Lisette rushed in full of alarm calling to Monsieur Raoul to escape, as your husband had just returned. Lisette was right, you can be nothing less than the devil, said the Countess with a sinister laugh, and I think we shall be able to do business together.... Finish your account. Then you and your maid together pushed Monsieur Raoul, who resisted, into the dressing-room; Lisette forced him along the corridors and through two or three rooms; they then went down a winding staircase, in the wing of the Castle opposite to the one by which they had gone up. On arriving at the foot of the staircase, the fugitives found the door locked; then they ran into a kind of office where Lisette opened the window, which was about seven or eight feet above the ground. Monsieur Raoul leaped down out of this window, ran to the stable, found his horse still there, but hamstrung; then he swore that if he met the Count at any time he would hamstring him as the Count had hamstrung his horse, for he thought it a cowardly act to injure a poor beast so unnecessarily. Then he went on foot to the breach, climbed it, and found the Count awaiting him outside the park, with his sword drawn. The Baron had his hunting-knife with him; he drew it, and the duel began. Was the Count alone? Wait ... the Count appeared to be alone; after the fourth or fifth pass the Count was wounded in the shoulder, and sank on one knee, crying: help, Lestocq! Then the Baron remembered his oath, and hamstrung the Count as he had hamstrung the horse; but as the Baron rose, Lestocq drove his knife into his back; it passed under the shoulder blade and out through the chest. I need not tell you where ... you kissed the wound yourself. And after that? The Count and his huntsman returned to the Castle, leaving the Baron lying helpless; when the latter came to, he made signs to some passing peasants, who put him on a litter, and bore him away, with the intention of taking him to Villers-Cotterets; but he was in such pain, that they could not carry him farther than Puiseux; there they laid him on the bed where you found him, and on which he breathed his last a second after the half hour after nine in the evening. The Countess rose, and without speaking, went to her jewel-case and took out the pearls she had worn two nights before. She handed them to Thibault. What are they for? he asked. Take them, said the Countess, they are worth fifty thousand livres. Are you still anxious for revenge? Yes, replied the Countess. Revenge will cost more than that. How much will it cost? Wait for me to-morrow night, said Thibault, and I will tell you. Where shall I await you? asked the Countess. Here, said Thibault, with the leer of a wild animal. I will await you here, said the Countess. Till to-morrow then. Till to-morrow. Thibault went out. The Countess went and replaced the pearls in her dressing case; lifted up a false bottom, and drew from underneath it a small bottle containing an opal-coloured liquid, and a little dagger with a jewelled handle and case, and a blade inlaid with gold. She hid both beneath her pillow, knelt at her prie-dieu, and, her prayer finished, threw herself dressed on to her bed.... CHAPTER XX TRUE TO TRYST On quitting the Countess s room, Thibault had left the castle by the way which he had described to her, and soon found himself safe beyond its walls and outside the park. And now, for the first time in his life, Thibault had really nowhere to go. His hut was burnt, he was without a friend, and like Cain, he was a wanderer on the face of the earth. He turned to the unfailing shelter of the forest, and there made his way to the lower end of Chavigny; as the day was breaking he came across a solitary house, and asked if he could buy some bread. The woman belonging to it, her husband being away, gave him some, but refused to receive payment for it; his appearance frightened her. Having now food sufficient for the day, Thibault returned to the forest, with the intention of spending his time till evening in a part which he knew between Fleury and Longpont, where the trees were especially thick and tall. As he was looking for a resting place behind a rock, his eye was attracted by a shining object lying at the bottom of a slope, and his curiosity led him to climb down and see what it was. The shining object was the silver badge belonging to a huntsman s shoulder-belt; the shoulder-belt was slung round the neck of a dead body, or rather of a skeleton, for the flesh had been entirely eaten off the bones, which were as clean as if prepared for an anatomist s study or a painter s studio. The skeleton looked as if it had only lain there since the preceding night. Ah! ah! said Thibault, this is probably the work of my friends, the wolves; they evidently profited by the permission which I gave them. Curious to know if possible who the victim was, he examined it more closely; his curiosity was soon satisfied, for the badge, which the wolves had no doubt rejected as less easily digestible than the rest, was lying on the chest of the skeleton, like a ticket on a bale of goods. J. B. LESTOCQ, Head Keeper to the Comte de Mont-Gobert. Well done! laughed Thibault, here is one at least who did not live long to enjoy the result of his murderous act. Then, contracting his brow, he muttered to himself, in a low voice, and this time without laughing: Is there perhaps, after all, what people call a Providence? Lestocq s death was not difficult to account for. He had probably been executing some order for his master that night, and on the road between Mont-Gobert and Longpont, had been attacked by wolves. He had defended himself with the same knife with which he had wounded the Baron, for Thibault found the knife a few paces off, at a spot where the ground showed traces of a severe struggle; at last, being disarmed, the ferocious beasts had dragged him into the hollow, and there devoured him. Thibault was becoming so indifferent to everything that he felt neither pleasure nor regret, neither satisfaction nor remorse, at Lestocq s death; all he thought was, that it simplified matters for the Countess, as she would now only have her husband upon whom she need revenge herself. Then he went and found a place where the rocks afforded him the best shelter from the wind, and prepared to spend his day there in peace. Towards mid-day, he heard the horn of the Lord of Vez, and the cry of his hounds; the mighty huntsman was after game, but the chase did not pass near enough to Thibault to disturb him. At last the night came. At nine o clock Thibault rose and set out for the Castle of Mont-Gobert. He found the breach, followed the path he knew, and came to the little hut where Lisette had been awaiting him on the night when he had come in the guise of Raoul. The poor girl was there this evening, but alarmed and trembling. Thibault wished to carry out the old traditions and tried to kiss her, but she sprang back with visible signs of fear. Do not touch me, she said, or I shall call out. Oh, indeed! my pretty one, said Thibault, you were not so sour-tempered the other day with the Baron Raoul. May be not, said the girl, but a great many things have happened since the other day. And many more to happen still, said Thibault in a lively tone. I think, said the waiting-maid in a mournful voice, that the climax is already reached. Then, as she went on in front. If you wish to come, she added, follow me. Thibault followed her; Lisette, without the slightest effort at concealment, walked straight across the open space that lay between the trees and the castle. You are courageous to-day, said Thibault, and supposing some one were to see us.... There is no fear now, she answered, the eyes that could have seen us are all closed. Although he did not understand what the young girl meant by these words, the tone in which they were spoken made Thibault shiver. He continued to follow her in silence as they went up the winding-stairs to the first floor. As Lisette laid her hand on the key of the door, Thibault suddenly stopped her. Something in the silence and solitude of the castle filled him with fear; it seemed as if a curse might have fallen on the place. Where are we going? said Thibault, scarcely knowing himself what he said. You know well enough, surely. Into the Countess s room? Into the Countess s room. She is waiting for me? She is waiting for you. And Lisette opened the door. Go in, she said. Thibault went in, and Lisette shut the door behind him and waited outside. It was the same exquisite room, lighted in the same manner, filled with the same sweet scent. Thibault looked round for the Countess, he expected to see her appear at the dressing-room door, but the door remained closed. Not a sound was to be heard in the room, except the ticking of the S vres clock, and the beating of Thibault s heart. He began to look about him with a feeling of shuddering fear for which he could not account; then his eyes fell on the bed; the Countess was lying asleep upon it. In her hair were the same diamond pins, round her neck the same pearls; she was dressed in the same pink silk dressing-gown, and had on the same little slippers of cloth of silver which she had worn to receive the Baron Raoul.

damned

How many times the word 'damned' appears in the text?

thus within its cell. But he could still hear the priest, who not only spoke to him, but endeavoured by shaking him to arouse him from his lethargy. Thibault found this very fatiguing, and it was lucky for the priest that the wounded man, just now, had no superhuman power, for he inwardly sent the good man to the devil, many times over. Before long it seemed to him that some sort of hot burning pan was being inserted under the soles of his feet, his loins, his head; his blood began to circulate, then to boil, like water over a fire. His ideas became confused, his clenched jaws opened; his tongue which had been bound became loosened; some disconnected words escaped him. Ah, ah! he thought to himself, this no doubt is what the good doctor spoke about as delirium; and, for the while at least, this was his last lucid idea. His whole life--and his life had really only existed since his first acquaintance with the black wolf--passed before him. He saw himself following, and failing to hit the buck; saw himself tied to the oak-tree, and the blows of the strap falling on him; saw himself and the black wolf drawing up their compact; saw himself trying to pass the devil s ring over Agnelette s finger; saw himself trying to pull out the red hairs, which now covered a third of his head. Then he saw himself on his way to pay court to the pretty Madame Polet of the mill, meeting Landry, and getting rid of his rival; pursued by the farm servants, and followed by his wolves. He saw himself making the acquaintance of Madame Magloire, hunting for her, eating his share of the game, hiding behind the curtains, discovered by Ma tre Magloire, flouted by the Baron of Vez, turned out by all three. Again he saw the hollow tree, with his wolves couching around it and the owls perched on its branches, and heard the sounds of the approaching violins and hautboy and saw himself looking, as Agnelette and the happy wedding party went by. He saw himself the victim of angry jealousy, endeavouring to fight against it by the help of drink, and across his troubled brain came the recollection of Fran ois, of Champagne, and the Inn-keeper; he heard the galloping of Baron Raoul s horse, and he felt himself knocked down and rolling in the muddy road. Then he ceased to see himself as Thibault; in his stead arose the figure of the handsome young rider whose form he had taken for a while. Once more he was kissing Lisette, once more his lips were touching the Countess s hand; then he was wanting to escape, but he found himself at a cross-road where three ways only met, and each of these was guarded by one of his victims: the first, by the spectre of a drowned man, that was Marcotte; the second, by a young man dying of fever on a hospital bed, that was Landry; the third, by a wounded man, dragging himself along on one knee, and trying in vain to stand up on his mutilated leg, that was the Comte de Mont-Gobert. He fancied that as all these things passed before him, he told the history of them one by one, and that the priest, as he listened to this strange confession, looked more like a dying man, was paler and more trembling than the man whose confession he was listening to; that he wanted to give him absolution, but that he, Thibault, pushed him away, shaking his head, and that he cried out with a terrible laugh: I want no absolution! I am damned! damned! damned! And in the midst of all this hallucination, this delirious madness, the spirit of Thibault could hear the priest s clock striking the hours, and as they struck he counted them. Only this clock seemed to have grown to gigantic proportions and the face of it was the blue vault of heaven, and the numbers on it were flames; and the clock was called eternity, and the monstrous pendulum, as it swung backwards and forwards called out in turn at every beat: Never! For ever! And so he lay and heard the long hours of the day pass one by one; and then at last the clock struck nine. At half past nine, he, Thibault, would have been Raoul, and Raoul would have been Thibault, for just four and twenty hours. As the last stroke of the hour died away, Thibault felt the fever passing from him, it was succeeded by a sensation of coldness, which almost amounted to shivering. He opened his eyes, all trembling with cold, and saw the priest at the foot of the bed saying the prayers for the dying, and the hands of the actual clock pointing to a quarter past nine. His senses had become so acute, that, imperceptible as was their double movement, he could yet see both the larger and smaller one slowly creeping along; they were gradually nearing the critical hour; half past nine! Although the face of the clock was in darkness, it seemed illuminated by some inward light. As the minute hand approached the number 6, a spasm becoming every instant more and more violent shook the dying man; his feet were like ice, and the numbness slowly, but steadily, mounted from the feet to the knees, from the knees to the thighs, from the thighs to the lower part of the body. The sweat was running down his forehead, but he had no strength to wipe it away, nor even to ask to have it done. It was a sweat of agony which he knew every moment might be the sweat of death. All kinds of strange shapes, which had nothing of the human about them, floated before his eyes; the light faded away; wings as of bats seemed to lift his body and carry it into some twilight region, which was neither life nor death, but seemed a part of both. Then the twilight itself grew darker and darker; his eyes closed, and like a blind man stumbling in the dark, his heavy wings seemed to flap against strange and unknown things. After that he sank away into unfathomable depths, into bottomless abysses, but still he heard the sound of a bell. The bell rang once, and scarcely had it ceased to vibrate when the dying man uttered a cry. The priest rose and went to the side of the bed; with that cry the Baron Raoul had breathed his last: it was exactly one second after the half hour after nine. CHAPTER XIX THE DEAD AND THE LIVING At the same moment that the trembling soul of the young Baron passed away, Thibault, awaking as if from an agitated sleep full of terrible dreams, sat up in his bed. He was surrounded by fire, every corner of his hut was in flames; at first he thought it was a continuation of his nightmare, but then he heard cries of, Death to the wizard! death to the sorcerer! death to the were-wolf! and he understood that some terrible attack was being made upon him. The flames came nearer, they reached the bed, he felt their heat upon him; a few seconds more and he would be burned alive in the midst of the flaming pile. Thibault leaped from his bed, seized his boar-spear, and dashed out of the back door of his hut. No sooner did his enemies see him rush through the fire and emerge from the smoke than their cries of death to him! death! were redoubled. One or two shots were fired at him; Thibault heard the bullets whizz past; those who shot at him wore the livery of the Grand Master, and Thibault recalled the menace of the lord of Vez, uttered against him a few days before. He was then beyond the pale of the law; he could be smoked out of his hole like a fox; he could be shot down like a buck. Luckily for Thibault, not one of the bullets struck him, and as the circle of fire made by the burning hut was not a large one, he was soon safely beyond it, and once again in shelter of the vast and gloomy forest, where, had it not been for the cries of the menials who were burning down his house, the silence would have been as complete as the darkness. He sat down at the foot of a tree and buried his head in his hands. The events of the last forty-eight hours had succeeded each other with such rapidity, that there was no lack of matter to serve as subjects of reflection to the shoe-maker. The twenty-four hours, during which he had lived another existence than his own, seemed to him like a dream, so much so, that he would not have dared to take his oath that all this recent affair between the Baron, and the Countess Jane, and the Comte de Mont-Gobert had really taken place. The church clock of Oigny struck ten, and he lifted his head. Ten o clock! and only half-an-hour before he had been still in the body of the Baron Raoul, as he lay dying in the house of the Cur of Puiseux. Ah! he exclaimed I must find out for certain what has happened! It is not quite three miles to Puiseux and I shall be there in half-an-hour; I should like to ascertain if the Baron is really dead. A melancholy howl made answer to his words; he looked round; his faithful body-guards were back again; he had his pack about him once more. Come, wolves! come, my only friends! he cried, let us be off! And he started with them across the forest in the direction of Puiseux. The huntsmen of the Lord of Vez, who were poking up the remaining embers of the ruined hut, saw a man pass, as in a vision, running at the head of a dozen or more wolves. They crossed themselves, and became more convinced than ever that Thibault was a wizard. And anybody else who had seen Thibault, flying along as swiftly as his swiftest wolf, and covering the ground between Oigny and Puiseux in less than a quarter of an hour, would certainly have thought so too. He stopped at the entrance to the village, and turning to his wolves, he said: Friend wolves, I have no further need of you to-night, and indeed, I wish to be alone. Amuse yourselves with the stables in the neighbourhood, I give you leave to do just what you like; and if you chance to come across one of those two-footed animals, called men, forget, friend wolves, that they claim to be made in the image of their Creator, and never fear to satisfy your appetite. Whereupon the wolves rushed off in different directions, uttering howls of joy, while Thibault went on into the village. The Cur s house adjoined the church, and Thibault made a circuit so as to avoid passing in front of the Cross. When he reached the presbytery, he looked in through one of the windows, and there he saw a bed with a lighted wax candle beside it; and over the bed itself was spread a sheet, and beneath the sheet could be seen the outlines of a figure lying rigid in death. There appeared to be no one in the house; the priest had no doubt gone to give notice of the death to the village authorities. Thibault went inside, and called the priest, but no one answered. He walked up to the bed, there could be no mistake about the body under the sheet being that of a dead man; he lifted the sheet, there could be no mistaking that the dead body was that of Raoul de Vauparfond. On his face lay the still, unearthly beauty which is born of eternity. His features, which in life had been somewhat too feminine for those of a man, had now assumed the sombre grandeur of death. At the first glance you might have thought he only slept; but on gazing longer you recognised in that immovable calm something more profound than sleep. The presence of one who carries a sickle for sceptre, and wears a shroud for mantle was unmistakeable, and you knew King Death was there. Thibault had left the door open, and he heard the sound of light footsteps approaching; at the back of the alcove hung a serge curtain, which masked a door by which he could retreat, if necessary, and he now went and placed himself behind it. A woman dressed in black, and covered with a black veil, paused in some hesitation at the door. The head of another woman passed in front of her s and looked carefully round the room. I think it is safe for Madame to go in; I see no one about, and besides, I will keep watch. The woman in black went in, walked slowly towards the bed, stopped a moment to wipe the perspiration from her forehead, then, without further hesitation, lifted the sheet which Thibault had thrown back over the face of the dead man; Thibault then saw that it was the Countess. Alas! she said, what they told me was true! Then she fell on her knees, praying and sobbing. Her prayer being ended, she rose again, kissed the pale forehead of the dead, and the blue marks of the wound through which the soul had fled. O my well-beloved, my Raoul; she murmured, who will tell me the name of your murderer? who will help me to avenge your death? As the Countess finished speaking, she gave a cry and started back; she seemed to hear a voice that answered, I will! and something had shaken the green serge curtain. The Countess however was no chicken-hearted woman; she took the candle that was burning at the head of the bed and went and looked behind the curtain; but no creature was to be seen, a closed door was all that met her eye. She put back the candle, took a pair of gold scissors from a little pocket case, cut off a curl of the dead man s hair, placed the curl in a black velvet sachet which hung over her heart, gave one last kiss to her dead lover, laid the sheet over his face, and left the house. Just as she was crossing the threshold, she met the priest, and drawing back, drew her veil more closely over her face. Who are you? asked the priest. I am Grief, she answered, and the priest made way for her to pass. The Countess and her attendant had come on foot, and were returning in the same manner, for the distance between Puiseux and Mont-Gobert was not much more than half-a-mile. When about half way along their road, a man, who had been hiding behind a willow tree, stepped forward and barred their further passage. Lisette screamed, but the Countess, without the least sign of fear, went up to the man, and asked: Who are you? The man who answered I will just now, when you were asking who would denounce the murderer to you. And you can help me to revenge myself on him? Whenever you like. At once? We cannot talk here very well. Where can we find a better place? In your own room for one. We must not enter the castle together. No; but I can go through the breach in the park wall: Mademoiselle Lisette can wait for me in the hut where Monsieur Raoul used to leave his horse, she can take me up the winding-stair and into your room. If you should be in your dressing-room, I will wait for you, as Monsieur Raoul waited the night before last. The two women shuddered from head to foot. Who are you to know all these details? asked the Countess. I will tell you when the time comes for me to tell you. The Countess hesitated a moment, then, recovering her resolution, she said: Very well then; come through the breach; Lisette will wait for you in the stable. Oh! Madame, cried the maid, I shall never dare to go and bring that man to you! I will go myself then, said the Countess. Well said! put in Thibault, there spoke a woman worth calling one! And so saying he slid down into a kind of ravine beside the road, and disappeared. Lisette very nearly fainted. Lean on me, Mademoiselle, said the Countess, and let us walk on; I am anxious to hear what this man has to say to me. The two women entered the castle by way of the farm; no one had seen them go out, and no one saw them return. On reaching her room, the Countess waited for Lisette to bring up the stranger. Ten minutes had elapsed when the maid hurried in with a pale face. Ah! Madame, she said, there was no need for me to go to fetch him. What do you mean? asked the Countess. Because he knew his way up as well as I did! And oh! Madame! if you knew what he said to me! That man is the devil, Madame, I feel sure! Show him in, said the Countess. I am here! said Thibault. You can leave us now, my girl, said the Countess to Lisette. The latter quitted the room and the Countess remained alone with Thibault. Thibault s appearance was not one to inspire confidence. He gave the impression of a man who had once and for all made up his mind, but it was also easy to see that it was for no good purpose; a Satanic smile played about his mouth, and there was a demoniacal light in his eyes. He had made no attempt to hide his red hairs, but had left them defiantly uncovered, and they hung over his forehead like a plume of flame. But still the Countess looked him full in the face without changing colour. My maid says that you know the way to my room; have you ever been here before? Yes, Madame, once. And when was that? The day before yesterday. At what time? From half-past ten till half-past twelve at night. The Countess looked steadily at him and said: That is not true. Would you like me to tell you what took place? During the time you mention? During the time I mention. Say on, replied the Countess, laconically. Thibault was equally laconic. Monsieur Raoul came in by that door, he said, pointing to the one leading into the corridor, and Lisette left him here alone. You entered the room by that one, he continued, indicating the dressing-room door, and you found him on his knees. Your hair was unbound, only fastened back by three diamond pins, you wore a pink silk dressing-gown, trimmed with lace, pink silk stockings, cloth-of-silver slippers and a chain of pearls round your neck. You describe my dress exactly, said the Countess, continue. You tried to pick a quarrel with Monsieur Raoul, first because he loitered in the corridors to kiss your waiting-maid; secondly, because someone had met him late at night on the road between Erneville and Villers-Cotterets; thirdly, because, at the ball given at the Castle, at which you yourself were not present, he danced four times with Madame de Bonneuil. Continue. In answer to your accusations, your lover made excuses for himself, some good, some bad; you, however, were satisfied with them for you were just forgiving him when Lisette rushed in full of alarm calling to Monsieur Raoul to escape, as your husband had just returned. Lisette was right, you can be nothing less than the devil, said the Countess with a sinister laugh, and I think we shall be able to do business together.... Finish your account. Then you and your maid together pushed Monsieur Raoul, who resisted, into the dressing-room; Lisette forced him along the corridors and through two or three rooms; they then went down a winding staircase, in the wing of the Castle opposite to the one by which they had gone up. On arriving at the foot of the staircase, the fugitives found the door locked; then they ran into a kind of office where Lisette opened the window, which was about seven or eight feet above the ground. Monsieur Raoul leaped down out of this window, ran to the stable, found his horse still there, but hamstrung; then he swore that if he met the Count at any time he would hamstring him as the Count had hamstrung his horse, for he thought it a cowardly act to injure a poor beast so unnecessarily. Then he went on foot to the breach, climbed it, and found the Count awaiting him outside the park, with his sword drawn. The Baron had his hunting-knife with him; he drew it, and the duel began. Was the Count alone? Wait ... the Count appeared to be alone; after the fourth or fifth pass the Count was wounded in the shoulder, and sank on one knee, crying: help, Lestocq! Then the Baron remembered his oath, and hamstrung the Count as he had hamstrung the horse; but as the Baron rose, Lestocq drove his knife into his back; it passed under the shoulder blade and out through the chest. I need not tell you where ... you kissed the wound yourself. And after that? The Count and his huntsman returned to the Castle, leaving the Baron lying helpless; when the latter came to, he made signs to some passing peasants, who put him on a litter, and bore him away, with the intention of taking him to Villers-Cotterets; but he was in such pain, that they could not carry him farther than Puiseux; there they laid him on the bed where you found him, and on which he breathed his last a second after the half hour after nine in the evening. The Countess rose, and without speaking, went to her jewel-case and took out the pearls she had worn two nights before. She handed them to Thibault. What are they for? he asked. Take them, said the Countess, they are worth fifty thousand livres. Are you still anxious for revenge? Yes, replied the Countess. Revenge will cost more than that. How much will it cost? Wait for me to-morrow night, said Thibault, and I will tell you. Where shall I await you? asked the Countess. Here, said Thibault, with the leer of a wild animal. I will await you here, said the Countess. Till to-morrow then. Till to-morrow. Thibault went out. The Countess went and replaced the pearls in her dressing case; lifted up a false bottom, and drew from underneath it a small bottle containing an opal-coloured liquid, and a little dagger with a jewelled handle and case, and a blade inlaid with gold. She hid both beneath her pillow, knelt at her prie-dieu, and, her prayer finished, threw herself dressed on to her bed.... CHAPTER XX TRUE TO TRYST On quitting the Countess s room, Thibault had left the castle by the way which he had described to her, and soon found himself safe beyond its walls and outside the park. And now, for the first time in his life, Thibault had really nowhere to go. His hut was burnt, he was without a friend, and like Cain, he was a wanderer on the face of the earth. He turned to the unfailing shelter of the forest, and there made his way to the lower end of Chavigny; as the day was breaking he came across a solitary house, and asked if he could buy some bread. The woman belonging to it, her husband being away, gave him some, but refused to receive payment for it; his appearance frightened her. Having now food sufficient for the day, Thibault returned to the forest, with the intention of spending his time till evening in a part which he knew between Fleury and Longpont, where the trees were especially thick and tall. As he was looking for a resting place behind a rock, his eye was attracted by a shining object lying at the bottom of a slope, and his curiosity led him to climb down and see what it was. The shining object was the silver badge belonging to a huntsman s shoulder-belt; the shoulder-belt was slung round the neck of a dead body, or rather of a skeleton, for the flesh had been entirely eaten off the bones, which were as clean as if prepared for an anatomist s study or a painter s studio. The skeleton looked as if it had only lain there since the preceding night. Ah! ah! said Thibault, this is probably the work of my friends, the wolves; they evidently profited by the permission which I gave them. Curious to know if possible who the victim was, he examined it more closely; his curiosity was soon satisfied, for the badge, which the wolves had no doubt rejected as less easily digestible than the rest, was lying on the chest of the skeleton, like a ticket on a bale of goods. J. B. LESTOCQ, Head Keeper to the Comte de Mont-Gobert. Well done! laughed Thibault, here is one at least who did not live long to enjoy the result of his murderous act. Then, contracting his brow, he muttered to himself, in a low voice, and this time without laughing: Is there perhaps, after all, what people call a Providence? Lestocq s death was not difficult to account for. He had probably been executing some order for his master that night, and on the road between Mont-Gobert and Longpont, had been attacked by wolves. He had defended himself with the same knife with which he had wounded the Baron, for Thibault found the knife a few paces off, at a spot where the ground showed traces of a severe struggle; at last, being disarmed, the ferocious beasts had dragged him into the hollow, and there devoured him. Thibault was becoming so indifferent to everything that he felt neither pleasure nor regret, neither satisfaction nor remorse, at Lestocq s death; all he thought was, that it simplified matters for the Countess, as she would now only have her husband upon whom she need revenge herself. Then he went and found a place where the rocks afforded him the best shelter from the wind, and prepared to spend his day there in peace. Towards mid-day, he heard the horn of the Lord of Vez, and the cry of his hounds; the mighty huntsman was after game, but the chase did not pass near enough to Thibault to disturb him. At last the night came. At nine o clock Thibault rose and set out for the Castle of Mont-Gobert. He found the breach, followed the path he knew, and came to the little hut where Lisette had been awaiting him on the night when he had come in the guise of Raoul. The poor girl was there this evening, but alarmed and trembling. Thibault wished to carry out the old traditions and tried to kiss her, but she sprang back with visible signs of fear. Do not touch me, she said, or I shall call out. Oh, indeed! my pretty one, said Thibault, you were not so sour-tempered the other day with the Baron Raoul. May be not, said the girl, but a great many things have happened since the other day. And many more to happen still, said Thibault in a lively tone. I think, said the waiting-maid in a mournful voice, that the climax is already reached. Then, as she went on in front. If you wish to come, she added, follow me. Thibault followed her; Lisette, without the slightest effort at concealment, walked straight across the open space that lay between the trees and the castle. You are courageous to-day, said Thibault, and supposing some one were to see us.... There is no fear now, she answered, the eyes that could have seen us are all closed. Although he did not understand what the young girl meant by these words, the tone in which they were spoken made Thibault shiver. He continued to follow her in silence as they went up the winding-stairs to the first floor. As Lisette laid her hand on the key of the door, Thibault suddenly stopped her. Something in the silence and solitude of the castle filled him with fear; it seemed as if a curse might have fallen on the place. Where are we going? said Thibault, scarcely knowing himself what he said. You know well enough, surely. Into the Countess s room? Into the Countess s room. She is waiting for me? She is waiting for you. And Lisette opened the door. Go in, she said. Thibault went in, and Lisette shut the door behind him and waited outside. It was the same exquisite room, lighted in the same manner, filled with the same sweet scent. Thibault looked round for the Countess, he expected to see her appear at the dressing-room door, but the door remained closed. Not a sound was to be heard in the room, except the ticking of the S vres clock, and the beating of Thibault s heart. He began to look about him with a feeling of shuddering fear for which he could not account; then his eyes fell on the bed; the Countess was lying asleep upon it. In her hair were the same diamond pins, round her neck the same pearls; she was dressed in the same pink silk dressing-gown, and had on the same little slippers of cloth of silver which she had worn to receive the Baron Raoul.

existence

How many times the word 'existence' appears in the text?

thus within its cell. But he could still hear the priest, who not only spoke to him, but endeavoured by shaking him to arouse him from his lethargy. Thibault found this very fatiguing, and it was lucky for the priest that the wounded man, just now, had no superhuman power, for he inwardly sent the good man to the devil, many times over. Before long it seemed to him that some sort of hot burning pan was being inserted under the soles of his feet, his loins, his head; his blood began to circulate, then to boil, like water over a fire. His ideas became confused, his clenched jaws opened; his tongue which had been bound became loosened; some disconnected words escaped him. Ah, ah! he thought to himself, this no doubt is what the good doctor spoke about as delirium; and, for the while at least, this was his last lucid idea. His whole life--and his life had really only existed since his first acquaintance with the black wolf--passed before him. He saw himself following, and failing to hit the buck; saw himself tied to the oak-tree, and the blows of the strap falling on him; saw himself and the black wolf drawing up their compact; saw himself trying to pass the devil s ring over Agnelette s finger; saw himself trying to pull out the red hairs, which now covered a third of his head. Then he saw himself on his way to pay court to the pretty Madame Polet of the mill, meeting Landry, and getting rid of his rival; pursued by the farm servants, and followed by his wolves. He saw himself making the acquaintance of Madame Magloire, hunting for her, eating his share of the game, hiding behind the curtains, discovered by Ma tre Magloire, flouted by the Baron of Vez, turned out by all three. Again he saw the hollow tree, with his wolves couching around it and the owls perched on its branches, and heard the sounds of the approaching violins and hautboy and saw himself looking, as Agnelette and the happy wedding party went by. He saw himself the victim of angry jealousy, endeavouring to fight against it by the help of drink, and across his troubled brain came the recollection of Fran ois, of Champagne, and the Inn-keeper; he heard the galloping of Baron Raoul s horse, and he felt himself knocked down and rolling in the muddy road. Then he ceased to see himself as Thibault; in his stead arose the figure of the handsome young rider whose form he had taken for a while. Once more he was kissing Lisette, once more his lips were touching the Countess s hand; then he was wanting to escape, but he found himself at a cross-road where three ways only met, and each of these was guarded by one of his victims: the first, by the spectre of a drowned man, that was Marcotte; the second, by a young man dying of fever on a hospital bed, that was Landry; the third, by a wounded man, dragging himself along on one knee, and trying in vain to stand up on his mutilated leg, that was the Comte de Mont-Gobert. He fancied that as all these things passed before him, he told the history of them one by one, and that the priest, as he listened to this strange confession, looked more like a dying man, was paler and more trembling than the man whose confession he was listening to; that he wanted to give him absolution, but that he, Thibault, pushed him away, shaking his head, and that he cried out with a terrible laugh: I want no absolution! I am damned! damned! damned! And in the midst of all this hallucination, this delirious madness, the spirit of Thibault could hear the priest s clock striking the hours, and as they struck he counted them. Only this clock seemed to have grown to gigantic proportions and the face of it was the blue vault of heaven, and the numbers on it were flames; and the clock was called eternity, and the monstrous pendulum, as it swung backwards and forwards called out in turn at every beat: Never! For ever! And so he lay and heard the long hours of the day pass one by one; and then at last the clock struck nine. At half past nine, he, Thibault, would have been Raoul, and Raoul would have been Thibault, for just four and twenty hours. As the last stroke of the hour died away, Thibault felt the fever passing from him, it was succeeded by a sensation of coldness, which almost amounted to shivering. He opened his eyes, all trembling with cold, and saw the priest at the foot of the bed saying the prayers for the dying, and the hands of the actual clock pointing to a quarter past nine. His senses had become so acute, that, imperceptible as was their double movement, he could yet see both the larger and smaller one slowly creeping along; they were gradually nearing the critical hour; half past nine! Although the face of the clock was in darkness, it seemed illuminated by some inward light. As the minute hand approached the number 6, a spasm becoming every instant more and more violent shook the dying man; his feet were like ice, and the numbness slowly, but steadily, mounted from the feet to the knees, from the knees to the thighs, from the thighs to the lower part of the body. The sweat was running down his forehead, but he had no strength to wipe it away, nor even to ask to have it done. It was a sweat of agony which he knew every moment might be the sweat of death. All kinds of strange shapes, which had nothing of the human about them, floated before his eyes; the light faded away; wings as of bats seemed to lift his body and carry it into some twilight region, which was neither life nor death, but seemed a part of both. Then the twilight itself grew darker and darker; his eyes closed, and like a blind man stumbling in the dark, his heavy wings seemed to flap against strange and unknown things. After that he sank away into unfathomable depths, into bottomless abysses, but still he heard the sound of a bell. The bell rang once, and scarcely had it ceased to vibrate when the dying man uttered a cry. The priest rose and went to the side of the bed; with that cry the Baron Raoul had breathed his last: it was exactly one second after the half hour after nine. CHAPTER XIX THE DEAD AND THE LIVING At the same moment that the trembling soul of the young Baron passed away, Thibault, awaking as if from an agitated sleep full of terrible dreams, sat up in his bed. He was surrounded by fire, every corner of his hut was in flames; at first he thought it was a continuation of his nightmare, but then he heard cries of, Death to the wizard! death to the sorcerer! death to the were-wolf! and he understood that some terrible attack was being made upon him. The flames came nearer, they reached the bed, he felt their heat upon him; a few seconds more and he would be burned alive in the midst of the flaming pile. Thibault leaped from his bed, seized his boar-spear, and dashed out of the back door of his hut. No sooner did his enemies see him rush through the fire and emerge from the smoke than their cries of death to him! death! were redoubled. One or two shots were fired at him; Thibault heard the bullets whizz past; those who shot at him wore the livery of the Grand Master, and Thibault recalled the menace of the lord of Vez, uttered against him a few days before. He was then beyond the pale of the law; he could be smoked out of his hole like a fox; he could be shot down like a buck. Luckily for Thibault, not one of the bullets struck him, and as the circle of fire made by the burning hut was not a large one, he was soon safely beyond it, and once again in shelter of the vast and gloomy forest, where, had it not been for the cries of the menials who were burning down his house, the silence would have been as complete as the darkness. He sat down at the foot of a tree and buried his head in his hands. The events of the last forty-eight hours had succeeded each other with such rapidity, that there was no lack of matter to serve as subjects of reflection to the shoe-maker. The twenty-four hours, during which he had lived another existence than his own, seemed to him like a dream, so much so, that he would not have dared to take his oath that all this recent affair between the Baron, and the Countess Jane, and the Comte de Mont-Gobert had really taken place. The church clock of Oigny struck ten, and he lifted his head. Ten o clock! and only half-an-hour before he had been still in the body of the Baron Raoul, as he lay dying in the house of the Cur of Puiseux. Ah! he exclaimed I must find out for certain what has happened! It is not quite three miles to Puiseux and I shall be there in half-an-hour; I should like to ascertain if the Baron is really dead. A melancholy howl made answer to his words; he looked round; his faithful body-guards were back again; he had his pack about him once more. Come, wolves! come, my only friends! he cried, let us be off! And he started with them across the forest in the direction of Puiseux. The huntsmen of the Lord of Vez, who were poking up the remaining embers of the ruined hut, saw a man pass, as in a vision, running at the head of a dozen or more wolves. They crossed themselves, and became more convinced than ever that Thibault was a wizard. And anybody else who had seen Thibault, flying along as swiftly as his swiftest wolf, and covering the ground between Oigny and Puiseux in less than a quarter of an hour, would certainly have thought so too. He stopped at the entrance to the village, and turning to his wolves, he said: Friend wolves, I have no further need of you to-night, and indeed, I wish to be alone. Amuse yourselves with the stables in the neighbourhood, I give you leave to do just what you like; and if you chance to come across one of those two-footed animals, called men, forget, friend wolves, that they claim to be made in the image of their Creator, and never fear to satisfy your appetite. Whereupon the wolves rushed off in different directions, uttering howls of joy, while Thibault went on into the village. The Cur s house adjoined the church, and Thibault made a circuit so as to avoid passing in front of the Cross. When he reached the presbytery, he looked in through one of the windows, and there he saw a bed with a lighted wax candle beside it; and over the bed itself was spread a sheet, and beneath the sheet could be seen the outlines of a figure lying rigid in death. There appeared to be no one in the house; the priest had no doubt gone to give notice of the death to the village authorities. Thibault went inside, and called the priest, but no one answered. He walked up to the bed, there could be no mistake about the body under the sheet being that of a dead man; he lifted the sheet, there could be no mistaking that the dead body was that of Raoul de Vauparfond. On his face lay the still, unearthly beauty which is born of eternity. His features, which in life had been somewhat too feminine for those of a man, had now assumed the sombre grandeur of death. At the first glance you might have thought he only slept; but on gazing longer you recognised in that immovable calm something more profound than sleep. The presence of one who carries a sickle for sceptre, and wears a shroud for mantle was unmistakeable, and you knew King Death was there. Thibault had left the door open, and he heard the sound of light footsteps approaching; at the back of the alcove hung a serge curtain, which masked a door by which he could retreat, if necessary, and he now went and placed himself behind it. A woman dressed in black, and covered with a black veil, paused in some hesitation at the door. The head of another woman passed in front of her s and looked carefully round the room. I think it is safe for Madame to go in; I see no one about, and besides, I will keep watch. The woman in black went in, walked slowly towards the bed, stopped a moment to wipe the perspiration from her forehead, then, without further hesitation, lifted the sheet which Thibault had thrown back over the face of the dead man; Thibault then saw that it was the Countess. Alas! she said, what they told me was true! Then she fell on her knees, praying and sobbing. Her prayer being ended, she rose again, kissed the pale forehead of the dead, and the blue marks of the wound through which the soul had fled. O my well-beloved, my Raoul; she murmured, who will tell me the name of your murderer? who will help me to avenge your death? As the Countess finished speaking, she gave a cry and started back; she seemed to hear a voice that answered, I will! and something had shaken the green serge curtain. The Countess however was no chicken-hearted woman; she took the candle that was burning at the head of the bed and went and looked behind the curtain; but no creature was to be seen, a closed door was all that met her eye. She put back the candle, took a pair of gold scissors from a little pocket case, cut off a curl of the dead man s hair, placed the curl in a black velvet sachet which hung over her heart, gave one last kiss to her dead lover, laid the sheet over his face, and left the house. Just as she was crossing the threshold, she met the priest, and drawing back, drew her veil more closely over her face. Who are you? asked the priest. I am Grief, she answered, and the priest made way for her to pass. The Countess and her attendant had come on foot, and were returning in the same manner, for the distance between Puiseux and Mont-Gobert was not much more than half-a-mile. When about half way along their road, a man, who had been hiding behind a willow tree, stepped forward and barred their further passage. Lisette screamed, but the Countess, without the least sign of fear, went up to the man, and asked: Who are you? The man who answered I will just now, when you were asking who would denounce the murderer to you. And you can help me to revenge myself on him? Whenever you like. At once? We cannot talk here very well. Where can we find a better place? In your own room for one. We must not enter the castle together. No; but I can go through the breach in the park wall: Mademoiselle Lisette can wait for me in the hut where Monsieur Raoul used to leave his horse, she can take me up the winding-stair and into your room. If you should be in your dressing-room, I will wait for you, as Monsieur Raoul waited the night before last. The two women shuddered from head to foot. Who are you to know all these details? asked the Countess. I will tell you when the time comes for me to tell you. The Countess hesitated a moment, then, recovering her resolution, she said: Very well then; come through the breach; Lisette will wait for you in the stable. Oh! Madame, cried the maid, I shall never dare to go and bring that man to you! I will go myself then, said the Countess. Well said! put in Thibault, there spoke a woman worth calling one! And so saying he slid down into a kind of ravine beside the road, and disappeared. Lisette very nearly fainted. Lean on me, Mademoiselle, said the Countess, and let us walk on; I am anxious to hear what this man has to say to me. The two women entered the castle by way of the farm; no one had seen them go out, and no one saw them return. On reaching her room, the Countess waited for Lisette to bring up the stranger. Ten minutes had elapsed when the maid hurried in with a pale face. Ah! Madame, she said, there was no need for me to go to fetch him. What do you mean? asked the Countess. Because he knew his way up as well as I did! And oh! Madame! if you knew what he said to me! That man is the devil, Madame, I feel sure! Show him in, said the Countess. I am here! said Thibault. You can leave us now, my girl, said the Countess to Lisette. The latter quitted the room and the Countess remained alone with Thibault. Thibault s appearance was not one to inspire confidence. He gave the impression of a man who had once and for all made up his mind, but it was also easy to see that it was for no good purpose; a Satanic smile played about his mouth, and there was a demoniacal light in his eyes. He had made no attempt to hide his red hairs, but had left them defiantly uncovered, and they hung over his forehead like a plume of flame. But still the Countess looked him full in the face without changing colour. My maid says that you know the way to my room; have you ever been here before? Yes, Madame, once. And when was that? The day before yesterday. At what time? From half-past ten till half-past twelve at night. The Countess looked steadily at him and said: That is not true. Would you like me to tell you what took place? During the time you mention? During the time I mention. Say on, replied the Countess, laconically. Thibault was equally laconic. Monsieur Raoul came in by that door, he said, pointing to the one leading into the corridor, and Lisette left him here alone. You entered the room by that one, he continued, indicating the dressing-room door, and you found him on his knees. Your hair was unbound, only fastened back by three diamond pins, you wore a pink silk dressing-gown, trimmed with lace, pink silk stockings, cloth-of-silver slippers and a chain of pearls round your neck. You describe my dress exactly, said the Countess, continue. You tried to pick a quarrel with Monsieur Raoul, first because he loitered in the corridors to kiss your waiting-maid; secondly, because someone had met him late at night on the road between Erneville and Villers-Cotterets; thirdly, because, at the ball given at the Castle, at which you yourself were not present, he danced four times with Madame de Bonneuil. Continue. In answer to your accusations, your lover made excuses for himself, some good, some bad; you, however, were satisfied with them for you were just forgiving him when Lisette rushed in full of alarm calling to Monsieur Raoul to escape, as your husband had just returned. Lisette was right, you can be nothing less than the devil, said the Countess with a sinister laugh, and I think we shall be able to do business together.... Finish your account. Then you and your maid together pushed Monsieur Raoul, who resisted, into the dressing-room; Lisette forced him along the corridors and through two or three rooms; they then went down a winding staircase, in the wing of the Castle opposite to the one by which they had gone up. On arriving at the foot of the staircase, the fugitives found the door locked; then they ran into a kind of office where Lisette opened the window, which was about seven or eight feet above the ground. Monsieur Raoul leaped down out of this window, ran to the stable, found his horse still there, but hamstrung; then he swore that if he met the Count at any time he would hamstring him as the Count had hamstrung his horse, for he thought it a cowardly act to injure a poor beast so unnecessarily. Then he went on foot to the breach, climbed it, and found the Count awaiting him outside the park, with his sword drawn. The Baron had his hunting-knife with him; he drew it, and the duel began. Was the Count alone? Wait ... the Count appeared to be alone; after the fourth or fifth pass the Count was wounded in the shoulder, and sank on one knee, crying: help, Lestocq! Then the Baron remembered his oath, and hamstrung the Count as he had hamstrung the horse; but as the Baron rose, Lestocq drove his knife into his back; it passed under the shoulder blade and out through the chest. I need not tell you where ... you kissed the wound yourself. And after that? The Count and his huntsman returned to the Castle, leaving the Baron lying helpless; when the latter came to, he made signs to some passing peasants, who put him on a litter, and bore him away, with the intention of taking him to Villers-Cotterets; but he was in such pain, that they could not carry him farther than Puiseux; there they laid him on the bed where you found him, and on which he breathed his last a second after the half hour after nine in the evening. The Countess rose, and without speaking, went to her jewel-case and took out the pearls she had worn two nights before. She handed them to Thibault. What are they for? he asked. Take them, said the Countess, they are worth fifty thousand livres. Are you still anxious for revenge? Yes, replied the Countess. Revenge will cost more than that. How much will it cost? Wait for me to-morrow night, said Thibault, and I will tell you. Where shall I await you? asked the Countess. Here, said Thibault, with the leer of a wild animal. I will await you here, said the Countess. Till to-morrow then. Till to-morrow. Thibault went out. The Countess went and replaced the pearls in her dressing case; lifted up a false bottom, and drew from underneath it a small bottle containing an opal-coloured liquid, and a little dagger with a jewelled handle and case, and a blade inlaid with gold. She hid both beneath her pillow, knelt at her prie-dieu, and, her prayer finished, threw herself dressed on to her bed.... CHAPTER XX TRUE TO TRYST On quitting the Countess s room, Thibault had left the castle by the way which he had described to her, and soon found himself safe beyond its walls and outside the park. And now, for the first time in his life, Thibault had really nowhere to go. His hut was burnt, he was without a friend, and like Cain, he was a wanderer on the face of the earth. He turned to the unfailing shelter of the forest, and there made his way to the lower end of Chavigny; as the day was breaking he came across a solitary house, and asked if he could buy some bread. The woman belonging to it, her husband being away, gave him some, but refused to receive payment for it; his appearance frightened her. Having now food sufficient for the day, Thibault returned to the forest, with the intention of spending his time till evening in a part which he knew between Fleury and Longpont, where the trees were especially thick and tall. As he was looking for a resting place behind a rock, his eye was attracted by a shining object lying at the bottom of a slope, and his curiosity led him to climb down and see what it was. The shining object was the silver badge belonging to a huntsman s shoulder-belt; the shoulder-belt was slung round the neck of a dead body, or rather of a skeleton, for the flesh had been entirely eaten off the bones, which were as clean as if prepared for an anatomist s study or a painter s studio. The skeleton looked as if it had only lain there since the preceding night. Ah! ah! said Thibault, this is probably the work of my friends, the wolves; they evidently profited by the permission which I gave them. Curious to know if possible who the victim was, he examined it more closely; his curiosity was soon satisfied, for the badge, which the wolves had no doubt rejected as less easily digestible than the rest, was lying on the chest of the skeleton, like a ticket on a bale of goods. J. B. LESTOCQ, Head Keeper to the Comte de Mont-Gobert. Well done! laughed Thibault, here is one at least who did not live long to enjoy the result of his murderous act. Then, contracting his brow, he muttered to himself, in a low voice, and this time without laughing: Is there perhaps, after all, what people call a Providence? Lestocq s death was not difficult to account for. He had probably been executing some order for his master that night, and on the road between Mont-Gobert and Longpont, had been attacked by wolves. He had defended himself with the same knife with which he had wounded the Baron, for Thibault found the knife a few paces off, at a spot where the ground showed traces of a severe struggle; at last, being disarmed, the ferocious beasts had dragged him into the hollow, and there devoured him. Thibault was becoming so indifferent to everything that he felt neither pleasure nor regret, neither satisfaction nor remorse, at Lestocq s death; all he thought was, that it simplified matters for the Countess, as she would now only have her husband upon whom she need revenge herself. Then he went and found a place where the rocks afforded him the best shelter from the wind, and prepared to spend his day there in peace. Towards mid-day, he heard the horn of the Lord of Vez, and the cry of his hounds; the mighty huntsman was after game, but the chase did not pass near enough to Thibault to disturb him. At last the night came. At nine o clock Thibault rose and set out for the Castle of Mont-Gobert. He found the breach, followed the path he knew, and came to the little hut where Lisette had been awaiting him on the night when he had come in the guise of Raoul. The poor girl was there this evening, but alarmed and trembling. Thibault wished to carry out the old traditions and tried to kiss her, but she sprang back with visible signs of fear. Do not touch me, she said, or I shall call out. Oh, indeed! my pretty one, said Thibault, you were not so sour-tempered the other day with the Baron Raoul. May be not, said the girl, but a great many things have happened since the other day. And many more to happen still, said Thibault in a lively tone. I think, said the waiting-maid in a mournful voice, that the climax is already reached. Then, as she went on in front. If you wish to come, she added, follow me. Thibault followed her; Lisette, without the slightest effort at concealment, walked straight across the open space that lay between the trees and the castle. You are courageous to-day, said Thibault, and supposing some one were to see us.... There is no fear now, she answered, the eyes that could have seen us are all closed. Although he did not understand what the young girl meant by these words, the tone in which they were spoken made Thibault shiver. He continued to follow her in silence as they went up the winding-stairs to the first floor. As Lisette laid her hand on the key of the door, Thibault suddenly stopped her. Something in the silence and solitude of the castle filled him with fear; it seemed as if a curse might have fallen on the place. Where are we going? said Thibault, scarcely knowing himself what he said. You know well enough, surely. Into the Countess s room? Into the Countess s room. She is waiting for me? She is waiting for you. And Lisette opened the door. Go in, she said. Thibault went in, and Lisette shut the door behind him and waited outside. It was the same exquisite room, lighted in the same manner, filled with the same sweet scent. Thibault looked round for the Countess, he expected to see her appear at the dressing-room door, but the door remained closed. Not a sound was to be heard in the room, except the ticking of the S vres clock, and the beating of Thibault s heart. He began to look about him with a feeling of shuddering fear for which he could not account; then his eyes fell on the bed; the Countess was lying asleep upon it. In her hair were the same diamond pins, round her neck the same pearls; she was dressed in the same pink silk dressing-gown, and had on the same little slippers of cloth of silver which she had worn to receive the Baron Raoul.

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thus within its cell. But he could still hear the priest, who not only spoke to him, but endeavoured by shaking him to arouse him from his lethargy. Thibault found this very fatiguing, and it was lucky for the priest that the wounded man, just now, had no superhuman power, for he inwardly sent the good man to the devil, many times over. Before long it seemed to him that some sort of hot burning pan was being inserted under the soles of his feet, his loins, his head; his blood began to circulate, then to boil, like water over a fire. His ideas became confused, his clenched jaws opened; his tongue which had been bound became loosened; some disconnected words escaped him. Ah, ah! he thought to himself, this no doubt is what the good doctor spoke about as delirium; and, for the while at least, this was his last lucid idea. His whole life--and his life had really only existed since his first acquaintance with the black wolf--passed before him. He saw himself following, and failing to hit the buck; saw himself tied to the oak-tree, and the blows of the strap falling on him; saw himself and the black wolf drawing up their compact; saw himself trying to pass the devil s ring over Agnelette s finger; saw himself trying to pull out the red hairs, which now covered a third of his head. Then he saw himself on his way to pay court to the pretty Madame Polet of the mill, meeting Landry, and getting rid of his rival; pursued by the farm servants, and followed by his wolves. He saw himself making the acquaintance of Madame Magloire, hunting for her, eating his share of the game, hiding behind the curtains, discovered by Ma tre Magloire, flouted by the Baron of Vez, turned out by all three. Again he saw the hollow tree, with his wolves couching around it and the owls perched on its branches, and heard the sounds of the approaching violins and hautboy and saw himself looking, as Agnelette and the happy wedding party went by. He saw himself the victim of angry jealousy, endeavouring to fight against it by the help of drink, and across his troubled brain came the recollection of Fran ois, of Champagne, and the Inn-keeper; he heard the galloping of Baron Raoul s horse, and he felt himself knocked down and rolling in the muddy road. Then he ceased to see himself as Thibault; in his stead arose the figure of the handsome young rider whose form he had taken for a while. Once more he was kissing Lisette, once more his lips were touching the Countess s hand; then he was wanting to escape, but he found himself at a cross-road where three ways only met, and each of these was guarded by one of his victims: the first, by the spectre of a drowned man, that was Marcotte; the second, by a young man dying of fever on a hospital bed, that was Landry; the third, by a wounded man, dragging himself along on one knee, and trying in vain to stand up on his mutilated leg, that was the Comte de Mont-Gobert. He fancied that as all these things passed before him, he told the history of them one by one, and that the priest, as he listened to this strange confession, looked more like a dying man, was paler and more trembling than the man whose confession he was listening to; that he wanted to give him absolution, but that he, Thibault, pushed him away, shaking his head, and that he cried out with a terrible laugh: I want no absolution! I am damned! damned! damned! And in the midst of all this hallucination, this delirious madness, the spirit of Thibault could hear the priest s clock striking the hours, and as they struck he counted them. Only this clock seemed to have grown to gigantic proportions and the face of it was the blue vault of heaven, and the numbers on it were flames; and the clock was called eternity, and the monstrous pendulum, as it swung backwards and forwards called out in turn at every beat: Never! For ever! And so he lay and heard the long hours of the day pass one by one; and then at last the clock struck nine. At half past nine, he, Thibault, would have been Raoul, and Raoul would have been Thibault, for just four and twenty hours. As the last stroke of the hour died away, Thibault felt the fever passing from him, it was succeeded by a sensation of coldness, which almost amounted to shivering. He opened his eyes, all trembling with cold, and saw the priest at the foot of the bed saying the prayers for the dying, and the hands of the actual clock pointing to a quarter past nine. His senses had become so acute, that, imperceptible as was their double movement, he could yet see both the larger and smaller one slowly creeping along; they were gradually nearing the critical hour; half past nine! Although the face of the clock was in darkness, it seemed illuminated by some inward light. As the minute hand approached the number 6, a spasm becoming every instant more and more violent shook the dying man; his feet were like ice, and the numbness slowly, but steadily, mounted from the feet to the knees, from the knees to the thighs, from the thighs to the lower part of the body. The sweat was running down his forehead, but he had no strength to wipe it away, nor even to ask to have it done. It was a sweat of agony which he knew every moment might be the sweat of death. All kinds of strange shapes, which had nothing of the human about them, floated before his eyes; the light faded away; wings as of bats seemed to lift his body and carry it into some twilight region, which was neither life nor death, but seemed a part of both. Then the twilight itself grew darker and darker; his eyes closed, and like a blind man stumbling in the dark, his heavy wings seemed to flap against strange and unknown things. After that he sank away into unfathomable depths, into bottomless abysses, but still he heard the sound of a bell. The bell rang once, and scarcely had it ceased to vibrate when the dying man uttered a cry. The priest rose and went to the side of the bed; with that cry the Baron Raoul had breathed his last: it was exactly one second after the half hour after nine. CHAPTER XIX THE DEAD AND THE LIVING At the same moment that the trembling soul of the young Baron passed away, Thibault, awaking as if from an agitated sleep full of terrible dreams, sat up in his bed. He was surrounded by fire, every corner of his hut was in flames; at first he thought it was a continuation of his nightmare, but then he heard cries of, Death to the wizard! death to the sorcerer! death to the were-wolf! and he understood that some terrible attack was being made upon him. The flames came nearer, they reached the bed, he felt their heat upon him; a few seconds more and he would be burned alive in the midst of the flaming pile. Thibault leaped from his bed, seized his boar-spear, and dashed out of the back door of his hut. No sooner did his enemies see him rush through the fire and emerge from the smoke than their cries of death to him! death! were redoubled. One or two shots were fired at him; Thibault heard the bullets whizz past; those who shot at him wore the livery of the Grand Master, and Thibault recalled the menace of the lord of Vez, uttered against him a few days before. He was then beyond the pale of the law; he could be smoked out of his hole like a fox; he could be shot down like a buck. Luckily for Thibault, not one of the bullets struck him, and as the circle of fire made by the burning hut was not a large one, he was soon safely beyond it, and once again in shelter of the vast and gloomy forest, where, had it not been for the cries of the menials who were burning down his house, the silence would have been as complete as the darkness. He sat down at the foot of a tree and buried his head in his hands. The events of the last forty-eight hours had succeeded each other with such rapidity, that there was no lack of matter to serve as subjects of reflection to the shoe-maker. The twenty-four hours, during which he had lived another existence than his own, seemed to him like a dream, so much so, that he would not have dared to take his oath that all this recent affair between the Baron, and the Countess Jane, and the Comte de Mont-Gobert had really taken place. The church clock of Oigny struck ten, and he lifted his head. Ten o clock! and only half-an-hour before he had been still in the body of the Baron Raoul, as he lay dying in the house of the Cur of Puiseux. Ah! he exclaimed I must find out for certain what has happened! It is not quite three miles to Puiseux and I shall be there in half-an-hour; I should like to ascertain if the Baron is really dead. A melancholy howl made answer to his words; he looked round; his faithful body-guards were back again; he had his pack about him once more. Come, wolves! come, my only friends! he cried, let us be off! And he started with them across the forest in the direction of Puiseux. The huntsmen of the Lord of Vez, who were poking up the remaining embers of the ruined hut, saw a man pass, as in a vision, running at the head of a dozen or more wolves. They crossed themselves, and became more convinced than ever that Thibault was a wizard. And anybody else who had seen Thibault, flying along as swiftly as his swiftest wolf, and covering the ground between Oigny and Puiseux in less than a quarter of an hour, would certainly have thought so too. He stopped at the entrance to the village, and turning to his wolves, he said: Friend wolves, I have no further need of you to-night, and indeed, I wish to be alone. Amuse yourselves with the stables in the neighbourhood, I give you leave to do just what you like; and if you chance to come across one of those two-footed animals, called men, forget, friend wolves, that they claim to be made in the image of their Creator, and never fear to satisfy your appetite. Whereupon the wolves rushed off in different directions, uttering howls of joy, while Thibault went on into the village. The Cur s house adjoined the church, and Thibault made a circuit so as to avoid passing in front of the Cross. When he reached the presbytery, he looked in through one of the windows, and there he saw a bed with a lighted wax candle beside it; and over the bed itself was spread a sheet, and beneath the sheet could be seen the outlines of a figure lying rigid in death. There appeared to be no one in the house; the priest had no doubt gone to give notice of the death to the village authorities. Thibault went inside, and called the priest, but no one answered. He walked up to the bed, there could be no mistake about the body under the sheet being that of a dead man; he lifted the sheet, there could be no mistaking that the dead body was that of Raoul de Vauparfond. On his face lay the still, unearthly beauty which is born of eternity. His features, which in life had been somewhat too feminine for those of a man, had now assumed the sombre grandeur of death. At the first glance you might have thought he only slept; but on gazing longer you recognised in that immovable calm something more profound than sleep. The presence of one who carries a sickle for sceptre, and wears a shroud for mantle was unmistakeable, and you knew King Death was there. Thibault had left the door open, and he heard the sound of light footsteps approaching; at the back of the alcove hung a serge curtain, which masked a door by which he could retreat, if necessary, and he now went and placed himself behind it. A woman dressed in black, and covered with a black veil, paused in some hesitation at the door. The head of another woman passed in front of her s and looked carefully round the room. I think it is safe for Madame to go in; I see no one about, and besides, I will keep watch. The woman in black went in, walked slowly towards the bed, stopped a moment to wipe the perspiration from her forehead, then, without further hesitation, lifted the sheet which Thibault had thrown back over the face of the dead man; Thibault then saw that it was the Countess. Alas! she said, what they told me was true! Then she fell on her knees, praying and sobbing. Her prayer being ended, she rose again, kissed the pale forehead of the dead, and the blue marks of the wound through which the soul had fled. O my well-beloved, my Raoul; she murmured, who will tell me the name of your murderer? who will help me to avenge your death? As the Countess finished speaking, she gave a cry and started back; she seemed to hear a voice that answered, I will! and something had shaken the green serge curtain. The Countess however was no chicken-hearted woman; she took the candle that was burning at the head of the bed and went and looked behind the curtain; but no creature was to be seen, a closed door was all that met her eye. She put back the candle, took a pair of gold scissors from a little pocket case, cut off a curl of the dead man s hair, placed the curl in a black velvet sachet which hung over her heart, gave one last kiss to her dead lover, laid the sheet over his face, and left the house. Just as she was crossing the threshold, she met the priest, and drawing back, drew her veil more closely over her face. Who are you? asked the priest. I am Grief, she answered, and the priest made way for her to pass. The Countess and her attendant had come on foot, and were returning in the same manner, for the distance between Puiseux and Mont-Gobert was not much more than half-a-mile. When about half way along their road, a man, who had been hiding behind a willow tree, stepped forward and barred their further passage. Lisette screamed, but the Countess, without the least sign of fear, went up to the man, and asked: Who are you? The man who answered I will just now, when you were asking who would denounce the murderer to you. And you can help me to revenge myself on him? Whenever you like. At once? We cannot talk here very well. Where can we find a better place? In your own room for one. We must not enter the castle together. No; but I can go through the breach in the park wall: Mademoiselle Lisette can wait for me in the hut where Monsieur Raoul used to leave his horse, she can take me up the winding-stair and into your room. If you should be in your dressing-room, I will wait for you, as Monsieur Raoul waited the night before last. The two women shuddered from head to foot. Who are you to know all these details? asked the Countess. I will tell you when the time comes for me to tell you. The Countess hesitated a moment, then, recovering her resolution, she said: Very well then; come through the breach; Lisette will wait for you in the stable. Oh! Madame, cried the maid, I shall never dare to go and bring that man to you! I will go myself then, said the Countess. Well said! put in Thibault, there spoke a woman worth calling one! And so saying he slid down into a kind of ravine beside the road, and disappeared. Lisette very nearly fainted. Lean on me, Mademoiselle, said the Countess, and let us walk on; I am anxious to hear what this man has to say to me. The two women entered the castle by way of the farm; no one had seen them go out, and no one saw them return. On reaching her room, the Countess waited for Lisette to bring up the stranger. Ten minutes had elapsed when the maid hurried in with a pale face. Ah! Madame, she said, there was no need for me to go to fetch him. What do you mean? asked the Countess. Because he knew his way up as well as I did! And oh! Madame! if you knew what he said to me! That man is the devil, Madame, I feel sure! Show him in, said the Countess. I am here! said Thibault. You can leave us now, my girl, said the Countess to Lisette. The latter quitted the room and the Countess remained alone with Thibault. Thibault s appearance was not one to inspire confidence. He gave the impression of a man who had once and for all made up his mind, but it was also easy to see that it was for no good purpose; a Satanic smile played about his mouth, and there was a demoniacal light in his eyes. He had made no attempt to hide his red hairs, but had left them defiantly uncovered, and they hung over his forehead like a plume of flame. But still the Countess looked him full in the face without changing colour. My maid says that you know the way to my room; have you ever been here before? Yes, Madame, once. And when was that? The day before yesterday. At what time? From half-past ten till half-past twelve at night. The Countess looked steadily at him and said: That is not true. Would you like me to tell you what took place? During the time you mention? During the time I mention. Say on, replied the Countess, laconically. Thibault was equally laconic. Monsieur Raoul came in by that door, he said, pointing to the one leading into the corridor, and Lisette left him here alone. You entered the room by that one, he continued, indicating the dressing-room door, and you found him on his knees. Your hair was unbound, only fastened back by three diamond pins, you wore a pink silk dressing-gown, trimmed with lace, pink silk stockings, cloth-of-silver slippers and a chain of pearls round your neck. You describe my dress exactly, said the Countess, continue. You tried to pick a quarrel with Monsieur Raoul, first because he loitered in the corridors to kiss your waiting-maid; secondly, because someone had met him late at night on the road between Erneville and Villers-Cotterets; thirdly, because, at the ball given at the Castle, at which you yourself were not present, he danced four times with Madame de Bonneuil. Continue. In answer to your accusations, your lover made excuses for himself, some good, some bad; you, however, were satisfied with them for you were just forgiving him when Lisette rushed in full of alarm calling to Monsieur Raoul to escape, as your husband had just returned. Lisette was right, you can be nothing less than the devil, said the Countess with a sinister laugh, and I think we shall be able to do business together.... Finish your account. Then you and your maid together pushed Monsieur Raoul, who resisted, into the dressing-room; Lisette forced him along the corridors and through two or three rooms; they then went down a winding staircase, in the wing of the Castle opposite to the one by which they had gone up. On arriving at the foot of the staircase, the fugitives found the door locked; then they ran into a kind of office where Lisette opened the window, which was about seven or eight feet above the ground. Monsieur Raoul leaped down out of this window, ran to the stable, found his horse still there, but hamstrung; then he swore that if he met the Count at any time he would hamstring him as the Count had hamstrung his horse, for he thought it a cowardly act to injure a poor beast so unnecessarily. Then he went on foot to the breach, climbed it, and found the Count awaiting him outside the park, with his sword drawn. The Baron had his hunting-knife with him; he drew it, and the duel began. Was the Count alone? Wait ... the Count appeared to be alone; after the fourth or fifth pass the Count was wounded in the shoulder, and sank on one knee, crying: help, Lestocq! Then the Baron remembered his oath, and hamstrung the Count as he had hamstrung the horse; but as the Baron rose, Lestocq drove his knife into his back; it passed under the shoulder blade and out through the chest. I need not tell you where ... you kissed the wound yourself. And after that? The Count and his huntsman returned to the Castle, leaving the Baron lying helpless; when the latter came to, he made signs to some passing peasants, who put him on a litter, and bore him away, with the intention of taking him to Villers-Cotterets; but he was in such pain, that they could not carry him farther than Puiseux; there they laid him on the bed where you found him, and on which he breathed his last a second after the half hour after nine in the evening. The Countess rose, and without speaking, went to her jewel-case and took out the pearls she had worn two nights before. She handed them to Thibault. What are they for? he asked. Take them, said the Countess, they are worth fifty thousand livres. Are you still anxious for revenge? Yes, replied the Countess. Revenge will cost more than that. How much will it cost? Wait for me to-morrow night, said Thibault, and I will tell you. Where shall I await you? asked the Countess. Here, said Thibault, with the leer of a wild animal. I will await you here, said the Countess. Till to-morrow then. Till to-morrow. Thibault went out. The Countess went and replaced the pearls in her dressing case; lifted up a false bottom, and drew from underneath it a small bottle containing an opal-coloured liquid, and a little dagger with a jewelled handle and case, and a blade inlaid with gold. She hid both beneath her pillow, knelt at her prie-dieu, and, her prayer finished, threw herself dressed on to her bed.... CHAPTER XX TRUE TO TRYST On quitting the Countess s room, Thibault had left the castle by the way which he had described to her, and soon found himself safe beyond its walls and outside the park. And now, for the first time in his life, Thibault had really nowhere to go. His hut was burnt, he was without a friend, and like Cain, he was a wanderer on the face of the earth. He turned to the unfailing shelter of the forest, and there made his way to the lower end of Chavigny; as the day was breaking he came across a solitary house, and asked if he could buy some bread. The woman belonging to it, her husband being away, gave him some, but refused to receive payment for it; his appearance frightened her. Having now food sufficient for the day, Thibault returned to the forest, with the intention of spending his time till evening in a part which he knew between Fleury and Longpont, where the trees were especially thick and tall. As he was looking for a resting place behind a rock, his eye was attracted by a shining object lying at the bottom of a slope, and his curiosity led him to climb down and see what it was. The shining object was the silver badge belonging to a huntsman s shoulder-belt; the shoulder-belt was slung round the neck of a dead body, or rather of a skeleton, for the flesh had been entirely eaten off the bones, which were as clean as if prepared for an anatomist s study or a painter s studio. The skeleton looked as if it had only lain there since the preceding night. Ah! ah! said Thibault, this is probably the work of my friends, the wolves; they evidently profited by the permission which I gave them. Curious to know if possible who the victim was, he examined it more closely; his curiosity was soon satisfied, for the badge, which the wolves had no doubt rejected as less easily digestible than the rest, was lying on the chest of the skeleton, like a ticket on a bale of goods. J. B. LESTOCQ, Head Keeper to the Comte de Mont-Gobert. Well done! laughed Thibault, here is one at least who did not live long to enjoy the result of his murderous act. Then, contracting his brow, he muttered to himself, in a low voice, and this time without laughing: Is there perhaps, after all, what people call a Providence? Lestocq s death was not difficult to account for. He had probably been executing some order for his master that night, and on the road between Mont-Gobert and Longpont, had been attacked by wolves. He had defended himself with the same knife with which he had wounded the Baron, for Thibault found the knife a few paces off, at a spot where the ground showed traces of a severe struggle; at last, being disarmed, the ferocious beasts had dragged him into the hollow, and there devoured him. Thibault was becoming so indifferent to everything that he felt neither pleasure nor regret, neither satisfaction nor remorse, at Lestocq s death; all he thought was, that it simplified matters for the Countess, as she would now only have her husband upon whom she need revenge herself. Then he went and found a place where the rocks afforded him the best shelter from the wind, and prepared to spend his day there in peace. Towards mid-day, he heard the horn of the Lord of Vez, and the cry of his hounds; the mighty huntsman was after game, but the chase did not pass near enough to Thibault to disturb him. At last the night came. At nine o clock Thibault rose and set out for the Castle of Mont-Gobert. He found the breach, followed the path he knew, and came to the little hut where Lisette had been awaiting him on the night when he had come in the guise of Raoul. The poor girl was there this evening, but alarmed and trembling. Thibault wished to carry out the old traditions and tried to kiss her, but she sprang back with visible signs of fear. Do not touch me, she said, or I shall call out. Oh, indeed! my pretty one, said Thibault, you were not so sour-tempered the other day with the Baron Raoul. May be not, said the girl, but a great many things have happened since the other day. And many more to happen still, said Thibault in a lively tone. I think, said the waiting-maid in a mournful voice, that the climax is already reached. Then, as she went on in front. If you wish to come, she added, follow me. Thibault followed her; Lisette, without the slightest effort at concealment, walked straight across the open space that lay between the trees and the castle. You are courageous to-day, said Thibault, and supposing some one were to see us.... There is no fear now, she answered, the eyes that could have seen us are all closed. Although he did not understand what the young girl meant by these words, the tone in which they were spoken made Thibault shiver. He continued to follow her in silence as they went up the winding-stairs to the first floor. As Lisette laid her hand on the key of the door, Thibault suddenly stopped her. Something in the silence and solitude of the castle filled him with fear; it seemed as if a curse might have fallen on the place. Where are we going? said Thibault, scarcely knowing himself what he said. You know well enough, surely. Into the Countess s room? Into the Countess s room. She is waiting for me? She is waiting for you. And Lisette opened the door. Go in, she said. Thibault went in, and Lisette shut the door behind him and waited outside. It was the same exquisite room, lighted in the same manner, filled with the same sweet scent. Thibault looked round for the Countess, he expected to see her appear at the dressing-room door, but the door remained closed. Not a sound was to be heard in the room, except the ticking of the S vres clock, and the beating of Thibault s heart. He began to look about him with a feeling of shuddering fear for which he could not account; then his eyes fell on the bed; the Countess was lying asleep upon it. In her hair were the same diamond pins, round her neck the same pearls; she was dressed in the same pink silk dressing-gown, and had on the same little slippers of cloth of silver which she had worn to receive the Baron Raoul.

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thus within its cell. But he could still hear the priest, who not only spoke to him, but endeavoured by shaking him to arouse him from his lethargy. Thibault found this very fatiguing, and it was lucky for the priest that the wounded man, just now, had no superhuman power, for he inwardly sent the good man to the devil, many times over. Before long it seemed to him that some sort of hot burning pan was being inserted under the soles of his feet, his loins, his head; his blood began to circulate, then to boil, like water over a fire. His ideas became confused, his clenched jaws opened; his tongue which had been bound became loosened; some disconnected words escaped him. Ah, ah! he thought to himself, this no doubt is what the good doctor spoke about as delirium; and, for the while at least, this was his last lucid idea. His whole life--and his life had really only existed since his first acquaintance with the black wolf--passed before him. He saw himself following, and failing to hit the buck; saw himself tied to the oak-tree, and the blows of the strap falling on him; saw himself and the black wolf drawing up their compact; saw himself trying to pass the devil s ring over Agnelette s finger; saw himself trying to pull out the red hairs, which now covered a third of his head. Then he saw himself on his way to pay court to the pretty Madame Polet of the mill, meeting Landry, and getting rid of his rival; pursued by the farm servants, and followed by his wolves. He saw himself making the acquaintance of Madame Magloire, hunting for her, eating his share of the game, hiding behind the curtains, discovered by Ma tre Magloire, flouted by the Baron of Vez, turned out by all three. Again he saw the hollow tree, with his wolves couching around it and the owls perched on its branches, and heard the sounds of the approaching violins and hautboy and saw himself looking, as Agnelette and the happy wedding party went by. He saw himself the victim of angry jealousy, endeavouring to fight against it by the help of drink, and across his troubled brain came the recollection of Fran ois, of Champagne, and the Inn-keeper; he heard the galloping of Baron Raoul s horse, and he felt himself knocked down and rolling in the muddy road. Then he ceased to see himself as Thibault; in his stead arose the figure of the handsome young rider whose form he had taken for a while. Once more he was kissing Lisette, once more his lips were touching the Countess s hand; then he was wanting to escape, but he found himself at a cross-road where three ways only met, and each of these was guarded by one of his victims: the first, by the spectre of a drowned man, that was Marcotte; the second, by a young man dying of fever on a hospital bed, that was Landry; the third, by a wounded man, dragging himself along on one knee, and trying in vain to stand up on his mutilated leg, that was the Comte de Mont-Gobert. He fancied that as all these things passed before him, he told the history of them one by one, and that the priest, as he listened to this strange confession, looked more like a dying man, was paler and more trembling than the man whose confession he was listening to; that he wanted to give him absolution, but that he, Thibault, pushed him away, shaking his head, and that he cried out with a terrible laugh: I want no absolution! I am damned! damned! damned! And in the midst of all this hallucination, this delirious madness, the spirit of Thibault could hear the priest s clock striking the hours, and as they struck he counted them. Only this clock seemed to have grown to gigantic proportions and the face of it was the blue vault of heaven, and the numbers on it were flames; and the clock was called eternity, and the monstrous pendulum, as it swung backwards and forwards called out in turn at every beat: Never! For ever! And so he lay and heard the long hours of the day pass one by one; and then at last the clock struck nine. At half past nine, he, Thibault, would have been Raoul, and Raoul would have been Thibault, for just four and twenty hours. As the last stroke of the hour died away, Thibault felt the fever passing from him, it was succeeded by a sensation of coldness, which almost amounted to shivering. He opened his eyes, all trembling with cold, and saw the priest at the foot of the bed saying the prayers for the dying, and the hands of the actual clock pointing to a quarter past nine. His senses had become so acute, that, imperceptible as was their double movement, he could yet see both the larger and smaller one slowly creeping along; they were gradually nearing the critical hour; half past nine! Although the face of the clock was in darkness, it seemed illuminated by some inward light. As the minute hand approached the number 6, a spasm becoming every instant more and more violent shook the dying man; his feet were like ice, and the numbness slowly, but steadily, mounted from the feet to the knees, from the knees to the thighs, from the thighs to the lower part of the body. The sweat was running down his forehead, but he had no strength to wipe it away, nor even to ask to have it done. It was a sweat of agony which he knew every moment might be the sweat of death. All kinds of strange shapes, which had nothing of the human about them, floated before his eyes; the light faded away; wings as of bats seemed to lift his body and carry it into some twilight region, which was neither life nor death, but seemed a part of both. Then the twilight itself grew darker and darker; his eyes closed, and like a blind man stumbling in the dark, his heavy wings seemed to flap against strange and unknown things. After that he sank away into unfathomable depths, into bottomless abysses, but still he heard the sound of a bell. The bell rang once, and scarcely had it ceased to vibrate when the dying man uttered a cry. The priest rose and went to the side of the bed; with that cry the Baron Raoul had breathed his last: it was exactly one second after the half hour after nine. CHAPTER XIX THE DEAD AND THE LIVING At the same moment that the trembling soul of the young Baron passed away, Thibault, awaking as if from an agitated sleep full of terrible dreams, sat up in his bed. He was surrounded by fire, every corner of his hut was in flames; at first he thought it was a continuation of his nightmare, but then he heard cries of, Death to the wizard! death to the sorcerer! death to the were-wolf! and he understood that some terrible attack was being made upon him. The flames came nearer, they reached the bed, he felt their heat upon him; a few seconds more and he would be burned alive in the midst of the flaming pile. Thibault leaped from his bed, seized his boar-spear, and dashed out of the back door of his hut. No sooner did his enemies see him rush through the fire and emerge from the smoke than their cries of death to him! death! were redoubled. One or two shots were fired at him; Thibault heard the bullets whizz past; those who shot at him wore the livery of the Grand Master, and Thibault recalled the menace of the lord of Vez, uttered against him a few days before. He was then beyond the pale of the law; he could be smoked out of his hole like a fox; he could be shot down like a buck. Luckily for Thibault, not one of the bullets struck him, and as the circle of fire made by the burning hut was not a large one, he was soon safely beyond it, and once again in shelter of the vast and gloomy forest, where, had it not been for the cries of the menials who were burning down his house, the silence would have been as complete as the darkness. He sat down at the foot of a tree and buried his head in his hands. The events of the last forty-eight hours had succeeded each other with such rapidity, that there was no lack of matter to serve as subjects of reflection to the shoe-maker. The twenty-four hours, during which he had lived another existence than his own, seemed to him like a dream, so much so, that he would not have dared to take his oath that all this recent affair between the Baron, and the Countess Jane, and the Comte de Mont-Gobert had really taken place. The church clock of Oigny struck ten, and he lifted his head. Ten o clock! and only half-an-hour before he had been still in the body of the Baron Raoul, as he lay dying in the house of the Cur of Puiseux. Ah! he exclaimed I must find out for certain what has happened! It is not quite three miles to Puiseux and I shall be there in half-an-hour; I should like to ascertain if the Baron is really dead. A melancholy howl made answer to his words; he looked round; his faithful body-guards were back again; he had his pack about him once more. Come, wolves! come, my only friends! he cried, let us be off! And he started with them across the forest in the direction of Puiseux. The huntsmen of the Lord of Vez, who were poking up the remaining embers of the ruined hut, saw a man pass, as in a vision, running at the head of a dozen or more wolves. They crossed themselves, and became more convinced than ever that Thibault was a wizard. And anybody else who had seen Thibault, flying along as swiftly as his swiftest wolf, and covering the ground between Oigny and Puiseux in less than a quarter of an hour, would certainly have thought so too. He stopped at the entrance to the village, and turning to his wolves, he said: Friend wolves, I have no further need of you to-night, and indeed, I wish to be alone. Amuse yourselves with the stables in the neighbourhood, I give you leave to do just what you like; and if you chance to come across one of those two-footed animals, called men, forget, friend wolves, that they claim to be made in the image of their Creator, and never fear to satisfy your appetite. Whereupon the wolves rushed off in different directions, uttering howls of joy, while Thibault went on into the village. The Cur s house adjoined the church, and Thibault made a circuit so as to avoid passing in front of the Cross. When he reached the presbytery, he looked in through one of the windows, and there he saw a bed with a lighted wax candle beside it; and over the bed itself was spread a sheet, and beneath the sheet could be seen the outlines of a figure lying rigid in death. There appeared to be no one in the house; the priest had no doubt gone to give notice of the death to the village authorities. Thibault went inside, and called the priest, but no one answered. He walked up to the bed, there could be no mistake about the body under the sheet being that of a dead man; he lifted the sheet, there could be no mistaking that the dead body was that of Raoul de Vauparfond. On his face lay the still, unearthly beauty which is born of eternity. His features, which in life had been somewhat too feminine for those of a man, had now assumed the sombre grandeur of death. At the first glance you might have thought he only slept; but on gazing longer you recognised in that immovable calm something more profound than sleep. The presence of one who carries a sickle for sceptre, and wears a shroud for mantle was unmistakeable, and you knew King Death was there. Thibault had left the door open, and he heard the sound of light footsteps approaching; at the back of the alcove hung a serge curtain, which masked a door by which he could retreat, if necessary, and he now went and placed himself behind it. A woman dressed in black, and covered with a black veil, paused in some hesitation at the door. The head of another woman passed in front of her s and looked carefully round the room. I think it is safe for Madame to go in; I see no one about, and besides, I will keep watch. The woman in black went in, walked slowly towards the bed, stopped a moment to wipe the perspiration from her forehead, then, without further hesitation, lifted the sheet which Thibault had thrown back over the face of the dead man; Thibault then saw that it was the Countess. Alas! she said, what they told me was true! Then she fell on her knees, praying and sobbing. Her prayer being ended, she rose again, kissed the pale forehead of the dead, and the blue marks of the wound through which the soul had fled. O my well-beloved, my Raoul; she murmured, who will tell me the name of your murderer? who will help me to avenge your death? As the Countess finished speaking, she gave a cry and started back; she seemed to hear a voice that answered, I will! and something had shaken the green serge curtain. The Countess however was no chicken-hearted woman; she took the candle that was burning at the head of the bed and went and looked behind the curtain; but no creature was to be seen, a closed door was all that met her eye. She put back the candle, took a pair of gold scissors from a little pocket case, cut off a curl of the dead man s hair, placed the curl in a black velvet sachet which hung over her heart, gave one last kiss to her dead lover, laid the sheet over his face, and left the house. Just as she was crossing the threshold, she met the priest, and drawing back, drew her veil more closely over her face. Who are you? asked the priest. I am Grief, she answered, and the priest made way for her to pass. The Countess and her attendant had come on foot, and were returning in the same manner, for the distance between Puiseux and Mont-Gobert was not much more than half-a-mile. When about half way along their road, a man, who had been hiding behind a willow tree, stepped forward and barred their further passage. Lisette screamed, but the Countess, without the least sign of fear, went up to the man, and asked: Who are you? The man who answered I will just now, when you were asking who would denounce the murderer to you. And you can help me to revenge myself on him? Whenever you like. At once? We cannot talk here very well. Where can we find a better place? In your own room for one. We must not enter the castle together. No; but I can go through the breach in the park wall: Mademoiselle Lisette can wait for me in the hut where Monsieur Raoul used to leave his horse, she can take me up the winding-stair and into your room. If you should be in your dressing-room, I will wait for you, as Monsieur Raoul waited the night before last. The two women shuddered from head to foot. Who are you to know all these details? asked the Countess. I will tell you when the time comes for me to tell you. The Countess hesitated a moment, then, recovering her resolution, she said: Very well then; come through the breach; Lisette will wait for you in the stable. Oh! Madame, cried the maid, I shall never dare to go and bring that man to you! I will go myself then, said the Countess. Well said! put in Thibault, there spoke a woman worth calling one! And so saying he slid down into a kind of ravine beside the road, and disappeared. Lisette very nearly fainted. Lean on me, Mademoiselle, said the Countess, and let us walk on; I am anxious to hear what this man has to say to me. The two women entered the castle by way of the farm; no one had seen them go out, and no one saw them return. On reaching her room, the Countess waited for Lisette to bring up the stranger. Ten minutes had elapsed when the maid hurried in with a pale face. Ah! Madame, she said, there was no need for me to go to fetch him. What do you mean? asked the Countess. Because he knew his way up as well as I did! And oh! Madame! if you knew what he said to me! That man is the devil, Madame, I feel sure! Show him in, said the Countess. I am here! said Thibault. You can leave us now, my girl, said the Countess to Lisette. The latter quitted the room and the Countess remained alone with Thibault. Thibault s appearance was not one to inspire confidence. He gave the impression of a man who had once and for all made up his mind, but it was also easy to see that it was for no good purpose; a Satanic smile played about his mouth, and there was a demoniacal light in his eyes. He had made no attempt to hide his red hairs, but had left them defiantly uncovered, and they hung over his forehead like a plume of flame. But still the Countess looked him full in the face without changing colour. My maid says that you know the way to my room; have you ever been here before? Yes, Madame, once. And when was that? The day before yesterday. At what time? From half-past ten till half-past twelve at night. The Countess looked steadily at him and said: That is not true. Would you like me to tell you what took place? During the time you mention? During the time I mention. Say on, replied the Countess, laconically. Thibault was equally laconic. Monsieur Raoul came in by that door, he said, pointing to the one leading into the corridor, and Lisette left him here alone. You entered the room by that one, he continued, indicating the dressing-room door, and you found him on his knees. Your hair was unbound, only fastened back by three diamond pins, you wore a pink silk dressing-gown, trimmed with lace, pink silk stockings, cloth-of-silver slippers and a chain of pearls round your neck. You describe my dress exactly, said the Countess, continue. You tried to pick a quarrel with Monsieur Raoul, first because he loitered in the corridors to kiss your waiting-maid; secondly, because someone had met him late at night on the road between Erneville and Villers-Cotterets; thirdly, because, at the ball given at the Castle, at which you yourself were not present, he danced four times with Madame de Bonneuil. Continue. In answer to your accusations, your lover made excuses for himself, some good, some bad; you, however, were satisfied with them for you were just forgiving him when Lisette rushed in full of alarm calling to Monsieur Raoul to escape, as your husband had just returned. Lisette was right, you can be nothing less than the devil, said the Countess with a sinister laugh, and I think we shall be able to do business together.... Finish your account. Then you and your maid together pushed Monsieur Raoul, who resisted, into the dressing-room; Lisette forced him along the corridors and through two or three rooms; they then went down a winding staircase, in the wing of the Castle opposite to the one by which they had gone up. On arriving at the foot of the staircase, the fugitives found the door locked; then they ran into a kind of office where Lisette opened the window, which was about seven or eight feet above the ground. Monsieur Raoul leaped down out of this window, ran to the stable, found his horse still there, but hamstrung; then he swore that if he met the Count at any time he would hamstring him as the Count had hamstrung his horse, for he thought it a cowardly act to injure a poor beast so unnecessarily. Then he went on foot to the breach, climbed it, and found the Count awaiting him outside the park, with his sword drawn. The Baron had his hunting-knife with him; he drew it, and the duel began. Was the Count alone? Wait ... the Count appeared to be alone; after the fourth or fifth pass the Count was wounded in the shoulder, and sank on one knee, crying: help, Lestocq! Then the Baron remembered his oath, and hamstrung the Count as he had hamstrung the horse; but as the Baron rose, Lestocq drove his knife into his back; it passed under the shoulder blade and out through the chest. I need not tell you where ... you kissed the wound yourself. And after that? The Count and his huntsman returned to the Castle, leaving the Baron lying helpless; when the latter came to, he made signs to some passing peasants, who put him on a litter, and bore him away, with the intention of taking him to Villers-Cotterets; but he was in such pain, that they could not carry him farther than Puiseux; there they laid him on the bed where you found him, and on which he breathed his last a second after the half hour after nine in the evening. The Countess rose, and without speaking, went to her jewel-case and took out the pearls she had worn two nights before. She handed them to Thibault. What are they for? he asked. Take them, said the Countess, they are worth fifty thousand livres. Are you still anxious for revenge? Yes, replied the Countess. Revenge will cost more than that. How much will it cost? Wait for me to-morrow night, said Thibault, and I will tell you. Where shall I await you? asked the Countess. Here, said Thibault, with the leer of a wild animal. I will await you here, said the Countess. Till to-morrow then. Till to-morrow. Thibault went out. The Countess went and replaced the pearls in her dressing case; lifted up a false bottom, and drew from underneath it a small bottle containing an opal-coloured liquid, and a little dagger with a jewelled handle and case, and a blade inlaid with gold. She hid both beneath her pillow, knelt at her prie-dieu, and, her prayer finished, threw herself dressed on to her bed.... CHAPTER XX TRUE TO TRYST On quitting the Countess s room, Thibault had left the castle by the way which he had described to her, and soon found himself safe beyond its walls and outside the park. And now, for the first time in his life, Thibault had really nowhere to go. His hut was burnt, he was without a friend, and like Cain, he was a wanderer on the face of the earth. He turned to the unfailing shelter of the forest, and there made his way to the lower end of Chavigny; as the day was breaking he came across a solitary house, and asked if he could buy some bread. The woman belonging to it, her husband being away, gave him some, but refused to receive payment for it; his appearance frightened her. Having now food sufficient for the day, Thibault returned to the forest, with the intention of spending his time till evening in a part which he knew between Fleury and Longpont, where the trees were especially thick and tall. As he was looking for a resting place behind a rock, his eye was attracted by a shining object lying at the bottom of a slope, and his curiosity led him to climb down and see what it was. The shining object was the silver badge belonging to a huntsman s shoulder-belt; the shoulder-belt was slung round the neck of a dead body, or rather of a skeleton, for the flesh had been entirely eaten off the bones, which were as clean as if prepared for an anatomist s study or a painter s studio. The skeleton looked as if it had only lain there since the preceding night. Ah! ah! said Thibault, this is probably the work of my friends, the wolves; they evidently profited by the permission which I gave them. Curious to know if possible who the victim was, he examined it more closely; his curiosity was soon satisfied, for the badge, which the wolves had no doubt rejected as less easily digestible than the rest, was lying on the chest of the skeleton, like a ticket on a bale of goods. J. B. LESTOCQ, Head Keeper to the Comte de Mont-Gobert. Well done! laughed Thibault, here is one at least who did not live long to enjoy the result of his murderous act. Then, contracting his brow, he muttered to himself, in a low voice, and this time without laughing: Is there perhaps, after all, what people call a Providence? Lestocq s death was not difficult to account for. He had probably been executing some order for his master that night, and on the road between Mont-Gobert and Longpont, had been attacked by wolves. He had defended himself with the same knife with which he had wounded the Baron, for Thibault found the knife a few paces off, at a spot where the ground showed traces of a severe struggle; at last, being disarmed, the ferocious beasts had dragged him into the hollow, and there devoured him. Thibault was becoming so indifferent to everything that he felt neither pleasure nor regret, neither satisfaction nor remorse, at Lestocq s death; all he thought was, that it simplified matters for the Countess, as she would now only have her husband upon whom she need revenge herself. Then he went and found a place where the rocks afforded him the best shelter from the wind, and prepared to spend his day there in peace. Towards mid-day, he heard the horn of the Lord of Vez, and the cry of his hounds; the mighty huntsman was after game, but the chase did not pass near enough to Thibault to disturb him. At last the night came. At nine o clock Thibault rose and set out for the Castle of Mont-Gobert. He found the breach, followed the path he knew, and came to the little hut where Lisette had been awaiting him on the night when he had come in the guise of Raoul. The poor girl was there this evening, but alarmed and trembling. Thibault wished to carry out the old traditions and tried to kiss her, but she sprang back with visible signs of fear. Do not touch me, she said, or I shall call out. Oh, indeed! my pretty one, said Thibault, you were not so sour-tempered the other day with the Baron Raoul. May be not, said the girl, but a great many things have happened since the other day. And many more to happen still, said Thibault in a lively tone. I think, said the waiting-maid in a mournful voice, that the climax is already reached. Then, as she went on in front. If you wish to come, she added, follow me. Thibault followed her; Lisette, without the slightest effort at concealment, walked straight across the open space that lay between the trees and the castle. You are courageous to-day, said Thibault, and supposing some one were to see us.... There is no fear now, she answered, the eyes that could have seen us are all closed. Although he did not understand what the young girl meant by these words, the tone in which they were spoken made Thibault shiver. He continued to follow her in silence as they went up the winding-stairs to the first floor. As Lisette laid her hand on the key of the door, Thibault suddenly stopped her. Something in the silence and solitude of the castle filled him with fear; it seemed as if a curse might have fallen on the place. Where are we going? said Thibault, scarcely knowing himself what he said. You know well enough, surely. Into the Countess s room? Into the Countess s room. She is waiting for me? She is waiting for you. And Lisette opened the door. Go in, she said. Thibault went in, and Lisette shut the door behind him and waited outside. It was the same exquisite room, lighted in the same manner, filled with the same sweet scent. Thibault looked round for the Countess, he expected to see her appear at the dressing-room door, but the door remained closed. Not a sound was to be heard in the room, except the ticking of the S vres clock, and the beating of Thibault s heart. He began to look about him with a feeling of shuddering fear for which he could not account; then his eyes fell on the bed; the Countess was lying asleep upon it. In her hair were the same diamond pins, round her neck the same pearls; she was dressed in the same pink silk dressing-gown, and had on the same little slippers of cloth of silver which she had worn to receive the Baron Raoul.

phone

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thus within its cell. But he could still hear the priest, who not only spoke to him, but endeavoured by shaking him to arouse him from his lethargy. Thibault found this very fatiguing, and it was lucky for the priest that the wounded man, just now, had no superhuman power, for he inwardly sent the good man to the devil, many times over. Before long it seemed to him that some sort of hot burning pan was being inserted under the soles of his feet, his loins, his head; his blood began to circulate, then to boil, like water over a fire. His ideas became confused, his clenched jaws opened; his tongue which had been bound became loosened; some disconnected words escaped him. Ah, ah! he thought to himself, this no doubt is what the good doctor spoke about as delirium; and, for the while at least, this was his last lucid idea. His whole life--and his life had really only existed since his first acquaintance with the black wolf--passed before him. He saw himself following, and failing to hit the buck; saw himself tied to the oak-tree, and the blows of the strap falling on him; saw himself and the black wolf drawing up their compact; saw himself trying to pass the devil s ring over Agnelette s finger; saw himself trying to pull out the red hairs, which now covered a third of his head. Then he saw himself on his way to pay court to the pretty Madame Polet of the mill, meeting Landry, and getting rid of his rival; pursued by the farm servants, and followed by his wolves. He saw himself making the acquaintance of Madame Magloire, hunting for her, eating his share of the game, hiding behind the curtains, discovered by Ma tre Magloire, flouted by the Baron of Vez, turned out by all three. Again he saw the hollow tree, with his wolves couching around it and the owls perched on its branches, and heard the sounds of the approaching violins and hautboy and saw himself looking, as Agnelette and the happy wedding party went by. He saw himself the victim of angry jealousy, endeavouring to fight against it by the help of drink, and across his troubled brain came the recollection of Fran ois, of Champagne, and the Inn-keeper; he heard the galloping of Baron Raoul s horse, and he felt himself knocked down and rolling in the muddy road. Then he ceased to see himself as Thibault; in his stead arose the figure of the handsome young rider whose form he had taken for a while. Once more he was kissing Lisette, once more his lips were touching the Countess s hand; then he was wanting to escape, but he found himself at a cross-road where three ways only met, and each of these was guarded by one of his victims: the first, by the spectre of a drowned man, that was Marcotte; the second, by a young man dying of fever on a hospital bed, that was Landry; the third, by a wounded man, dragging himself along on one knee, and trying in vain to stand up on his mutilated leg, that was the Comte de Mont-Gobert. He fancied that as all these things passed before him, he told the history of them one by one, and that the priest, as he listened to this strange confession, looked more like a dying man, was paler and more trembling than the man whose confession he was listening to; that he wanted to give him absolution, but that he, Thibault, pushed him away, shaking his head, and that he cried out with a terrible laugh: I want no absolution! I am damned! damned! damned! And in the midst of all this hallucination, this delirious madness, the spirit of Thibault could hear the priest s clock striking the hours, and as they struck he counted them. Only this clock seemed to have grown to gigantic proportions and the face of it was the blue vault of heaven, and the numbers on it were flames; and the clock was called eternity, and the monstrous pendulum, as it swung backwards and forwards called out in turn at every beat: Never! For ever! And so he lay and heard the long hours of the day pass one by one; and then at last the clock struck nine. At half past nine, he, Thibault, would have been Raoul, and Raoul would have been Thibault, for just four and twenty hours. As the last stroke of the hour died away, Thibault felt the fever passing from him, it was succeeded by a sensation of coldness, which almost amounted to shivering. He opened his eyes, all trembling with cold, and saw the priest at the foot of the bed saying the prayers for the dying, and the hands of the actual clock pointing to a quarter past nine. His senses had become so acute, that, imperceptible as was their double movement, he could yet see both the larger and smaller one slowly creeping along; they were gradually nearing the critical hour; half past nine! Although the face of the clock was in darkness, it seemed illuminated by some inward light. As the minute hand approached the number 6, a spasm becoming every instant more and more violent shook the dying man; his feet were like ice, and the numbness slowly, but steadily, mounted from the feet to the knees, from the knees to the thighs, from the thighs to the lower part of the body. The sweat was running down his forehead, but he had no strength to wipe it away, nor even to ask to have it done. It was a sweat of agony which he knew every moment might be the sweat of death. All kinds of strange shapes, which had nothing of the human about them, floated before his eyes; the light faded away; wings as of bats seemed to lift his body and carry it into some twilight region, which was neither life nor death, but seemed a part of both. Then the twilight itself grew darker and darker; his eyes closed, and like a blind man stumbling in the dark, his heavy wings seemed to flap against strange and unknown things. After that he sank away into unfathomable depths, into bottomless abysses, but still he heard the sound of a bell. The bell rang once, and scarcely had it ceased to vibrate when the dying man uttered a cry. The priest rose and went to the side of the bed; with that cry the Baron Raoul had breathed his last: it was exactly one second after the half hour after nine. CHAPTER XIX THE DEAD AND THE LIVING At the same moment that the trembling soul of the young Baron passed away, Thibault, awaking as if from an agitated sleep full of terrible dreams, sat up in his bed. He was surrounded by fire, every corner of his hut was in flames; at first he thought it was a continuation of his nightmare, but then he heard cries of, Death to the wizard! death to the sorcerer! death to the were-wolf! and he understood that some terrible attack was being made upon him. The flames came nearer, they reached the bed, he felt their heat upon him; a few seconds more and he would be burned alive in the midst of the flaming pile. Thibault leaped from his bed, seized his boar-spear, and dashed out of the back door of his hut. No sooner did his enemies see him rush through the fire and emerge from the smoke than their cries of death to him! death! were redoubled. One or two shots were fired at him; Thibault heard the bullets whizz past; those who shot at him wore the livery of the Grand Master, and Thibault recalled the menace of the lord of Vez, uttered against him a few days before. He was then beyond the pale of the law; he could be smoked out of his hole like a fox; he could be shot down like a buck. Luckily for Thibault, not one of the bullets struck him, and as the circle of fire made by the burning hut was not a large one, he was soon safely beyond it, and once again in shelter of the vast and gloomy forest, where, had it not been for the cries of the menials who were burning down his house, the silence would have been as complete as the darkness. He sat down at the foot of a tree and buried his head in his hands. The events of the last forty-eight hours had succeeded each other with such rapidity, that there was no lack of matter to serve as subjects of reflection to the shoe-maker. The twenty-four hours, during which he had lived another existence than his own, seemed to him like a dream, so much so, that he would not have dared to take his oath that all this recent affair between the Baron, and the Countess Jane, and the Comte de Mont-Gobert had really taken place. The church clock of Oigny struck ten, and he lifted his head. Ten o clock! and only half-an-hour before he had been still in the body of the Baron Raoul, as he lay dying in the house of the Cur of Puiseux. Ah! he exclaimed I must find out for certain what has happened! It is not quite three miles to Puiseux and I shall be there in half-an-hour; I should like to ascertain if the Baron is really dead. A melancholy howl made answer to his words; he looked round; his faithful body-guards were back again; he had his pack about him once more. Come, wolves! come, my only friends! he cried, let us be off! And he started with them across the forest in the direction of Puiseux. The huntsmen of the Lord of Vez, who were poking up the remaining embers of the ruined hut, saw a man pass, as in a vision, running at the head of a dozen or more wolves. They crossed themselves, and became more convinced than ever that Thibault was a wizard. And anybody else who had seen Thibault, flying along as swiftly as his swiftest wolf, and covering the ground between Oigny and Puiseux in less than a quarter of an hour, would certainly have thought so too. He stopped at the entrance to the village, and turning to his wolves, he said: Friend wolves, I have no further need of you to-night, and indeed, I wish to be alone. Amuse yourselves with the stables in the neighbourhood, I give you leave to do just what you like; and if you chance to come across one of those two-footed animals, called men, forget, friend wolves, that they claim to be made in the image of their Creator, and never fear to satisfy your appetite. Whereupon the wolves rushed off in different directions, uttering howls of joy, while Thibault went on into the village. The Cur s house adjoined the church, and Thibault made a circuit so as to avoid passing in front of the Cross. When he reached the presbytery, he looked in through one of the windows, and there he saw a bed with a lighted wax candle beside it; and over the bed itself was spread a sheet, and beneath the sheet could be seen the outlines of a figure lying rigid in death. There appeared to be no one in the house; the priest had no doubt gone to give notice of the death to the village authorities. Thibault went inside, and called the priest, but no one answered. He walked up to the bed, there could be no mistake about the body under the sheet being that of a dead man; he lifted the sheet, there could be no mistaking that the dead body was that of Raoul de Vauparfond. On his face lay the still, unearthly beauty which is born of eternity. His features, which in life had been somewhat too feminine for those of a man, had now assumed the sombre grandeur of death. At the first glance you might have thought he only slept; but on gazing longer you recognised in that immovable calm something more profound than sleep. The presence of one who carries a sickle for sceptre, and wears a shroud for mantle was unmistakeable, and you knew King Death was there. Thibault had left the door open, and he heard the sound of light footsteps approaching; at the back of the alcove hung a serge curtain, which masked a door by which he could retreat, if necessary, and he now went and placed himself behind it. A woman dressed in black, and covered with a black veil, paused in some hesitation at the door. The head of another woman passed in front of her s and looked carefully round the room. I think it is safe for Madame to go in; I see no one about, and besides, I will keep watch. The woman in black went in, walked slowly towards the bed, stopped a moment to wipe the perspiration from her forehead, then, without further hesitation, lifted the sheet which Thibault had thrown back over the face of the dead man; Thibault then saw that it was the Countess. Alas! she said, what they told me was true! Then she fell on her knees, praying and sobbing. Her prayer being ended, she rose again, kissed the pale forehead of the dead, and the blue marks of the wound through which the soul had fled. O my well-beloved, my Raoul; she murmured, who will tell me the name of your murderer? who will help me to avenge your death? As the Countess finished speaking, she gave a cry and started back; she seemed to hear a voice that answered, I will! and something had shaken the green serge curtain. The Countess however was no chicken-hearted woman; she took the candle that was burning at the head of the bed and went and looked behind the curtain; but no creature was to be seen, a closed door was all that met her eye. She put back the candle, took a pair of gold scissors from a little pocket case, cut off a curl of the dead man s hair, placed the curl in a black velvet sachet which hung over her heart, gave one last kiss to her dead lover, laid the sheet over his face, and left the house. Just as she was crossing the threshold, she met the priest, and drawing back, drew her veil more closely over her face. Who are you? asked the priest. I am Grief, she answered, and the priest made way for her to pass. The Countess and her attendant had come on foot, and were returning in the same manner, for the distance between Puiseux and Mont-Gobert was not much more than half-a-mile. When about half way along their road, a man, who had been hiding behind a willow tree, stepped forward and barred their further passage. Lisette screamed, but the Countess, without the least sign of fear, went up to the man, and asked: Who are you? The man who answered I will just now, when you were asking who would denounce the murderer to you. And you can help me to revenge myself on him? Whenever you like. At once? We cannot talk here very well. Where can we find a better place? In your own room for one. We must not enter the castle together. No; but I can go through the breach in the park wall: Mademoiselle Lisette can wait for me in the hut where Monsieur Raoul used to leave his horse, she can take me up the winding-stair and into your room. If you should be in your dressing-room, I will wait for you, as Monsieur Raoul waited the night before last. The two women shuddered from head to foot. Who are you to know all these details? asked the Countess. I will tell you when the time comes for me to tell you. The Countess hesitated a moment, then, recovering her resolution, she said: Very well then; come through the breach; Lisette will wait for you in the stable. Oh! Madame, cried the maid, I shall never dare to go and bring that man to you! I will go myself then, said the Countess. Well said! put in Thibault, there spoke a woman worth calling one! And so saying he slid down into a kind of ravine beside the road, and disappeared. Lisette very nearly fainted. Lean on me, Mademoiselle, said the Countess, and let us walk on; I am anxious to hear what this man has to say to me. The two women entered the castle by way of the farm; no one had seen them go out, and no one saw them return. On reaching her room, the Countess waited for Lisette to bring up the stranger. Ten minutes had elapsed when the maid hurried in with a pale face. Ah! Madame, she said, there was no need for me to go to fetch him. What do you mean? asked the Countess. Because he knew his way up as well as I did! And oh! Madame! if you knew what he said to me! That man is the devil, Madame, I feel sure! Show him in, said the Countess. I am here! said Thibault. You can leave us now, my girl, said the Countess to Lisette. The latter quitted the room and the Countess remained alone with Thibault. Thibault s appearance was not one to inspire confidence. He gave the impression of a man who had once and for all made up his mind, but it was also easy to see that it was for no good purpose; a Satanic smile played about his mouth, and there was a demoniacal light in his eyes. He had made no attempt to hide his red hairs, but had left them defiantly uncovered, and they hung over his forehead like a plume of flame. But still the Countess looked him full in the face without changing colour. My maid says that you know the way to my room; have you ever been here before? Yes, Madame, once. And when was that? The day before yesterday. At what time? From half-past ten till half-past twelve at night. The Countess looked steadily at him and said: That is not true. Would you like me to tell you what took place? During the time you mention? During the time I mention. Say on, replied the Countess, laconically. Thibault was equally laconic. Monsieur Raoul came in by that door, he said, pointing to the one leading into the corridor, and Lisette left him here alone. You entered the room by that one, he continued, indicating the dressing-room door, and you found him on his knees. Your hair was unbound, only fastened back by three diamond pins, you wore a pink silk dressing-gown, trimmed with lace, pink silk stockings, cloth-of-silver slippers and a chain of pearls round your neck. You describe my dress exactly, said the Countess, continue. You tried to pick a quarrel with Monsieur Raoul, first because he loitered in the corridors to kiss your waiting-maid; secondly, because someone had met him late at night on the road between Erneville and Villers-Cotterets; thirdly, because, at the ball given at the Castle, at which you yourself were not present, he danced four times with Madame de Bonneuil. Continue. In answer to your accusations, your lover made excuses for himself, some good, some bad; you, however, were satisfied with them for you were just forgiving him when Lisette rushed in full of alarm calling to Monsieur Raoul to escape, as your husband had just returned. Lisette was right, you can be nothing less than the devil, said the Countess with a sinister laugh, and I think we shall be able to do business together.... Finish your account. Then you and your maid together pushed Monsieur Raoul, who resisted, into the dressing-room; Lisette forced him along the corridors and through two or three rooms; they then went down a winding staircase, in the wing of the Castle opposite to the one by which they had gone up. On arriving at the foot of the staircase, the fugitives found the door locked; then they ran into a kind of office where Lisette opened the window, which was about seven or eight feet above the ground. Monsieur Raoul leaped down out of this window, ran to the stable, found his horse still there, but hamstrung; then he swore that if he met the Count at any time he would hamstring him as the Count had hamstrung his horse, for he thought it a cowardly act to injure a poor beast so unnecessarily. Then he went on foot to the breach, climbed it, and found the Count awaiting him outside the park, with his sword drawn. The Baron had his hunting-knife with him; he drew it, and the duel began. Was the Count alone? Wait ... the Count appeared to be alone; after the fourth or fifth pass the Count was wounded in the shoulder, and sank on one knee, crying: help, Lestocq! Then the Baron remembered his oath, and hamstrung the Count as he had hamstrung the horse; but as the Baron rose, Lestocq drove his knife into his back; it passed under the shoulder blade and out through the chest. I need not tell you where ... you kissed the wound yourself. And after that? The Count and his huntsman returned to the Castle, leaving the Baron lying helpless; when the latter came to, he made signs to some passing peasants, who put him on a litter, and bore him away, with the intention of taking him to Villers-Cotterets; but he was in such pain, that they could not carry him farther than Puiseux; there they laid him on the bed where you found him, and on which he breathed his last a second after the half hour after nine in the evening. The Countess rose, and without speaking, went to her jewel-case and took out the pearls she had worn two nights before. She handed them to Thibault. What are they for? he asked. Take them, said the Countess, they are worth fifty thousand livres. Are you still anxious for revenge? Yes, replied the Countess. Revenge will cost more than that. How much will it cost? Wait for me to-morrow night, said Thibault, and I will tell you. Where shall I await you? asked the Countess. Here, said Thibault, with the leer of a wild animal. I will await you here, said the Countess. Till to-morrow then. Till to-morrow. Thibault went out. The Countess went and replaced the pearls in her dressing case; lifted up a false bottom, and drew from underneath it a small bottle containing an opal-coloured liquid, and a little dagger with a jewelled handle and case, and a blade inlaid with gold. She hid both beneath her pillow, knelt at her prie-dieu, and, her prayer finished, threw herself dressed on to her bed.... CHAPTER XX TRUE TO TRYST On quitting the Countess s room, Thibault had left the castle by the way which he had described to her, and soon found himself safe beyond its walls and outside the park. And now, for the first time in his life, Thibault had really nowhere to go. His hut was burnt, he was without a friend, and like Cain, he was a wanderer on the face of the earth. He turned to the unfailing shelter of the forest, and there made his way to the lower end of Chavigny; as the day was breaking he came across a solitary house, and asked if he could buy some bread. The woman belonging to it, her husband being away, gave him some, but refused to receive payment for it; his appearance frightened her. Having now food sufficient for the day, Thibault returned to the forest, with the intention of spending his time till evening in a part which he knew between Fleury and Longpont, where the trees were especially thick and tall. As he was looking for a resting place behind a rock, his eye was attracted by a shining object lying at the bottom of a slope, and his curiosity led him to climb down and see what it was. The shining object was the silver badge belonging to a huntsman s shoulder-belt; the shoulder-belt was slung round the neck of a dead body, or rather of a skeleton, for the flesh had been entirely eaten off the bones, which were as clean as if prepared for an anatomist s study or a painter s studio. The skeleton looked as if it had only lain there since the preceding night. Ah! ah! said Thibault, this is probably the work of my friends, the wolves; they evidently profited by the permission which I gave them. Curious to know if possible who the victim was, he examined it more closely; his curiosity was soon satisfied, for the badge, which the wolves had no doubt rejected as less easily digestible than the rest, was lying on the chest of the skeleton, like a ticket on a bale of goods. J. B. LESTOCQ, Head Keeper to the Comte de Mont-Gobert. Well done! laughed Thibault, here is one at least who did not live long to enjoy the result of his murderous act. Then, contracting his brow, he muttered to himself, in a low voice, and this time without laughing: Is there perhaps, after all, what people call a Providence? Lestocq s death was not difficult to account for. He had probably been executing some order for his master that night, and on the road between Mont-Gobert and Longpont, had been attacked by wolves. He had defended himself with the same knife with which he had wounded the Baron, for Thibault found the knife a few paces off, at a spot where the ground showed traces of a severe struggle; at last, being disarmed, the ferocious beasts had dragged him into the hollow, and there devoured him. Thibault was becoming so indifferent to everything that he felt neither pleasure nor regret, neither satisfaction nor remorse, at Lestocq s death; all he thought was, that it simplified matters for the Countess, as she would now only have her husband upon whom she need revenge herself. Then he went and found a place where the rocks afforded him the best shelter from the wind, and prepared to spend his day there in peace. Towards mid-day, he heard the horn of the Lord of Vez, and the cry of his hounds; the mighty huntsman was after game, but the chase did not pass near enough to Thibault to disturb him. At last the night came. At nine o clock Thibault rose and set out for the Castle of Mont-Gobert. He found the breach, followed the path he knew, and came to the little hut where Lisette had been awaiting him on the night when he had come in the guise of Raoul. The poor girl was there this evening, but alarmed and trembling. Thibault wished to carry out the old traditions and tried to kiss her, but she sprang back with visible signs of fear. Do not touch me, she said, or I shall call out. Oh, indeed! my pretty one, said Thibault, you were not so sour-tempered the other day with the Baron Raoul. May be not, said the girl, but a great many things have happened since the other day. And many more to happen still, said Thibault in a lively tone. I think, said the waiting-maid in a mournful voice, that the climax is already reached. Then, as she went on in front. If you wish to come, she added, follow me. Thibault followed her; Lisette, without the slightest effort at concealment, walked straight across the open space that lay between the trees and the castle. You are courageous to-day, said Thibault, and supposing some one were to see us.... There is no fear now, she answered, the eyes that could have seen us are all closed. Although he did not understand what the young girl meant by these words, the tone in which they were spoken made Thibault shiver. He continued to follow her in silence as they went up the winding-stairs to the first floor. As Lisette laid her hand on the key of the door, Thibault suddenly stopped her. Something in the silence and solitude of the castle filled him with fear; it seemed as if a curse might have fallen on the place. Where are we going? said Thibault, scarcely knowing himself what he said. You know well enough, surely. Into the Countess s room? Into the Countess s room. She is waiting for me? She is waiting for you. And Lisette opened the door. Go in, she said. Thibault went in, and Lisette shut the door behind him and waited outside. It was the same exquisite room, lighted in the same manner, filled with the same sweet scent. Thibault looked round for the Countess, he expected to see her appear at the dressing-room door, but the door remained closed. Not a sound was to be heard in the room, except the ticking of the S vres clock, and the beating of Thibault s heart. He began to look about him with a feeling of shuddering fear for which he could not account; then his eyes fell on the bed; the Countess was lying asleep upon it. In her hair were the same diamond pins, round her neck the same pearls; she was dressed in the same pink silk dressing-gown, and had on the same little slippers of cloth of silver which she had worn to receive the Baron Raoul.

idea

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thus within its cell. But he could still hear the priest, who not only spoke to him, but endeavoured by shaking him to arouse him from his lethargy. Thibault found this very fatiguing, and it was lucky for the priest that the wounded man, just now, had no superhuman power, for he inwardly sent the good man to the devil, many times over. Before long it seemed to him that some sort of hot burning pan was being inserted under the soles of his feet, his loins, his head; his blood began to circulate, then to boil, like water over a fire. His ideas became confused, his clenched jaws opened; his tongue which had been bound became loosened; some disconnected words escaped him. Ah, ah! he thought to himself, this no doubt is what the good doctor spoke about as delirium; and, for the while at least, this was his last lucid idea. His whole life--and his life had really only existed since his first acquaintance with the black wolf--passed before him. He saw himself following, and failing to hit the buck; saw himself tied to the oak-tree, and the blows of the strap falling on him; saw himself and the black wolf drawing up their compact; saw himself trying to pass the devil s ring over Agnelette s finger; saw himself trying to pull out the red hairs, which now covered a third of his head. Then he saw himself on his way to pay court to the pretty Madame Polet of the mill, meeting Landry, and getting rid of his rival; pursued by the farm servants, and followed by his wolves. He saw himself making the acquaintance of Madame Magloire, hunting for her, eating his share of the game, hiding behind the curtains, discovered by Ma tre Magloire, flouted by the Baron of Vez, turned out by all three. Again he saw the hollow tree, with his wolves couching around it and the owls perched on its branches, and heard the sounds of the approaching violins and hautboy and saw himself looking, as Agnelette and the happy wedding party went by. He saw himself the victim of angry jealousy, endeavouring to fight against it by the help of drink, and across his troubled brain came the recollection of Fran ois, of Champagne, and the Inn-keeper; he heard the galloping of Baron Raoul s horse, and he felt himself knocked down and rolling in the muddy road. Then he ceased to see himself as Thibault; in his stead arose the figure of the handsome young rider whose form he had taken for a while. Once more he was kissing Lisette, once more his lips were touching the Countess s hand; then he was wanting to escape, but he found himself at a cross-road where three ways only met, and each of these was guarded by one of his victims: the first, by the spectre of a drowned man, that was Marcotte; the second, by a young man dying of fever on a hospital bed, that was Landry; the third, by a wounded man, dragging himself along on one knee, and trying in vain to stand up on his mutilated leg, that was the Comte de Mont-Gobert. He fancied that as all these things passed before him, he told the history of them one by one, and that the priest, as he listened to this strange confession, looked more like a dying man, was paler and more trembling than the man whose confession he was listening to; that he wanted to give him absolution, but that he, Thibault, pushed him away, shaking his head, and that he cried out with a terrible laugh: I want no absolution! I am damned! damned! damned! And in the midst of all this hallucination, this delirious madness, the spirit of Thibault could hear the priest s clock striking the hours, and as they struck he counted them. Only this clock seemed to have grown to gigantic proportions and the face of it was the blue vault of heaven, and the numbers on it were flames; and the clock was called eternity, and the monstrous pendulum, as it swung backwards and forwards called out in turn at every beat: Never! For ever! And so he lay and heard the long hours of the day pass one by one; and then at last the clock struck nine. At half past nine, he, Thibault, would have been Raoul, and Raoul would have been Thibault, for just four and twenty hours. As the last stroke of the hour died away, Thibault felt the fever passing from him, it was succeeded by a sensation of coldness, which almost amounted to shivering. He opened his eyes, all trembling with cold, and saw the priest at the foot of the bed saying the prayers for the dying, and the hands of the actual clock pointing to a quarter past nine. His senses had become so acute, that, imperceptible as was their double movement, he could yet see both the larger and smaller one slowly creeping along; they were gradually nearing the critical hour; half past nine! Although the face of the clock was in darkness, it seemed illuminated by some inward light. As the minute hand approached the number 6, a spasm becoming every instant more and more violent shook the dying man; his feet were like ice, and the numbness slowly, but steadily, mounted from the feet to the knees, from the knees to the thighs, from the thighs to the lower part of the body. The sweat was running down his forehead, but he had no strength to wipe it away, nor even to ask to have it done. It was a sweat of agony which he knew every moment might be the sweat of death. All kinds of strange shapes, which had nothing of the human about them, floated before his eyes; the light faded away; wings as of bats seemed to lift his body and carry it into some twilight region, which was neither life nor death, but seemed a part of both. Then the twilight itself grew darker and darker; his eyes closed, and like a blind man stumbling in the dark, his heavy wings seemed to flap against strange and unknown things. After that he sank away into unfathomable depths, into bottomless abysses, but still he heard the sound of a bell. The bell rang once, and scarcely had it ceased to vibrate when the dying man uttered a cry. The priest rose and went to the side of the bed; with that cry the Baron Raoul had breathed his last: it was exactly one second after the half hour after nine. CHAPTER XIX THE DEAD AND THE LIVING At the same moment that the trembling soul of the young Baron passed away, Thibault, awaking as if from an agitated sleep full of terrible dreams, sat up in his bed. He was surrounded by fire, every corner of his hut was in flames; at first he thought it was a continuation of his nightmare, but then he heard cries of, Death to the wizard! death to the sorcerer! death to the were-wolf! and he understood that some terrible attack was being made upon him. The flames came nearer, they reached the bed, he felt their heat upon him; a few seconds more and he would be burned alive in the midst of the flaming pile. Thibault leaped from his bed, seized his boar-spear, and dashed out of the back door of his hut. No sooner did his enemies see him rush through the fire and emerge from the smoke than their cries of death to him! death! were redoubled. One or two shots were fired at him; Thibault heard the bullets whizz past; those who shot at him wore the livery of the Grand Master, and Thibault recalled the menace of the lord of Vez, uttered against him a few days before. He was then beyond the pale of the law; he could be smoked out of his hole like a fox; he could be shot down like a buck. Luckily for Thibault, not one of the bullets struck him, and as the circle of fire made by the burning hut was not a large one, he was soon safely beyond it, and once again in shelter of the vast and gloomy forest, where, had it not been for the cries of the menials who were burning down his house, the silence would have been as complete as the darkness. He sat down at the foot of a tree and buried his head in his hands. The events of the last forty-eight hours had succeeded each other with such rapidity, that there was no lack of matter to serve as subjects of reflection to the shoe-maker. The twenty-four hours, during which he had lived another existence than his own, seemed to him like a dream, so much so, that he would not have dared to take his oath that all this recent affair between the Baron, and the Countess Jane, and the Comte de Mont-Gobert had really taken place. The church clock of Oigny struck ten, and he lifted his head. Ten o clock! and only half-an-hour before he had been still in the body of the Baron Raoul, as he lay dying in the house of the Cur of Puiseux. Ah! he exclaimed I must find out for certain what has happened! It is not quite three miles to Puiseux and I shall be there in half-an-hour; I should like to ascertain if the Baron is really dead. A melancholy howl made answer to his words; he looked round; his faithful body-guards were back again; he had his pack about him once more. Come, wolves! come, my only friends! he cried, let us be off! And he started with them across the forest in the direction of Puiseux. The huntsmen of the Lord of Vez, who were poking up the remaining embers of the ruined hut, saw a man pass, as in a vision, running at the head of a dozen or more wolves. They crossed themselves, and became more convinced than ever that Thibault was a wizard. And anybody else who had seen Thibault, flying along as swiftly as his swiftest wolf, and covering the ground between Oigny and Puiseux in less than a quarter of an hour, would certainly have thought so too. He stopped at the entrance to the village, and turning to his wolves, he said: Friend wolves, I have no further need of you to-night, and indeed, I wish to be alone. Amuse yourselves with the stables in the neighbourhood, I give you leave to do just what you like; and if you chance to come across one of those two-footed animals, called men, forget, friend wolves, that they claim to be made in the image of their Creator, and never fear to satisfy your appetite. Whereupon the wolves rushed off in different directions, uttering howls of joy, while Thibault went on into the village. The Cur s house adjoined the church, and Thibault made a circuit so as to avoid passing in front of the Cross. When he reached the presbytery, he looked in through one of the windows, and there he saw a bed with a lighted wax candle beside it; and over the bed itself was spread a sheet, and beneath the sheet could be seen the outlines of a figure lying rigid in death. There appeared to be no one in the house; the priest had no doubt gone to give notice of the death to the village authorities. Thibault went inside, and called the priest, but no one answered. He walked up to the bed, there could be no mistake about the body under the sheet being that of a dead man; he lifted the sheet, there could be no mistaking that the dead body was that of Raoul de Vauparfond. On his face lay the still, unearthly beauty which is born of eternity. His features, which in life had been somewhat too feminine for those of a man, had now assumed the sombre grandeur of death. At the first glance you might have thought he only slept; but on gazing longer you recognised in that immovable calm something more profound than sleep. The presence of one who carries a sickle for sceptre, and wears a shroud for mantle was unmistakeable, and you knew King Death was there. Thibault had left the door open, and he heard the sound of light footsteps approaching; at the back of the alcove hung a serge curtain, which masked a door by which he could retreat, if necessary, and he now went and placed himself behind it. A woman dressed in black, and covered with a black veil, paused in some hesitation at the door. The head of another woman passed in front of her s and looked carefully round the room. I think it is safe for Madame to go in; I see no one about, and besides, I will keep watch. The woman in black went in, walked slowly towards the bed, stopped a moment to wipe the perspiration from her forehead, then, without further hesitation, lifted the sheet which Thibault had thrown back over the face of the dead man; Thibault then saw that it was the Countess. Alas! she said, what they told me was true! Then she fell on her knees, praying and sobbing. Her prayer being ended, she rose again, kissed the pale forehead of the dead, and the blue marks of the wound through which the soul had fled. O my well-beloved, my Raoul; she murmured, who will tell me the name of your murderer? who will help me to avenge your death? As the Countess finished speaking, she gave a cry and started back; she seemed to hear a voice that answered, I will! and something had shaken the green serge curtain. The Countess however was no chicken-hearted woman; she took the candle that was burning at the head of the bed and went and looked behind the curtain; but no creature was to be seen, a closed door was all that met her eye. She put back the candle, took a pair of gold scissors from a little pocket case, cut off a curl of the dead man s hair, placed the curl in a black velvet sachet which hung over her heart, gave one last kiss to her dead lover, laid the sheet over his face, and left the house. Just as she was crossing the threshold, she met the priest, and drawing back, drew her veil more closely over her face. Who are you? asked the priest. I am Grief, she answered, and the priest made way for her to pass. The Countess and her attendant had come on foot, and were returning in the same manner, for the distance between Puiseux and Mont-Gobert was not much more than half-a-mile. When about half way along their road, a man, who had been hiding behind a willow tree, stepped forward and barred their further passage. Lisette screamed, but the Countess, without the least sign of fear, went up to the man, and asked: Who are you? The man who answered I will just now, when you were asking who would denounce the murderer to you. And you can help me to revenge myself on him? Whenever you like. At once? We cannot talk here very well. Where can we find a better place? In your own room for one. We must not enter the castle together. No; but I can go through the breach in the park wall: Mademoiselle Lisette can wait for me in the hut where Monsieur Raoul used to leave his horse, she can take me up the winding-stair and into your room. If you should be in your dressing-room, I will wait for you, as Monsieur Raoul waited the night before last. The two women shuddered from head to foot. Who are you to know all these details? asked the Countess. I will tell you when the time comes for me to tell you. The Countess hesitated a moment, then, recovering her resolution, she said: Very well then; come through the breach; Lisette will wait for you in the stable. Oh! Madame, cried the maid, I shall never dare to go and bring that man to you! I will go myself then, said the Countess. Well said! put in Thibault, there spoke a woman worth calling one! And so saying he slid down into a kind of ravine beside the road, and disappeared. Lisette very nearly fainted. Lean on me, Mademoiselle, said the Countess, and let us walk on; I am anxious to hear what this man has to say to me. The two women entered the castle by way of the farm; no one had seen them go out, and no one saw them return. On reaching her room, the Countess waited for Lisette to bring up the stranger. Ten minutes had elapsed when the maid hurried in with a pale face. Ah! Madame, she said, there was no need for me to go to fetch him. What do you mean? asked the Countess. Because he knew his way up as well as I did! And oh! Madame! if you knew what he said to me! That man is the devil, Madame, I feel sure! Show him in, said the Countess. I am here! said Thibault. You can leave us now, my girl, said the Countess to Lisette. The latter quitted the room and the Countess remained alone with Thibault. Thibault s appearance was not one to inspire confidence. He gave the impression of a man who had once and for all made up his mind, but it was also easy to see that it was for no good purpose; a Satanic smile played about his mouth, and there was a demoniacal light in his eyes. He had made no attempt to hide his red hairs, but had left them defiantly uncovered, and they hung over his forehead like a plume of flame. But still the Countess looked him full in the face without changing colour. My maid says that you know the way to my room; have you ever been here before? Yes, Madame, once. And when was that? The day before yesterday. At what time? From half-past ten till half-past twelve at night. The Countess looked steadily at him and said: That is not true. Would you like me to tell you what took place? During the time you mention? During the time I mention. Say on, replied the Countess, laconically. Thibault was equally laconic. Monsieur Raoul came in by that door, he said, pointing to the one leading into the corridor, and Lisette left him here alone. You entered the room by that one, he continued, indicating the dressing-room door, and you found him on his knees. Your hair was unbound, only fastened back by three diamond pins, you wore a pink silk dressing-gown, trimmed with lace, pink silk stockings, cloth-of-silver slippers and a chain of pearls round your neck. You describe my dress exactly, said the Countess, continue. You tried to pick a quarrel with Monsieur Raoul, first because he loitered in the corridors to kiss your waiting-maid; secondly, because someone had met him late at night on the road between Erneville and Villers-Cotterets; thirdly, because, at the ball given at the Castle, at which you yourself were not present, he danced four times with Madame de Bonneuil. Continue. In answer to your accusations, your lover made excuses for himself, some good, some bad; you, however, were satisfied with them for you were just forgiving him when Lisette rushed in full of alarm calling to Monsieur Raoul to escape, as your husband had just returned. Lisette was right, you can be nothing less than the devil, said the Countess with a sinister laugh, and I think we shall be able to do business together.... Finish your account. Then you and your maid together pushed Monsieur Raoul, who resisted, into the dressing-room; Lisette forced him along the corridors and through two or three rooms; they then went down a winding staircase, in the wing of the Castle opposite to the one by which they had gone up. On arriving at the foot of the staircase, the fugitives found the door locked; then they ran into a kind of office where Lisette opened the window, which was about seven or eight feet above the ground. Monsieur Raoul leaped down out of this window, ran to the stable, found his horse still there, but hamstrung; then he swore that if he met the Count at any time he would hamstring him as the Count had hamstrung his horse, for he thought it a cowardly act to injure a poor beast so unnecessarily. Then he went on foot to the breach, climbed it, and found the Count awaiting him outside the park, with his sword drawn. The Baron had his hunting-knife with him; he drew it, and the duel began. Was the Count alone? Wait ... the Count appeared to be alone; after the fourth or fifth pass the Count was wounded in the shoulder, and sank on one knee, crying: help, Lestocq! Then the Baron remembered his oath, and hamstrung the Count as he had hamstrung the horse; but as the Baron rose, Lestocq drove his knife into his back; it passed under the shoulder blade and out through the chest. I need not tell you where ... you kissed the wound yourself. And after that? The Count and his huntsman returned to the Castle, leaving the Baron lying helpless; when the latter came to, he made signs to some passing peasants, who put him on a litter, and bore him away, with the intention of taking him to Villers-Cotterets; but he was in such pain, that they could not carry him farther than Puiseux; there they laid him on the bed where you found him, and on which he breathed his last a second after the half hour after nine in the evening. The Countess rose, and without speaking, went to her jewel-case and took out the pearls she had worn two nights before. She handed them to Thibault. What are they for? he asked. Take them, said the Countess, they are worth fifty thousand livres. Are you still anxious for revenge? Yes, replied the Countess. Revenge will cost more than that. How much will it cost? Wait for me to-morrow night, said Thibault, and I will tell you. Where shall I await you? asked the Countess. Here, said Thibault, with the leer of a wild animal. I will await you here, said the Countess. Till to-morrow then. Till to-morrow. Thibault went out. The Countess went and replaced the pearls in her dressing case; lifted up a false bottom, and drew from underneath it a small bottle containing an opal-coloured liquid, and a little dagger with a jewelled handle and case, and a blade inlaid with gold. She hid both beneath her pillow, knelt at her prie-dieu, and, her prayer finished, threw herself dressed on to her bed.... CHAPTER XX TRUE TO TRYST On quitting the Countess s room, Thibault had left the castle by the way which he had described to her, and soon found himself safe beyond its walls and outside the park. And now, for the first time in his life, Thibault had really nowhere to go. His hut was burnt, he was without a friend, and like Cain, he was a wanderer on the face of the earth. He turned to the unfailing shelter of the forest, and there made his way to the lower end of Chavigny; as the day was breaking he came across a solitary house, and asked if he could buy some bread. The woman belonging to it, her husband being away, gave him some, but refused to receive payment for it; his appearance frightened her. Having now food sufficient for the day, Thibault returned to the forest, with the intention of spending his time till evening in a part which he knew between Fleury and Longpont, where the trees were especially thick and tall. As he was looking for a resting place behind a rock, his eye was attracted by a shining object lying at the bottom of a slope, and his curiosity led him to climb down and see what it was. The shining object was the silver badge belonging to a huntsman s shoulder-belt; the shoulder-belt was slung round the neck of a dead body, or rather of a skeleton, for the flesh had been entirely eaten off the bones, which were as clean as if prepared for an anatomist s study or a painter s studio. The skeleton looked as if it had only lain there since the preceding night. Ah! ah! said Thibault, this is probably the work of my friends, the wolves; they evidently profited by the permission which I gave them. Curious to know if possible who the victim was, he examined it more closely; his curiosity was soon satisfied, for the badge, which the wolves had no doubt rejected as less easily digestible than the rest, was lying on the chest of the skeleton, like a ticket on a bale of goods. J. B. LESTOCQ, Head Keeper to the Comte de Mont-Gobert. Well done! laughed Thibault, here is one at least who did not live long to enjoy the result of his murderous act. Then, contracting his brow, he muttered to himself, in a low voice, and this time without laughing: Is there perhaps, after all, what people call a Providence? Lestocq s death was not difficult to account for. He had probably been executing some order for his master that night, and on the road between Mont-Gobert and Longpont, had been attacked by wolves. He had defended himself with the same knife with which he had wounded the Baron, for Thibault found the knife a few paces off, at a spot where the ground showed traces of a severe struggle; at last, being disarmed, the ferocious beasts had dragged him into the hollow, and there devoured him. Thibault was becoming so indifferent to everything that he felt neither pleasure nor regret, neither satisfaction nor remorse, at Lestocq s death; all he thought was, that it simplified matters for the Countess, as she would now only have her husband upon whom she need revenge herself. Then he went and found a place where the rocks afforded him the best shelter from the wind, and prepared to spend his day there in peace. Towards mid-day, he heard the horn of the Lord of Vez, and the cry of his hounds; the mighty huntsman was after game, but the chase did not pass near enough to Thibault to disturb him. At last the night came. At nine o clock Thibault rose and set out for the Castle of Mont-Gobert. He found the breach, followed the path he knew, and came to the little hut where Lisette had been awaiting him on the night when he had come in the guise of Raoul. The poor girl was there this evening, but alarmed and trembling. Thibault wished to carry out the old traditions and tried to kiss her, but she sprang back with visible signs of fear. Do not touch me, she said, or I shall call out. Oh, indeed! my pretty one, said Thibault, you were not so sour-tempered the other day with the Baron Raoul. May be not, said the girl, but a great many things have happened since the other day. And many more to happen still, said Thibault in a lively tone. I think, said the waiting-maid in a mournful voice, that the climax is already reached. Then, as she went on in front. If you wish to come, she added, follow me. Thibault followed her; Lisette, without the slightest effort at concealment, walked straight across the open space that lay between the trees and the castle. You are courageous to-day, said Thibault, and supposing some one were to see us.... There is no fear now, she answered, the eyes that could have seen us are all closed. Although he did not understand what the young girl meant by these words, the tone in which they were spoken made Thibault shiver. He continued to follow her in silence as they went up the winding-stairs to the first floor. As Lisette laid her hand on the key of the door, Thibault suddenly stopped her. Something in the silence and solitude of the castle filled him with fear; it seemed as if a curse might have fallen on the place. Where are we going? said Thibault, scarcely knowing himself what he said. You know well enough, surely. Into the Countess s room? Into the Countess s room. She is waiting for me? She is waiting for you. And Lisette opened the door. Go in, she said. Thibault went in, and Lisette shut the door behind him and waited outside. It was the same exquisite room, lighted in the same manner, filled with the same sweet scent. Thibault looked round for the Countess, he expected to see her appear at the dressing-room door, but the door remained closed. Not a sound was to be heard in the room, except the ticking of the S vres clock, and the beating of Thibault s heart. He began to look about him with a feeling of shuddering fear for which he could not account; then his eyes fell on the bed; the Countess was lying asleep upon it. In her hair were the same diamond pins, round her neck the same pearls; she was dressed in the same pink silk dressing-gown, and had on the same little slippers of cloth of silver which she had worn to receive the Baron Raoul.

recognised

How many times the word 'recognised' appears in the text?

thus within its cell. But he could still hear the priest, who not only spoke to him, but endeavoured by shaking him to arouse him from his lethargy. Thibault found this very fatiguing, and it was lucky for the priest that the wounded man, just now, had no superhuman power, for he inwardly sent the good man to the devil, many times over. Before long it seemed to him that some sort of hot burning pan was being inserted under the soles of his feet, his loins, his head; his blood began to circulate, then to boil, like water over a fire. His ideas became confused, his clenched jaws opened; his tongue which had been bound became loosened; some disconnected words escaped him. Ah, ah! he thought to himself, this no doubt is what the good doctor spoke about as delirium; and, for the while at least, this was his last lucid idea. His whole life--and his life had really only existed since his first acquaintance with the black wolf--passed before him. He saw himself following, and failing to hit the buck; saw himself tied to the oak-tree, and the blows of the strap falling on him; saw himself and the black wolf drawing up their compact; saw himself trying to pass the devil s ring over Agnelette s finger; saw himself trying to pull out the red hairs, which now covered a third of his head. Then he saw himself on his way to pay court to the pretty Madame Polet of the mill, meeting Landry, and getting rid of his rival; pursued by the farm servants, and followed by his wolves. He saw himself making the acquaintance of Madame Magloire, hunting for her, eating his share of the game, hiding behind the curtains, discovered by Ma tre Magloire, flouted by the Baron of Vez, turned out by all three. Again he saw the hollow tree, with his wolves couching around it and the owls perched on its branches, and heard the sounds of the approaching violins and hautboy and saw himself looking, as Agnelette and the happy wedding party went by. He saw himself the victim of angry jealousy, endeavouring to fight against it by the help of drink, and across his troubled brain came the recollection of Fran ois, of Champagne, and the Inn-keeper; he heard the galloping of Baron Raoul s horse, and he felt himself knocked down and rolling in the muddy road. Then he ceased to see himself as Thibault; in his stead arose the figure of the handsome young rider whose form he had taken for a while. Once more he was kissing Lisette, once more his lips were touching the Countess s hand; then he was wanting to escape, but he found himself at a cross-road where three ways only met, and each of these was guarded by one of his victims: the first, by the spectre of a drowned man, that was Marcotte; the second, by a young man dying of fever on a hospital bed, that was Landry; the third, by a wounded man, dragging himself along on one knee, and trying in vain to stand up on his mutilated leg, that was the Comte de Mont-Gobert. He fancied that as all these things passed before him, he told the history of them one by one, and that the priest, as he listened to this strange confession, looked more like a dying man, was paler and more trembling than the man whose confession he was listening to; that he wanted to give him absolution, but that he, Thibault, pushed him away, shaking his head, and that he cried out with a terrible laugh: I want no absolution! I am damned! damned! damned! And in the midst of all this hallucination, this delirious madness, the spirit of Thibault could hear the priest s clock striking the hours, and as they struck he counted them. Only this clock seemed to have grown to gigantic proportions and the face of it was the blue vault of heaven, and the numbers on it were flames; and the clock was called eternity, and the monstrous pendulum, as it swung backwards and forwards called out in turn at every beat: Never! For ever! And so he lay and heard the long hours of the day pass one by one; and then at last the clock struck nine. At half past nine, he, Thibault, would have been Raoul, and Raoul would have been Thibault, for just four and twenty hours. As the last stroke of the hour died away, Thibault felt the fever passing from him, it was succeeded by a sensation of coldness, which almost amounted to shivering. He opened his eyes, all trembling with cold, and saw the priest at the foot of the bed saying the prayers for the dying, and the hands of the actual clock pointing to a quarter past nine. His senses had become so acute, that, imperceptible as was their double movement, he could yet see both the larger and smaller one slowly creeping along; they were gradually nearing the critical hour; half past nine! Although the face of the clock was in darkness, it seemed illuminated by some inward light. As the minute hand approached the number 6, a spasm becoming every instant more and more violent shook the dying man; his feet were like ice, and the numbness slowly, but steadily, mounted from the feet to the knees, from the knees to the thighs, from the thighs to the lower part of the body. The sweat was running down his forehead, but he had no strength to wipe it away, nor even to ask to have it done. It was a sweat of agony which he knew every moment might be the sweat of death. All kinds of strange shapes, which had nothing of the human about them, floated before his eyes; the light faded away; wings as of bats seemed to lift his body and carry it into some twilight region, which was neither life nor death, but seemed a part of both. Then the twilight itself grew darker and darker; his eyes closed, and like a blind man stumbling in the dark, his heavy wings seemed to flap against strange and unknown things. After that he sank away into unfathomable depths, into bottomless abysses, but still he heard the sound of a bell. The bell rang once, and scarcely had it ceased to vibrate when the dying man uttered a cry. The priest rose and went to the side of the bed; with that cry the Baron Raoul had breathed his last: it was exactly one second after the half hour after nine. CHAPTER XIX THE DEAD AND THE LIVING At the same moment that the trembling soul of the young Baron passed away, Thibault, awaking as if from an agitated sleep full of terrible dreams, sat up in his bed. He was surrounded by fire, every corner of his hut was in flames; at first he thought it was a continuation of his nightmare, but then he heard cries of, Death to the wizard! death to the sorcerer! death to the were-wolf! and he understood that some terrible attack was being made upon him. The flames came nearer, they reached the bed, he felt their heat upon him; a few seconds more and he would be burned alive in the midst of the flaming pile. Thibault leaped from his bed, seized his boar-spear, and dashed out of the back door of his hut. No sooner did his enemies see him rush through the fire and emerge from the smoke than their cries of death to him! death! were redoubled. One or two shots were fired at him; Thibault heard the bullets whizz past; those who shot at him wore the livery of the Grand Master, and Thibault recalled the menace of the lord of Vez, uttered against him a few days before. He was then beyond the pale of the law; he could be smoked out of his hole like a fox; he could be shot down like a buck. Luckily for Thibault, not one of the bullets struck him, and as the circle of fire made by the burning hut was not a large one, he was soon safely beyond it, and once again in shelter of the vast and gloomy forest, where, had it not been for the cries of the menials who were burning down his house, the silence would have been as complete as the darkness. He sat down at the foot of a tree and buried his head in his hands. The events of the last forty-eight hours had succeeded each other with such rapidity, that there was no lack of matter to serve as subjects of reflection to the shoe-maker. The twenty-four hours, during which he had lived another existence than his own, seemed to him like a dream, so much so, that he would not have dared to take his oath that all this recent affair between the Baron, and the Countess Jane, and the Comte de Mont-Gobert had really taken place. The church clock of Oigny struck ten, and he lifted his head. Ten o clock! and only half-an-hour before he had been still in the body of the Baron Raoul, as he lay dying in the house of the Cur of Puiseux. Ah! he exclaimed I must find out for certain what has happened! It is not quite three miles to Puiseux and I shall be there in half-an-hour; I should like to ascertain if the Baron is really dead. A melancholy howl made answer to his words; he looked round; his faithful body-guards were back again; he had his pack about him once more. Come, wolves! come, my only friends! he cried, let us be off! And he started with them across the forest in the direction of Puiseux. The huntsmen of the Lord of Vez, who were poking up the remaining embers of the ruined hut, saw a man pass, as in a vision, running at the head of a dozen or more wolves. They crossed themselves, and became more convinced than ever that Thibault was a wizard. And anybody else who had seen Thibault, flying along as swiftly as his swiftest wolf, and covering the ground between Oigny and Puiseux in less than a quarter of an hour, would certainly have thought so too. He stopped at the entrance to the village, and turning to his wolves, he said: Friend wolves, I have no further need of you to-night, and indeed, I wish to be alone. Amuse yourselves with the stables in the neighbourhood, I give you leave to do just what you like; and if you chance to come across one of those two-footed animals, called men, forget, friend wolves, that they claim to be made in the image of their Creator, and never fear to satisfy your appetite. Whereupon the wolves rushed off in different directions, uttering howls of joy, while Thibault went on into the village. The Cur s house adjoined the church, and Thibault made a circuit so as to avoid passing in front of the Cross. When he reached the presbytery, he looked in through one of the windows, and there he saw a bed with a lighted wax candle beside it; and over the bed itself was spread a sheet, and beneath the sheet could be seen the outlines of a figure lying rigid in death. There appeared to be no one in the house; the priest had no doubt gone to give notice of the death to the village authorities. Thibault went inside, and called the priest, but no one answered. He walked up to the bed, there could be no mistake about the body under the sheet being that of a dead man; he lifted the sheet, there could be no mistaking that the dead body was that of Raoul de Vauparfond. On his face lay the still, unearthly beauty which is born of eternity. His features, which in life had been somewhat too feminine for those of a man, had now assumed the sombre grandeur of death. At the first glance you might have thought he only slept; but on gazing longer you recognised in that immovable calm something more profound than sleep. The presence of one who carries a sickle for sceptre, and wears a shroud for mantle was unmistakeable, and you knew King Death was there. Thibault had left the door open, and he heard the sound of light footsteps approaching; at the back of the alcove hung a serge curtain, which masked a door by which he could retreat, if necessary, and he now went and placed himself behind it. A woman dressed in black, and covered with a black veil, paused in some hesitation at the door. The head of another woman passed in front of her s and looked carefully round the room. I think it is safe for Madame to go in; I see no one about, and besides, I will keep watch. The woman in black went in, walked slowly towards the bed, stopped a moment to wipe the perspiration from her forehead, then, without further hesitation, lifted the sheet which Thibault had thrown back over the face of the dead man; Thibault then saw that it was the Countess. Alas! she said, what they told me was true! Then she fell on her knees, praying and sobbing. Her prayer being ended, she rose again, kissed the pale forehead of the dead, and the blue marks of the wound through which the soul had fled. O my well-beloved, my Raoul; she murmured, who will tell me the name of your murderer? who will help me to avenge your death? As the Countess finished speaking, she gave a cry and started back; she seemed to hear a voice that answered, I will! and something had shaken the green serge curtain. The Countess however was no chicken-hearted woman; she took the candle that was burning at the head of the bed and went and looked behind the curtain; but no creature was to be seen, a closed door was all that met her eye. She put back the candle, took a pair of gold scissors from a little pocket case, cut off a curl of the dead man s hair, placed the curl in a black velvet sachet which hung over her heart, gave one last kiss to her dead lover, laid the sheet over his face, and left the house. Just as she was crossing the threshold, she met the priest, and drawing back, drew her veil more closely over her face. Who are you? asked the priest. I am Grief, she answered, and the priest made way for her to pass. The Countess and her attendant had come on foot, and were returning in the same manner, for the distance between Puiseux and Mont-Gobert was not much more than half-a-mile. When about half way along their road, a man, who had been hiding behind a willow tree, stepped forward and barred their further passage. Lisette screamed, but the Countess, without the least sign of fear, went up to the man, and asked: Who are you? The man who answered I will just now, when you were asking who would denounce the murderer to you. And you can help me to revenge myself on him? Whenever you like. At once? We cannot talk here very well. Where can we find a better place? In your own room for one. We must not enter the castle together. No; but I can go through the breach in the park wall: Mademoiselle Lisette can wait for me in the hut where Monsieur Raoul used to leave his horse, she can take me up the winding-stair and into your room. If you should be in your dressing-room, I will wait for you, as Monsieur Raoul waited the night before last. The two women shuddered from head to foot. Who are you to know all these details? asked the Countess. I will tell you when the time comes for me to tell you. The Countess hesitated a moment, then, recovering her resolution, she said: Very well then; come through the breach; Lisette will wait for you in the stable. Oh! Madame, cried the maid, I shall never dare to go and bring that man to you! I will go myself then, said the Countess. Well said! put in Thibault, there spoke a woman worth calling one! And so saying he slid down into a kind of ravine beside the road, and disappeared. Lisette very nearly fainted. Lean on me, Mademoiselle, said the Countess, and let us walk on; I am anxious to hear what this man has to say to me. The two women entered the castle by way of the farm; no one had seen them go out, and no one saw them return. On reaching her room, the Countess waited for Lisette to bring up the stranger. Ten minutes had elapsed when the maid hurried in with a pale face. Ah! Madame, she said, there was no need for me to go to fetch him. What do you mean? asked the Countess. Because he knew his way up as well as I did! And oh! Madame! if you knew what he said to me! That man is the devil, Madame, I feel sure! Show him in, said the Countess. I am here! said Thibault. You can leave us now, my girl, said the Countess to Lisette. The latter quitted the room and the Countess remained alone with Thibault. Thibault s appearance was not one to inspire confidence. He gave the impression of a man who had once and for all made up his mind, but it was also easy to see that it was for no good purpose; a Satanic smile played about his mouth, and there was a demoniacal light in his eyes. He had made no attempt to hide his red hairs, but had left them defiantly uncovered, and they hung over his forehead like a plume of flame. But still the Countess looked him full in the face without changing colour. My maid says that you know the way to my room; have you ever been here before? Yes, Madame, once. And when was that? The day before yesterday. At what time? From half-past ten till half-past twelve at night. The Countess looked steadily at him and said: That is not true. Would you like me to tell you what took place? During the time you mention? During the time I mention. Say on, replied the Countess, laconically. Thibault was equally laconic. Monsieur Raoul came in by that door, he said, pointing to the one leading into the corridor, and Lisette left him here alone. You entered the room by that one, he continued, indicating the dressing-room door, and you found him on his knees. Your hair was unbound, only fastened back by three diamond pins, you wore a pink silk dressing-gown, trimmed with lace, pink silk stockings, cloth-of-silver slippers and a chain of pearls round your neck. You describe my dress exactly, said the Countess, continue. You tried to pick a quarrel with Monsieur Raoul, first because he loitered in the corridors to kiss your waiting-maid; secondly, because someone had met him late at night on the road between Erneville and Villers-Cotterets; thirdly, because, at the ball given at the Castle, at which you yourself were not present, he danced four times with Madame de Bonneuil. Continue. In answer to your accusations, your lover made excuses for himself, some good, some bad; you, however, were satisfied with them for you were just forgiving him when Lisette rushed in full of alarm calling to Monsieur Raoul to escape, as your husband had just returned. Lisette was right, you can be nothing less than the devil, said the Countess with a sinister laugh, and I think we shall be able to do business together.... Finish your account. Then you and your maid together pushed Monsieur Raoul, who resisted, into the dressing-room; Lisette forced him along the corridors and through two or three rooms; they then went down a winding staircase, in the wing of the Castle opposite to the one by which they had gone up. On arriving at the foot of the staircase, the fugitives found the door locked; then they ran into a kind of office where Lisette opened the window, which was about seven or eight feet above the ground. Monsieur Raoul leaped down out of this window, ran to the stable, found his horse still there, but hamstrung; then he swore that if he met the Count at any time he would hamstring him as the Count had hamstrung his horse, for he thought it a cowardly act to injure a poor beast so unnecessarily. Then he went on foot to the breach, climbed it, and found the Count awaiting him outside the park, with his sword drawn. The Baron had his hunting-knife with him; he drew it, and the duel began. Was the Count alone? Wait ... the Count appeared to be alone; after the fourth or fifth pass the Count was wounded in the shoulder, and sank on one knee, crying: help, Lestocq! Then the Baron remembered his oath, and hamstrung the Count as he had hamstrung the horse; but as the Baron rose, Lestocq drove his knife into his back; it passed under the shoulder blade and out through the chest. I need not tell you where ... you kissed the wound yourself. And after that? The Count and his huntsman returned to the Castle, leaving the Baron lying helpless; when the latter came to, he made signs to some passing peasants, who put him on a litter, and bore him away, with the intention of taking him to Villers-Cotterets; but he was in such pain, that they could not carry him farther than Puiseux; there they laid him on the bed where you found him, and on which he breathed his last a second after the half hour after nine in the evening. The Countess rose, and without speaking, went to her jewel-case and took out the pearls she had worn two nights before. She handed them to Thibault. What are they for? he asked. Take them, said the Countess, they are worth fifty thousand livres. Are you still anxious for revenge? Yes, replied the Countess. Revenge will cost more than that. How much will it cost? Wait for me to-morrow night, said Thibault, and I will tell you. Where shall I await you? asked the Countess. Here, said Thibault, with the leer of a wild animal. I will await you here, said the Countess. Till to-morrow then. Till to-morrow. Thibault went out. The Countess went and replaced the pearls in her dressing case; lifted up a false bottom, and drew from underneath it a small bottle containing an opal-coloured liquid, and a little dagger with a jewelled handle and case, and a blade inlaid with gold. She hid both beneath her pillow, knelt at her prie-dieu, and, her prayer finished, threw herself dressed on to her bed.... CHAPTER XX TRUE TO TRYST On quitting the Countess s room, Thibault had left the castle by the way which he had described to her, and soon found himself safe beyond its walls and outside the park. And now, for the first time in his life, Thibault had really nowhere to go. His hut was burnt, he was without a friend, and like Cain, he was a wanderer on the face of the earth. He turned to the unfailing shelter of the forest, and there made his way to the lower end of Chavigny; as the day was breaking he came across a solitary house, and asked if he could buy some bread. The woman belonging to it, her husband being away, gave him some, but refused to receive payment for it; his appearance frightened her. Having now food sufficient for the day, Thibault returned to the forest, with the intention of spending his time till evening in a part which he knew between Fleury and Longpont, where the trees were especially thick and tall. As he was looking for a resting place behind a rock, his eye was attracted by a shining object lying at the bottom of a slope, and his curiosity led him to climb down and see what it was. The shining object was the silver badge belonging to a huntsman s shoulder-belt; the shoulder-belt was slung round the neck of a dead body, or rather of a skeleton, for the flesh had been entirely eaten off the bones, which were as clean as if prepared for an anatomist s study or a painter s studio. The skeleton looked as if it had only lain there since the preceding night. Ah! ah! said Thibault, this is probably the work of my friends, the wolves; they evidently profited by the permission which I gave them. Curious to know if possible who the victim was, he examined it more closely; his curiosity was soon satisfied, for the badge, which the wolves had no doubt rejected as less easily digestible than the rest, was lying on the chest of the skeleton, like a ticket on a bale of goods. J. B. LESTOCQ, Head Keeper to the Comte de Mont-Gobert. Well done! laughed Thibault, here is one at least who did not live long to enjoy the result of his murderous act. Then, contracting his brow, he muttered to himself, in a low voice, and this time without laughing: Is there perhaps, after all, what people call a Providence? Lestocq s death was not difficult to account for. He had probably been executing some order for his master that night, and on the road between Mont-Gobert and Longpont, had been attacked by wolves. He had defended himself with the same knife with which he had wounded the Baron, for Thibault found the knife a few paces off, at a spot where the ground showed traces of a severe struggle; at last, being disarmed, the ferocious beasts had dragged him into the hollow, and there devoured him. Thibault was becoming so indifferent to everything that he felt neither pleasure nor regret, neither satisfaction nor remorse, at Lestocq s death; all he thought was, that it simplified matters for the Countess, as she would now only have her husband upon whom she need revenge herself. Then he went and found a place where the rocks afforded him the best shelter from the wind, and prepared to spend his day there in peace. Towards mid-day, he heard the horn of the Lord of Vez, and the cry of his hounds; the mighty huntsman was after game, but the chase did not pass near enough to Thibault to disturb him. At last the night came. At nine o clock Thibault rose and set out for the Castle of Mont-Gobert. He found the breach, followed the path he knew, and came to the little hut where Lisette had been awaiting him on the night when he had come in the guise of Raoul. The poor girl was there this evening, but alarmed and trembling. Thibault wished to carry out the old traditions and tried to kiss her, but she sprang back with visible signs of fear. Do not touch me, she said, or I shall call out. Oh, indeed! my pretty one, said Thibault, you were not so sour-tempered the other day with the Baron Raoul. May be not, said the girl, but a great many things have happened since the other day. And many more to happen still, said Thibault in a lively tone. I think, said the waiting-maid in a mournful voice, that the climax is already reached. Then, as she went on in front. If you wish to come, she added, follow me. Thibault followed her; Lisette, without the slightest effort at concealment, walked straight across the open space that lay between the trees and the castle. You are courageous to-day, said Thibault, and supposing some one were to see us.... There is no fear now, she answered, the eyes that could have seen us are all closed. Although he did not understand what the young girl meant by these words, the tone in which they were spoken made Thibault shiver. He continued to follow her in silence as they went up the winding-stairs to the first floor. As Lisette laid her hand on the key of the door, Thibault suddenly stopped her. Something in the silence and solitude of the castle filled him with fear; it seemed as if a curse might have fallen on the place. Where are we going? said Thibault, scarcely knowing himself what he said. You know well enough, surely. Into the Countess s room? Into the Countess s room. She is waiting for me? She is waiting for you. And Lisette opened the door. Go in, she said. Thibault went in, and Lisette shut the door behind him and waited outside. It was the same exquisite room, lighted in the same manner, filled with the same sweet scent. Thibault looked round for the Countess, he expected to see her appear at the dressing-room door, but the door remained closed. Not a sound was to be heard in the room, except the ticking of the S vres clock, and the beating of Thibault s heart. He began to look about him with a feeling of shuddering fear for which he could not account; then his eyes fell on the bed; the Countess was lying asleep upon it. In her hair were the same diamond pins, round her neck the same pearls; she was dressed in the same pink silk dressing-gown, and had on the same little slippers of cloth of silver which she had worn to receive the Baron Raoul.

wound

How many times the word 'wound' appears in the text?

thus within its cell. But he could still hear the priest, who not only spoke to him, but endeavoured by shaking him to arouse him from his lethargy. Thibault found this very fatiguing, and it was lucky for the priest that the wounded man, just now, had no superhuman power, for he inwardly sent the good man to the devil, many times over. Before long it seemed to him that some sort of hot burning pan was being inserted under the soles of his feet, his loins, his head; his blood began to circulate, then to boil, like water over a fire. His ideas became confused, his clenched jaws opened; his tongue which had been bound became loosened; some disconnected words escaped him. Ah, ah! he thought to himself, this no doubt is what the good doctor spoke about as delirium; and, for the while at least, this was his last lucid idea. His whole life--and his life had really only existed since his first acquaintance with the black wolf--passed before him. He saw himself following, and failing to hit the buck; saw himself tied to the oak-tree, and the blows of the strap falling on him; saw himself and the black wolf drawing up their compact; saw himself trying to pass the devil s ring over Agnelette s finger; saw himself trying to pull out the red hairs, which now covered a third of his head. Then he saw himself on his way to pay court to the pretty Madame Polet of the mill, meeting Landry, and getting rid of his rival; pursued by the farm servants, and followed by his wolves. He saw himself making the acquaintance of Madame Magloire, hunting for her, eating his share of the game, hiding behind the curtains, discovered by Ma tre Magloire, flouted by the Baron of Vez, turned out by all three. Again he saw the hollow tree, with his wolves couching around it and the owls perched on its branches, and heard the sounds of the approaching violins and hautboy and saw himself looking, as Agnelette and the happy wedding party went by. He saw himself the victim of angry jealousy, endeavouring to fight against it by the help of drink, and across his troubled brain came the recollection of Fran ois, of Champagne, and the Inn-keeper; he heard the galloping of Baron Raoul s horse, and he felt himself knocked down and rolling in the muddy road. Then he ceased to see himself as Thibault; in his stead arose the figure of the handsome young rider whose form he had taken for a while. Once more he was kissing Lisette, once more his lips were touching the Countess s hand; then he was wanting to escape, but he found himself at a cross-road where three ways only met, and each of these was guarded by one of his victims: the first, by the spectre of a drowned man, that was Marcotte; the second, by a young man dying of fever on a hospital bed, that was Landry; the third, by a wounded man, dragging himself along on one knee, and trying in vain to stand up on his mutilated leg, that was the Comte de Mont-Gobert. He fancied that as all these things passed before him, he told the history of them one by one, and that the priest, as he listened to this strange confession, looked more like a dying man, was paler and more trembling than the man whose confession he was listening to; that he wanted to give him absolution, but that he, Thibault, pushed him away, shaking his head, and that he cried out with a terrible laugh: I want no absolution! I am damned! damned! damned! And in the midst of all this hallucination, this delirious madness, the spirit of Thibault could hear the priest s clock striking the hours, and as they struck he counted them. Only this clock seemed to have grown to gigantic proportions and the face of it was the blue vault of heaven, and the numbers on it were flames; and the clock was called eternity, and the monstrous pendulum, as it swung backwards and forwards called out in turn at every beat: Never! For ever! And so he lay and heard the long hours of the day pass one by one; and then at last the clock struck nine. At half past nine, he, Thibault, would have been Raoul, and Raoul would have been Thibault, for just four and twenty hours. As the last stroke of the hour died away, Thibault felt the fever passing from him, it was succeeded by a sensation of coldness, which almost amounted to shivering. He opened his eyes, all trembling with cold, and saw the priest at the foot of the bed saying the prayers for the dying, and the hands of the actual clock pointing to a quarter past nine. His senses had become so acute, that, imperceptible as was their double movement, he could yet see both the larger and smaller one slowly creeping along; they were gradually nearing the critical hour; half past nine! Although the face of the clock was in darkness, it seemed illuminated by some inward light. As the minute hand approached the number 6, a spasm becoming every instant more and more violent shook the dying man; his feet were like ice, and the numbness slowly, but steadily, mounted from the feet to the knees, from the knees to the thighs, from the thighs to the lower part of the body. The sweat was running down his forehead, but he had no strength to wipe it away, nor even to ask to have it done. It was a sweat of agony which he knew every moment might be the sweat of death. All kinds of strange shapes, which had nothing of the human about them, floated before his eyes; the light faded away; wings as of bats seemed to lift his body and carry it into some twilight region, which was neither life nor death, but seemed a part of both. Then the twilight itself grew darker and darker; his eyes closed, and like a blind man stumbling in the dark, his heavy wings seemed to flap against strange and unknown things. After that he sank away into unfathomable depths, into bottomless abysses, but still he heard the sound of a bell. The bell rang once, and scarcely had it ceased to vibrate when the dying man uttered a cry. The priest rose and went to the side of the bed; with that cry the Baron Raoul had breathed his last: it was exactly one second after the half hour after nine. CHAPTER XIX THE DEAD AND THE LIVING At the same moment that the trembling soul of the young Baron passed away, Thibault, awaking as if from an agitated sleep full of terrible dreams, sat up in his bed. He was surrounded by fire, every corner of his hut was in flames; at first he thought it was a continuation of his nightmare, but then he heard cries of, Death to the wizard! death to the sorcerer! death to the were-wolf! and he understood that some terrible attack was being made upon him. The flames came nearer, they reached the bed, he felt their heat upon him; a few seconds more and he would be burned alive in the midst of the flaming pile. Thibault leaped from his bed, seized his boar-spear, and dashed out of the back door of his hut. No sooner did his enemies see him rush through the fire and emerge from the smoke than their cries of death to him! death! were redoubled. One or two shots were fired at him; Thibault heard the bullets whizz past; those who shot at him wore the livery of the Grand Master, and Thibault recalled the menace of the lord of Vez, uttered against him a few days before. He was then beyond the pale of the law; he could be smoked out of his hole like a fox; he could be shot down like a buck. Luckily for Thibault, not one of the bullets struck him, and as the circle of fire made by the burning hut was not a large one, he was soon safely beyond it, and once again in shelter of the vast and gloomy forest, where, had it not been for the cries of the menials who were burning down his house, the silence would have been as complete as the darkness. He sat down at the foot of a tree and buried his head in his hands. The events of the last forty-eight hours had succeeded each other with such rapidity, that there was no lack of matter to serve as subjects of reflection to the shoe-maker. The twenty-four hours, during which he had lived another existence than his own, seemed to him like a dream, so much so, that he would not have dared to take his oath that all this recent affair between the Baron, and the Countess Jane, and the Comte de Mont-Gobert had really taken place. The church clock of Oigny struck ten, and he lifted his head. Ten o clock! and only half-an-hour before he had been still in the body of the Baron Raoul, as he lay dying in the house of the Cur of Puiseux. Ah! he exclaimed I must find out for certain what has happened! It is not quite three miles to Puiseux and I shall be there in half-an-hour; I should like to ascertain if the Baron is really dead. A melancholy howl made answer to his words; he looked round; his faithful body-guards were back again; he had his pack about him once more. Come, wolves! come, my only friends! he cried, let us be off! And he started with them across the forest in the direction of Puiseux. The huntsmen of the Lord of Vez, who were poking up the remaining embers of the ruined hut, saw a man pass, as in a vision, running at the head of a dozen or more wolves. They crossed themselves, and became more convinced than ever that Thibault was a wizard. And anybody else who had seen Thibault, flying along as swiftly as his swiftest wolf, and covering the ground between Oigny and Puiseux in less than a quarter of an hour, would certainly have thought so too. He stopped at the entrance to the village, and turning to his wolves, he said: Friend wolves, I have no further need of you to-night, and indeed, I wish to be alone. Amuse yourselves with the stables in the neighbourhood, I give you leave to do just what you like; and if you chance to come across one of those two-footed animals, called men, forget, friend wolves, that they claim to be made in the image of their Creator, and never fear to satisfy your appetite. Whereupon the wolves rushed off in different directions, uttering howls of joy, while Thibault went on into the village. The Cur s house adjoined the church, and Thibault made a circuit so as to avoid passing in front of the Cross. When he reached the presbytery, he looked in through one of the windows, and there he saw a bed with a lighted wax candle beside it; and over the bed itself was spread a sheet, and beneath the sheet could be seen the outlines of a figure lying rigid in death. There appeared to be no one in the house; the priest had no doubt gone to give notice of the death to the village authorities. Thibault went inside, and called the priest, but no one answered. He walked up to the bed, there could be no mistake about the body under the sheet being that of a dead man; he lifted the sheet, there could be no mistaking that the dead body was that of Raoul de Vauparfond. On his face lay the still, unearthly beauty which is born of eternity. His features, which in life had been somewhat too feminine for those of a man, had now assumed the sombre grandeur of death. At the first glance you might have thought he only slept; but on gazing longer you recognised in that immovable calm something more profound than sleep. The presence of one who carries a sickle for sceptre, and wears a shroud for mantle was unmistakeable, and you knew King Death was there. Thibault had left the door open, and he heard the sound of light footsteps approaching; at the back of the alcove hung a serge curtain, which masked a door by which he could retreat, if necessary, and he now went and placed himself behind it. A woman dressed in black, and covered with a black veil, paused in some hesitation at the door. The head of another woman passed in front of her s and looked carefully round the room. I think it is safe for Madame to go in; I see no one about, and besides, I will keep watch. The woman in black went in, walked slowly towards the bed, stopped a moment to wipe the perspiration from her forehead, then, without further hesitation, lifted the sheet which Thibault had thrown back over the face of the dead man; Thibault then saw that it was the Countess. Alas! she said, what they told me was true! Then she fell on her knees, praying and sobbing. Her prayer being ended, she rose again, kissed the pale forehead of the dead, and the blue marks of the wound through which the soul had fled. O my well-beloved, my Raoul; she murmured, who will tell me the name of your murderer? who will help me to avenge your death? As the Countess finished speaking, she gave a cry and started back; she seemed to hear a voice that answered, I will! and something had shaken the green serge curtain. The Countess however was no chicken-hearted woman; she took the candle that was burning at the head of the bed and went and looked behind the curtain; but no creature was to be seen, a closed door was all that met her eye. She put back the candle, took a pair of gold scissors from a little pocket case, cut off a curl of the dead man s hair, placed the curl in a black velvet sachet which hung over her heart, gave one last kiss to her dead lover, laid the sheet over his face, and left the house. Just as she was crossing the threshold, she met the priest, and drawing back, drew her veil more closely over her face. Who are you? asked the priest. I am Grief, she answered, and the priest made way for her to pass. The Countess and her attendant had come on foot, and were returning in the same manner, for the distance between Puiseux and Mont-Gobert was not much more than half-a-mile. When about half way along their road, a man, who had been hiding behind a willow tree, stepped forward and barred their further passage. Lisette screamed, but the Countess, without the least sign of fear, went up to the man, and asked: Who are you? The man who answered I will just now, when you were asking who would denounce the murderer to you. And you can help me to revenge myself on him? Whenever you like. At once? We cannot talk here very well. Where can we find a better place? In your own room for one. We must not enter the castle together. No; but I can go through the breach in the park wall: Mademoiselle Lisette can wait for me in the hut where Monsieur Raoul used to leave his horse, she can take me up the winding-stair and into your room. If you should be in your dressing-room, I will wait for you, as Monsieur Raoul waited the night before last. The two women shuddered from head to foot. Who are you to know all these details? asked the Countess. I will tell you when the time comes for me to tell you. The Countess hesitated a moment, then, recovering her resolution, she said: Very well then; come through the breach; Lisette will wait for you in the stable. Oh! Madame, cried the maid, I shall never dare to go and bring that man to you! I will go myself then, said the Countess. Well said! put in Thibault, there spoke a woman worth calling one! And so saying he slid down into a kind of ravine beside the road, and disappeared. Lisette very nearly fainted. Lean on me, Mademoiselle, said the Countess, and let us walk on; I am anxious to hear what this man has to say to me. The two women entered the castle by way of the farm; no one had seen them go out, and no one saw them return. On reaching her room, the Countess waited for Lisette to bring up the stranger. Ten minutes had elapsed when the maid hurried in with a pale face. Ah! Madame, she said, there was no need for me to go to fetch him. What do you mean? asked the Countess. Because he knew his way up as well as I did! And oh! Madame! if you knew what he said to me! That man is the devil, Madame, I feel sure! Show him in, said the Countess. I am here! said Thibault. You can leave us now, my girl, said the Countess to Lisette. The latter quitted the room and the Countess remained alone with Thibault. Thibault s appearance was not one to inspire confidence. He gave the impression of a man who had once and for all made up his mind, but it was also easy to see that it was for no good purpose; a Satanic smile played about his mouth, and there was a demoniacal light in his eyes. He had made no attempt to hide his red hairs, but had left them defiantly uncovered, and they hung over his forehead like a plume of flame. But still the Countess looked him full in the face without changing colour. My maid says that you know the way to my room; have you ever been here before? Yes, Madame, once. And when was that? The day before yesterday. At what time? From half-past ten till half-past twelve at night. The Countess looked steadily at him and said: That is not true. Would you like me to tell you what took place? During the time you mention? During the time I mention. Say on, replied the Countess, laconically. Thibault was equally laconic. Monsieur Raoul came in by that door, he said, pointing to the one leading into the corridor, and Lisette left him here alone. You entered the room by that one, he continued, indicating the dressing-room door, and you found him on his knees. Your hair was unbound, only fastened back by three diamond pins, you wore a pink silk dressing-gown, trimmed with lace, pink silk stockings, cloth-of-silver slippers and a chain of pearls round your neck. You describe my dress exactly, said the Countess, continue. You tried to pick a quarrel with Monsieur Raoul, first because he loitered in the corridors to kiss your waiting-maid; secondly, because someone had met him late at night on the road between Erneville and Villers-Cotterets; thirdly, because, at the ball given at the Castle, at which you yourself were not present, he danced four times with Madame de Bonneuil. Continue. In answer to your accusations, your lover made excuses for himself, some good, some bad; you, however, were satisfied with them for you were just forgiving him when Lisette rushed in full of alarm calling to Monsieur Raoul to escape, as your husband had just returned. Lisette was right, you can be nothing less than the devil, said the Countess with a sinister laugh, and I think we shall be able to do business together.... Finish your account. Then you and your maid together pushed Monsieur Raoul, who resisted, into the dressing-room; Lisette forced him along the corridors and through two or three rooms; they then went down a winding staircase, in the wing of the Castle opposite to the one by which they had gone up. On arriving at the foot of the staircase, the fugitives found the door locked; then they ran into a kind of office where Lisette opened the window, which was about seven or eight feet above the ground. Monsieur Raoul leaped down out of this window, ran to the stable, found his horse still there, but hamstrung; then he swore that if he met the Count at any time he would hamstring him as the Count had hamstrung his horse, for he thought it a cowardly act to injure a poor beast so unnecessarily. Then he went on foot to the breach, climbed it, and found the Count awaiting him outside the park, with his sword drawn. The Baron had his hunting-knife with him; he drew it, and the duel began. Was the Count alone? Wait ... the Count appeared to be alone; after the fourth or fifth pass the Count was wounded in the shoulder, and sank on one knee, crying: help, Lestocq! Then the Baron remembered his oath, and hamstrung the Count as he had hamstrung the horse; but as the Baron rose, Lestocq drove his knife into his back; it passed under the shoulder blade and out through the chest. I need not tell you where ... you kissed the wound yourself. And after that? The Count and his huntsman returned to the Castle, leaving the Baron lying helpless; when the latter came to, he made signs to some passing peasants, who put him on a litter, and bore him away, with the intention of taking him to Villers-Cotterets; but he was in such pain, that they could not carry him farther than Puiseux; there they laid him on the bed where you found him, and on which he breathed his last a second after the half hour after nine in the evening. The Countess rose, and without speaking, went to her jewel-case and took out the pearls she had worn two nights before. She handed them to Thibault. What are they for? he asked. Take them, said the Countess, they are worth fifty thousand livres. Are you still anxious for revenge? Yes, replied the Countess. Revenge will cost more than that. How much will it cost? Wait for me to-morrow night, said Thibault, and I will tell you. Where shall I await you? asked the Countess. Here, said Thibault, with the leer of a wild animal. I will await you here, said the Countess. Till to-morrow then. Till to-morrow. Thibault went out. The Countess went and replaced the pearls in her dressing case; lifted up a false bottom, and drew from underneath it a small bottle containing an opal-coloured liquid, and a little dagger with a jewelled handle and case, and a blade inlaid with gold. She hid both beneath her pillow, knelt at her prie-dieu, and, her prayer finished, threw herself dressed on to her bed.... CHAPTER XX TRUE TO TRYST On quitting the Countess s room, Thibault had left the castle by the way which he had described to her, and soon found himself safe beyond its walls and outside the park. And now, for the first time in his life, Thibault had really nowhere to go. His hut was burnt, he was without a friend, and like Cain, he was a wanderer on the face of the earth. He turned to the unfailing shelter of the forest, and there made his way to the lower end of Chavigny; as the day was breaking he came across a solitary house, and asked if he could buy some bread. The woman belonging to it, her husband being away, gave him some, but refused to receive payment for it; his appearance frightened her. Having now food sufficient for the day, Thibault returned to the forest, with the intention of spending his time till evening in a part which he knew between Fleury and Longpont, where the trees were especially thick and tall. As he was looking for a resting place behind a rock, his eye was attracted by a shining object lying at the bottom of a slope, and his curiosity led him to climb down and see what it was. The shining object was the silver badge belonging to a huntsman s shoulder-belt; the shoulder-belt was slung round the neck of a dead body, or rather of a skeleton, for the flesh had been entirely eaten off the bones, which were as clean as if prepared for an anatomist s study or a painter s studio. The skeleton looked as if it had only lain there since the preceding night. Ah! ah! said Thibault, this is probably the work of my friends, the wolves; they evidently profited by the permission which I gave them. Curious to know if possible who the victim was, he examined it more closely; his curiosity was soon satisfied, for the badge, which the wolves had no doubt rejected as less easily digestible than the rest, was lying on the chest of the skeleton, like a ticket on a bale of goods. J. B. LESTOCQ, Head Keeper to the Comte de Mont-Gobert. Well done! laughed Thibault, here is one at least who did not live long to enjoy the result of his murderous act. Then, contracting his brow, he muttered to himself, in a low voice, and this time without laughing: Is there perhaps, after all, what people call a Providence? Lestocq s death was not difficult to account for. He had probably been executing some order for his master that night, and on the road between Mont-Gobert and Longpont, had been attacked by wolves. He had defended himself with the same knife with which he had wounded the Baron, for Thibault found the knife a few paces off, at a spot where the ground showed traces of a severe struggle; at last, being disarmed, the ferocious beasts had dragged him into the hollow, and there devoured him. Thibault was becoming so indifferent to everything that he felt neither pleasure nor regret, neither satisfaction nor remorse, at Lestocq s death; all he thought was, that it simplified matters for the Countess, as she would now only have her husband upon whom she need revenge herself. Then he went and found a place where the rocks afforded him the best shelter from the wind, and prepared to spend his day there in peace. Towards mid-day, he heard the horn of the Lord of Vez, and the cry of his hounds; the mighty huntsman was after game, but the chase did not pass near enough to Thibault to disturb him. At last the night came. At nine o clock Thibault rose and set out for the Castle of Mont-Gobert. He found the breach, followed the path he knew, and came to the little hut where Lisette had been awaiting him on the night when he had come in the guise of Raoul. The poor girl was there this evening, but alarmed and trembling. Thibault wished to carry out the old traditions and tried to kiss her, but she sprang back with visible signs of fear. Do not touch me, she said, or I shall call out. Oh, indeed! my pretty one, said Thibault, you were not so sour-tempered the other day with the Baron Raoul. May be not, said the girl, but a great many things have happened since the other day. And many more to happen still, said Thibault in a lively tone. I think, said the waiting-maid in a mournful voice, that the climax is already reached. Then, as she went on in front. If you wish to come, she added, follow me. Thibault followed her; Lisette, without the slightest effort at concealment, walked straight across the open space that lay between the trees and the castle. You are courageous to-day, said Thibault, and supposing some one were to see us.... There is no fear now, she answered, the eyes that could have seen us are all closed. Although he did not understand what the young girl meant by these words, the tone in which they were spoken made Thibault shiver. He continued to follow her in silence as they went up the winding-stairs to the first floor. As Lisette laid her hand on the key of the door, Thibault suddenly stopped her. Something in the silence and solitude of the castle filled him with fear; it seemed as if a curse might have fallen on the place. Where are we going? said Thibault, scarcely knowing himself what he said. You know well enough, surely. Into the Countess s room? Into the Countess s room. She is waiting for me? She is waiting for you. And Lisette opened the door. Go in, she said. Thibault went in, and Lisette shut the door behind him and waited outside. It was the same exquisite room, lighted in the same manner, filled with the same sweet scent. Thibault looked round for the Countess, he expected to see her appear at the dressing-room door, but the door remained closed. Not a sound was to be heard in the room, except the ticking of the S vres clock, and the beating of Thibault s heart. He began to look about him with a feeling of shuddering fear for which he could not account; then his eyes fell on the bed; the Countess was lying asleep upon it. In her hair were the same diamond pins, round her neck the same pearls; she was dressed in the same pink silk dressing-gown, and had on the same little slippers of cloth of silver which she had worn to receive the Baron Raoul.

dieu

How many times the word 'dieu' appears in the text?

thus within its cell. But he could still hear the priest, who not only spoke to him, but endeavoured by shaking him to arouse him from his lethargy. Thibault found this very fatiguing, and it was lucky for the priest that the wounded man, just now, had no superhuman power, for he inwardly sent the good man to the devil, many times over. Before long it seemed to him that some sort of hot burning pan was being inserted under the soles of his feet, his loins, his head; his blood began to circulate, then to boil, like water over a fire. His ideas became confused, his clenched jaws opened; his tongue which had been bound became loosened; some disconnected words escaped him. Ah, ah! he thought to himself, this no doubt is what the good doctor spoke about as delirium; and, for the while at least, this was his last lucid idea. His whole life--and his life had really only existed since his first acquaintance with the black wolf--passed before him. He saw himself following, and failing to hit the buck; saw himself tied to the oak-tree, and the blows of the strap falling on him; saw himself and the black wolf drawing up their compact; saw himself trying to pass the devil s ring over Agnelette s finger; saw himself trying to pull out the red hairs, which now covered a third of his head. Then he saw himself on his way to pay court to the pretty Madame Polet of the mill, meeting Landry, and getting rid of his rival; pursued by the farm servants, and followed by his wolves. He saw himself making the acquaintance of Madame Magloire, hunting for her, eating his share of the game, hiding behind the curtains, discovered by Ma tre Magloire, flouted by the Baron of Vez, turned out by all three. Again he saw the hollow tree, with his wolves couching around it and the owls perched on its branches, and heard the sounds of the approaching violins and hautboy and saw himself looking, as Agnelette and the happy wedding party went by. He saw himself the victim of angry jealousy, endeavouring to fight against it by the help of drink, and across his troubled brain came the recollection of Fran ois, of Champagne, and the Inn-keeper; he heard the galloping of Baron Raoul s horse, and he felt himself knocked down and rolling in the muddy road. Then he ceased to see himself as Thibault; in his stead arose the figure of the handsome young rider whose form he had taken for a while. Once more he was kissing Lisette, once more his lips were touching the Countess s hand; then he was wanting to escape, but he found himself at a cross-road where three ways only met, and each of these was guarded by one of his victims: the first, by the spectre of a drowned man, that was Marcotte; the second, by a young man dying of fever on a hospital bed, that was Landry; the third, by a wounded man, dragging himself along on one knee, and trying in vain to stand up on his mutilated leg, that was the Comte de Mont-Gobert. He fancied that as all these things passed before him, he told the history of them one by one, and that the priest, as he listened to this strange confession, looked more like a dying man, was paler and more trembling than the man whose confession he was listening to; that he wanted to give him absolution, but that he, Thibault, pushed him away, shaking his head, and that he cried out with a terrible laugh: I want no absolution! I am damned! damned! damned! And in the midst of all this hallucination, this delirious madness, the spirit of Thibault could hear the priest s clock striking the hours, and as they struck he counted them. Only this clock seemed to have grown to gigantic proportions and the face of it was the blue vault of heaven, and the numbers on it were flames; and the clock was called eternity, and the monstrous pendulum, as it swung backwards and forwards called out in turn at every beat: Never! For ever! And so he lay and heard the long hours of the day pass one by one; and then at last the clock struck nine. At half past nine, he, Thibault, would have been Raoul, and Raoul would have been Thibault, for just four and twenty hours. As the last stroke of the hour died away, Thibault felt the fever passing from him, it was succeeded by a sensation of coldness, which almost amounted to shivering. He opened his eyes, all trembling with cold, and saw the priest at the foot of the bed saying the prayers for the dying, and the hands of the actual clock pointing to a quarter past nine. His senses had become so acute, that, imperceptible as was their double movement, he could yet see both the larger and smaller one slowly creeping along; they were gradually nearing the critical hour; half past nine! Although the face of the clock was in darkness, it seemed illuminated by some inward light. As the minute hand approached the number 6, a spasm becoming every instant more and more violent shook the dying man; his feet were like ice, and the numbness slowly, but steadily, mounted from the feet to the knees, from the knees to the thighs, from the thighs to the lower part of the body. The sweat was running down his forehead, but he had no strength to wipe it away, nor even to ask to have it done. It was a sweat of agony which he knew every moment might be the sweat of death. All kinds of strange shapes, which had nothing of the human about them, floated before his eyes; the light faded away; wings as of bats seemed to lift his body and carry it into some twilight region, which was neither life nor death, but seemed a part of both. Then the twilight itself grew darker and darker; his eyes closed, and like a blind man stumbling in the dark, his heavy wings seemed to flap against strange and unknown things. After that he sank away into unfathomable depths, into bottomless abysses, but still he heard the sound of a bell. The bell rang once, and scarcely had it ceased to vibrate when the dying man uttered a cry. The priest rose and went to the side of the bed; with that cry the Baron Raoul had breathed his last: it was exactly one second after the half hour after nine. CHAPTER XIX THE DEAD AND THE LIVING At the same moment that the trembling soul of the young Baron passed away, Thibault, awaking as if from an agitated sleep full of terrible dreams, sat up in his bed. He was surrounded by fire, every corner of his hut was in flames; at first he thought it was a continuation of his nightmare, but then he heard cries of, Death to the wizard! death to the sorcerer! death to the were-wolf! and he understood that some terrible attack was being made upon him. The flames came nearer, they reached the bed, he felt their heat upon him; a few seconds more and he would be burned alive in the midst of the flaming pile. Thibault leaped from his bed, seized his boar-spear, and dashed out of the back door of his hut. No sooner did his enemies see him rush through the fire and emerge from the smoke than their cries of death to him! death! were redoubled. One or two shots were fired at him; Thibault heard the bullets whizz past; those who shot at him wore the livery of the Grand Master, and Thibault recalled the menace of the lord of Vez, uttered against him a few days before. He was then beyond the pale of the law; he could be smoked out of his hole like a fox; he could be shot down like a buck. Luckily for Thibault, not one of the bullets struck him, and as the circle of fire made by the burning hut was not a large one, he was soon safely beyond it, and once again in shelter of the vast and gloomy forest, where, had it not been for the cries of the menials who were burning down his house, the silence would have been as complete as the darkness. He sat down at the foot of a tree and buried his head in his hands. The events of the last forty-eight hours had succeeded each other with such rapidity, that there was no lack of matter to serve as subjects of reflection to the shoe-maker. The twenty-four hours, during which he had lived another existence than his own, seemed to him like a dream, so much so, that he would not have dared to take his oath that all this recent affair between the Baron, and the Countess Jane, and the Comte de Mont-Gobert had really taken place. The church clock of Oigny struck ten, and he lifted his head. Ten o clock! and only half-an-hour before he had been still in the body of the Baron Raoul, as he lay dying in the house of the Cur of Puiseux. Ah! he exclaimed I must find out for certain what has happened! It is not quite three miles to Puiseux and I shall be there in half-an-hour; I should like to ascertain if the Baron is really dead. A melancholy howl made answer to his words; he looked round; his faithful body-guards were back again; he had his pack about him once more. Come, wolves! come, my only friends! he cried, let us be off! And he started with them across the forest in the direction of Puiseux. The huntsmen of the Lord of Vez, who were poking up the remaining embers of the ruined hut, saw a man pass, as in a vision, running at the head of a dozen or more wolves. They crossed themselves, and became more convinced than ever that Thibault was a wizard. And anybody else who had seen Thibault, flying along as swiftly as his swiftest wolf, and covering the ground between Oigny and Puiseux in less than a quarter of an hour, would certainly have thought so too. He stopped at the entrance to the village, and turning to his wolves, he said: Friend wolves, I have no further need of you to-night, and indeed, I wish to be alone. Amuse yourselves with the stables in the neighbourhood, I give you leave to do just what you like; and if you chance to come across one of those two-footed animals, called men, forget, friend wolves, that they claim to be made in the image of their Creator, and never fear to satisfy your appetite. Whereupon the wolves rushed off in different directions, uttering howls of joy, while Thibault went on into the village. The Cur s house adjoined the church, and Thibault made a circuit so as to avoid passing in front of the Cross. When he reached the presbytery, he looked in through one of the windows, and there he saw a bed with a lighted wax candle beside it; and over the bed itself was spread a sheet, and beneath the sheet could be seen the outlines of a figure lying rigid in death. There appeared to be no one in the house; the priest had no doubt gone to give notice of the death to the village authorities. Thibault went inside, and called the priest, but no one answered. He walked up to the bed, there could be no mistake about the body under the sheet being that of a dead man; he lifted the sheet, there could be no mistaking that the dead body was that of Raoul de Vauparfond. On his face lay the still, unearthly beauty which is born of eternity. His features, which in life had been somewhat too feminine for those of a man, had now assumed the sombre grandeur of death. At the first glance you might have thought he only slept; but on gazing longer you recognised in that immovable calm something more profound than sleep. The presence of one who carries a sickle for sceptre, and wears a shroud for mantle was unmistakeable, and you knew King Death was there. Thibault had left the door open, and he heard the sound of light footsteps approaching; at the back of the alcove hung a serge curtain, which masked a door by which he could retreat, if necessary, and he now went and placed himself behind it. A woman dressed in black, and covered with a black veil, paused in some hesitation at the door. The head of another woman passed in front of her s and looked carefully round the room. I think it is safe for Madame to go in; I see no one about, and besides, I will keep watch. The woman in black went in, walked slowly towards the bed, stopped a moment to wipe the perspiration from her forehead, then, without further hesitation, lifted the sheet which Thibault had thrown back over the face of the dead man; Thibault then saw that it was the Countess. Alas! she said, what they told me was true! Then she fell on her knees, praying and sobbing. Her prayer being ended, she rose again, kissed the pale forehead of the dead, and the blue marks of the wound through which the soul had fled. O my well-beloved, my Raoul; she murmured, who will tell me the name of your murderer? who will help me to avenge your death? As the Countess finished speaking, she gave a cry and started back; she seemed to hear a voice that answered, I will! and something had shaken the green serge curtain. The Countess however was no chicken-hearted woman; she took the candle that was burning at the head of the bed and went and looked behind the curtain; but no creature was to be seen, a closed door was all that met her eye. She put back the candle, took a pair of gold scissors from a little pocket case, cut off a curl of the dead man s hair, placed the curl in a black velvet sachet which hung over her heart, gave one last kiss to her dead lover, laid the sheet over his face, and left the house. Just as she was crossing the threshold, she met the priest, and drawing back, drew her veil more closely over her face. Who are you? asked the priest. I am Grief, she answered, and the priest made way for her to pass. The Countess and her attendant had come on foot, and were returning in the same manner, for the distance between Puiseux and Mont-Gobert was not much more than half-a-mile. When about half way along their road, a man, who had been hiding behind a willow tree, stepped forward and barred their further passage. Lisette screamed, but the Countess, without the least sign of fear, went up to the man, and asked: Who are you? The man who answered I will just now, when you were asking who would denounce the murderer to you. And you can help me to revenge myself on him? Whenever you like. At once? We cannot talk here very well. Where can we find a better place? In your own room for one. We must not enter the castle together. No; but I can go through the breach in the park wall: Mademoiselle Lisette can wait for me in the hut where Monsieur Raoul used to leave his horse, she can take me up the winding-stair and into your room. If you should be in your dressing-room, I will wait for you, as Monsieur Raoul waited the night before last. The two women shuddered from head to foot. Who are you to know all these details? asked the Countess. I will tell you when the time comes for me to tell you. The Countess hesitated a moment, then, recovering her resolution, she said: Very well then; come through the breach; Lisette will wait for you in the stable. Oh! Madame, cried the maid, I shall never dare to go and bring that man to you! I will go myself then, said the Countess. Well said! put in Thibault, there spoke a woman worth calling one! And so saying he slid down into a kind of ravine beside the road, and disappeared. Lisette very nearly fainted. Lean on me, Mademoiselle, said the Countess, and let us walk on; I am anxious to hear what this man has to say to me. The two women entered the castle by way of the farm; no one had seen them go out, and no one saw them return. On reaching her room, the Countess waited for Lisette to bring up the stranger. Ten minutes had elapsed when the maid hurried in with a pale face. Ah! Madame, she said, there was no need for me to go to fetch him. What do you mean? asked the Countess. Because he knew his way up as well as I did! And oh! Madame! if you knew what he said to me! That man is the devil, Madame, I feel sure! Show him in, said the Countess. I am here! said Thibault. You can leave us now, my girl, said the Countess to Lisette. The latter quitted the room and the Countess remained alone with Thibault. Thibault s appearance was not one to inspire confidence. He gave the impression of a man who had once and for all made up his mind, but it was also easy to see that it was for no good purpose; a Satanic smile played about his mouth, and there was a demoniacal light in his eyes. He had made no attempt to hide his red hairs, but had left them defiantly uncovered, and they hung over his forehead like a plume of flame. But still the Countess looked him full in the face without changing colour. My maid says that you know the way to my room; have you ever been here before? Yes, Madame, once. And when was that? The day before yesterday. At what time? From half-past ten till half-past twelve at night. The Countess looked steadily at him and said: That is not true. Would you like me to tell you what took place? During the time you mention? During the time I mention. Say on, replied the Countess, laconically. Thibault was equally laconic. Monsieur Raoul came in by that door, he said, pointing to the one leading into the corridor, and Lisette left him here alone. You entered the room by that one, he continued, indicating the dressing-room door, and you found him on his knees. Your hair was unbound, only fastened back by three diamond pins, you wore a pink silk dressing-gown, trimmed with lace, pink silk stockings, cloth-of-silver slippers and a chain of pearls round your neck. You describe my dress exactly, said the Countess, continue. You tried to pick a quarrel with Monsieur Raoul, first because he loitered in the corridors to kiss your waiting-maid; secondly, because someone had met him late at night on the road between Erneville and Villers-Cotterets; thirdly, because, at the ball given at the Castle, at which you yourself were not present, he danced four times with Madame de Bonneuil. Continue. In answer to your accusations, your lover made excuses for himself, some good, some bad; you, however, were satisfied with them for you were just forgiving him when Lisette rushed in full of alarm calling to Monsieur Raoul to escape, as your husband had just returned. Lisette was right, you can be nothing less than the devil, said the Countess with a sinister laugh, and I think we shall be able to do business together.... Finish your account. Then you and your maid together pushed Monsieur Raoul, who resisted, into the dressing-room; Lisette forced him along the corridors and through two or three rooms; they then went down a winding staircase, in the wing of the Castle opposite to the one by which they had gone up. On arriving at the foot of the staircase, the fugitives found the door locked; then they ran into a kind of office where Lisette opened the window, which was about seven or eight feet above the ground. Monsieur Raoul leaped down out of this window, ran to the stable, found his horse still there, but hamstrung; then he swore that if he met the Count at any time he would hamstring him as the Count had hamstrung his horse, for he thought it a cowardly act to injure a poor beast so unnecessarily. Then he went on foot to the breach, climbed it, and found the Count awaiting him outside the park, with his sword drawn. The Baron had his hunting-knife with him; he drew it, and the duel began. Was the Count alone? Wait ... the Count appeared to be alone; after the fourth or fifth pass the Count was wounded in the shoulder, and sank on one knee, crying: help, Lestocq! Then the Baron remembered his oath, and hamstrung the Count as he had hamstrung the horse; but as the Baron rose, Lestocq drove his knife into his back; it passed under the shoulder blade and out through the chest. I need not tell you where ... you kissed the wound yourself. And after that? The Count and his huntsman returned to the Castle, leaving the Baron lying helpless; when the latter came to, he made signs to some passing peasants, who put him on a litter, and bore him away, with the intention of taking him to Villers-Cotterets; but he was in such pain, that they could not carry him farther than Puiseux; there they laid him on the bed where you found him, and on which he breathed his last a second after the half hour after nine in the evening. The Countess rose, and without speaking, went to her jewel-case and took out the pearls she had worn two nights before. She handed them to Thibault. What are they for? he asked. Take them, said the Countess, they are worth fifty thousand livres. Are you still anxious for revenge? Yes, replied the Countess. Revenge will cost more than that. How much will it cost? Wait for me to-morrow night, said Thibault, and I will tell you. Where shall I await you? asked the Countess. Here, said Thibault, with the leer of a wild animal. I will await you here, said the Countess. Till to-morrow then. Till to-morrow. Thibault went out. The Countess went and replaced the pearls in her dressing case; lifted up a false bottom, and drew from underneath it a small bottle containing an opal-coloured liquid, and a little dagger with a jewelled handle and case, and a blade inlaid with gold. She hid both beneath her pillow, knelt at her prie-dieu, and, her prayer finished, threw herself dressed on to her bed.... CHAPTER XX TRUE TO TRYST On quitting the Countess s room, Thibault had left the castle by the way which he had described to her, and soon found himself safe beyond its walls and outside the park. And now, for the first time in his life, Thibault had really nowhere to go. His hut was burnt, he was without a friend, and like Cain, he was a wanderer on the face of the earth. He turned to the unfailing shelter of the forest, and there made his way to the lower end of Chavigny; as the day was breaking he came across a solitary house, and asked if he could buy some bread. The woman belonging to it, her husband being away, gave him some, but refused to receive payment for it; his appearance frightened her. Having now food sufficient for the day, Thibault returned to the forest, with the intention of spending his time till evening in a part which he knew between Fleury and Longpont, where the trees were especially thick and tall. As he was looking for a resting place behind a rock, his eye was attracted by a shining object lying at the bottom of a slope, and his curiosity led him to climb down and see what it was. The shining object was the silver badge belonging to a huntsman s shoulder-belt; the shoulder-belt was slung round the neck of a dead body, or rather of a skeleton, for the flesh had been entirely eaten off the bones, which were as clean as if prepared for an anatomist s study or a painter s studio. The skeleton looked as if it had only lain there since the preceding night. Ah! ah! said Thibault, this is probably the work of my friends, the wolves; they evidently profited by the permission which I gave them. Curious to know if possible who the victim was, he examined it more closely; his curiosity was soon satisfied, for the badge, which the wolves had no doubt rejected as less easily digestible than the rest, was lying on the chest of the skeleton, like a ticket on a bale of goods. J. B. LESTOCQ, Head Keeper to the Comte de Mont-Gobert. Well done! laughed Thibault, here is one at least who did not live long to enjoy the result of his murderous act. Then, contracting his brow, he muttered to himself, in a low voice, and this time without laughing: Is there perhaps, after all, what people call a Providence? Lestocq s death was not difficult to account for. He had probably been executing some order for his master that night, and on the road between Mont-Gobert and Longpont, had been attacked by wolves. He had defended himself with the same knife with which he had wounded the Baron, for Thibault found the knife a few paces off, at a spot where the ground showed traces of a severe struggle; at last, being disarmed, the ferocious beasts had dragged him into the hollow, and there devoured him. Thibault was becoming so indifferent to everything that he felt neither pleasure nor regret, neither satisfaction nor remorse, at Lestocq s death; all he thought was, that it simplified matters for the Countess, as she would now only have her husband upon whom she need revenge herself. Then he went and found a place where the rocks afforded him the best shelter from the wind, and prepared to spend his day there in peace. Towards mid-day, he heard the horn of the Lord of Vez, and the cry of his hounds; the mighty huntsman was after game, but the chase did not pass near enough to Thibault to disturb him. At last the night came. At nine o clock Thibault rose and set out for the Castle of Mont-Gobert. He found the breach, followed the path he knew, and came to the little hut where Lisette had been awaiting him on the night when he had come in the guise of Raoul. The poor girl was there this evening, but alarmed and trembling. Thibault wished to carry out the old traditions and tried to kiss her, but she sprang back with visible signs of fear. Do not touch me, she said, or I shall call out. Oh, indeed! my pretty one, said Thibault, you were not so sour-tempered the other day with the Baron Raoul. May be not, said the girl, but a great many things have happened since the other day. And many more to happen still, said Thibault in a lively tone. I think, said the waiting-maid in a mournful voice, that the climax is already reached. Then, as she went on in front. If you wish to come, she added, follow me. Thibault followed her; Lisette, without the slightest effort at concealment, walked straight across the open space that lay between the trees and the castle. You are courageous to-day, said Thibault, and supposing some one were to see us.... There is no fear now, she answered, the eyes that could have seen us are all closed. Although he did not understand what the young girl meant by these words, the tone in which they were spoken made Thibault shiver. He continued to follow her in silence as they went up the winding-stairs to the first floor. As Lisette laid her hand on the key of the door, Thibault suddenly stopped her. Something in the silence and solitude of the castle filled him with fear; it seemed as if a curse might have fallen on the place. Where are we going? said Thibault, scarcely knowing himself what he said. You know well enough, surely. Into the Countess s room? Into the Countess s room. She is waiting for me? She is waiting for you. And Lisette opened the door. Go in, she said. Thibault went in, and Lisette shut the door behind him and waited outside. It was the same exquisite room, lighted in the same manner, filled with the same sweet scent. Thibault looked round for the Countess, he expected to see her appear at the dressing-room door, but the door remained closed. Not a sound was to be heard in the room, except the ticking of the S vres clock, and the beating of Thibault s heart. He began to look about him with a feeling of shuddering fear for which he could not account; then his eyes fell on the bed; the Countess was lying asleep upon it. In her hair were the same diamond pins, round her neck the same pearls; she was dressed in the same pink silk dressing-gown, and had on the same little slippers of cloth of silver which she had worn to receive the Baron Raoul.

caused

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thus within its cell. But he could still hear the priest, who not only spoke to him, but endeavoured by shaking him to arouse him from his lethargy. Thibault found this very fatiguing, and it was lucky for the priest that the wounded man, just now, had no superhuman power, for he inwardly sent the good man to the devil, many times over. Before long it seemed to him that some sort of hot burning pan was being inserted under the soles of his feet, his loins, his head; his blood began to circulate, then to boil, like water over a fire. His ideas became confused, his clenched jaws opened; his tongue which had been bound became loosened; some disconnected words escaped him. Ah, ah! he thought to himself, this no doubt is what the good doctor spoke about as delirium; and, for the while at least, this was his last lucid idea. His whole life--and his life had really only existed since his first acquaintance with the black wolf--passed before him. He saw himself following, and failing to hit the buck; saw himself tied to the oak-tree, and the blows of the strap falling on him; saw himself and the black wolf drawing up their compact; saw himself trying to pass the devil s ring over Agnelette s finger; saw himself trying to pull out the red hairs, which now covered a third of his head. Then he saw himself on his way to pay court to the pretty Madame Polet of the mill, meeting Landry, and getting rid of his rival; pursued by the farm servants, and followed by his wolves. He saw himself making the acquaintance of Madame Magloire, hunting for her, eating his share of the game, hiding behind the curtains, discovered by Ma tre Magloire, flouted by the Baron of Vez, turned out by all three. Again he saw the hollow tree, with his wolves couching around it and the owls perched on its branches, and heard the sounds of the approaching violins and hautboy and saw himself looking, as Agnelette and the happy wedding party went by. He saw himself the victim of angry jealousy, endeavouring to fight against it by the help of drink, and across his troubled brain came the recollection of Fran ois, of Champagne, and the Inn-keeper; he heard the galloping of Baron Raoul s horse, and he felt himself knocked down and rolling in the muddy road. Then he ceased to see himself as Thibault; in his stead arose the figure of the handsome young rider whose form he had taken for a while. Once more he was kissing Lisette, once more his lips were touching the Countess s hand; then he was wanting to escape, but he found himself at a cross-road where three ways only met, and each of these was guarded by one of his victims: the first, by the spectre of a drowned man, that was Marcotte; the second, by a young man dying of fever on a hospital bed, that was Landry; the third, by a wounded man, dragging himself along on one knee, and trying in vain to stand up on his mutilated leg, that was the Comte de Mont-Gobert. He fancied that as all these things passed before him, he told the history of them one by one, and that the priest, as he listened to this strange confession, looked more like a dying man, was paler and more trembling than the man whose confession he was listening to; that he wanted to give him absolution, but that he, Thibault, pushed him away, shaking his head, and that he cried out with a terrible laugh: I want no absolution! I am damned! damned! damned! And in the midst of all this hallucination, this delirious madness, the spirit of Thibault could hear the priest s clock striking the hours, and as they struck he counted them. Only this clock seemed to have grown to gigantic proportions and the face of it was the blue vault of heaven, and the numbers on it were flames; and the clock was called eternity, and the monstrous pendulum, as it swung backwards and forwards called out in turn at every beat: Never! For ever! And so he lay and heard the long hours of the day pass one by one; and then at last the clock struck nine. At half past nine, he, Thibault, would have been Raoul, and Raoul would have been Thibault, for just four and twenty hours. As the last stroke of the hour died away, Thibault felt the fever passing from him, it was succeeded by a sensation of coldness, which almost amounted to shivering. He opened his eyes, all trembling with cold, and saw the priest at the foot of the bed saying the prayers for the dying, and the hands of the actual clock pointing to a quarter past nine. His senses had become so acute, that, imperceptible as was their double movement, he could yet see both the larger and smaller one slowly creeping along; they were gradually nearing the critical hour; half past nine! Although the face of the clock was in darkness, it seemed illuminated by some inward light. As the minute hand approached the number 6, a spasm becoming every instant more and more violent shook the dying man; his feet were like ice, and the numbness slowly, but steadily, mounted from the feet to the knees, from the knees to the thighs, from the thighs to the lower part of the body. The sweat was running down his forehead, but he had no strength to wipe it away, nor even to ask to have it done. It was a sweat of agony which he knew every moment might be the sweat of death. All kinds of strange shapes, which had nothing of the human about them, floated before his eyes; the light faded away; wings as of bats seemed to lift his body and carry it into some twilight region, which was neither life nor death, but seemed a part of both. Then the twilight itself grew darker and darker; his eyes closed, and like a blind man stumbling in the dark, his heavy wings seemed to flap against strange and unknown things. After that he sank away into unfathomable depths, into bottomless abysses, but still he heard the sound of a bell. The bell rang once, and scarcely had it ceased to vibrate when the dying man uttered a cry. The priest rose and went to the side of the bed; with that cry the Baron Raoul had breathed his last: it was exactly one second after the half hour after nine. CHAPTER XIX THE DEAD AND THE LIVING At the same moment that the trembling soul of the young Baron passed away, Thibault, awaking as if from an agitated sleep full of terrible dreams, sat up in his bed. He was surrounded by fire, every corner of his hut was in flames; at first he thought it was a continuation of his nightmare, but then he heard cries of, Death to the wizard! death to the sorcerer! death to the were-wolf! and he understood that some terrible attack was being made upon him. The flames came nearer, they reached the bed, he felt their heat upon him; a few seconds more and he would be burned alive in the midst of the flaming pile. Thibault leaped from his bed, seized his boar-spear, and dashed out of the back door of his hut. No sooner did his enemies see him rush through the fire and emerge from the smoke than their cries of death to him! death! were redoubled. One or two shots were fired at him; Thibault heard the bullets whizz past; those who shot at him wore the livery of the Grand Master, and Thibault recalled the menace of the lord of Vez, uttered against him a few days before. He was then beyond the pale of the law; he could be smoked out of his hole like a fox; he could be shot down like a buck. Luckily for Thibault, not one of the bullets struck him, and as the circle of fire made by the burning hut was not a large one, he was soon safely beyond it, and once again in shelter of the vast and gloomy forest, where, had it not been for the cries of the menials who were burning down his house, the silence would have been as complete as the darkness. He sat down at the foot of a tree and buried his head in his hands. The events of the last forty-eight hours had succeeded each other with such rapidity, that there was no lack of matter to serve as subjects of reflection to the shoe-maker. The twenty-four hours, during which he had lived another existence than his own, seemed to him like a dream, so much so, that he would not have dared to take his oath that all this recent affair between the Baron, and the Countess Jane, and the Comte de Mont-Gobert had really taken place. The church clock of Oigny struck ten, and he lifted his head. Ten o clock! and only half-an-hour before he had been still in the body of the Baron Raoul, as he lay dying in the house of the Cur of Puiseux. Ah! he exclaimed I must find out for certain what has happened! It is not quite three miles to Puiseux and I shall be there in half-an-hour; I should like to ascertain if the Baron is really dead. A melancholy howl made answer to his words; he looked round; his faithful body-guards were back again; he had his pack about him once more. Come, wolves! come, my only friends! he cried, let us be off! And he started with them across the forest in the direction of Puiseux. The huntsmen of the Lord of Vez, who were poking up the remaining embers of the ruined hut, saw a man pass, as in a vision, running at the head of a dozen or more wolves. They crossed themselves, and became more convinced than ever that Thibault was a wizard. And anybody else who had seen Thibault, flying along as swiftly as his swiftest wolf, and covering the ground between Oigny and Puiseux in less than a quarter of an hour, would certainly have thought so too. He stopped at the entrance to the village, and turning to his wolves, he said: Friend wolves, I have no further need of you to-night, and indeed, I wish to be alone. Amuse yourselves with the stables in the neighbourhood, I give you leave to do just what you like; and if you chance to come across one of those two-footed animals, called men, forget, friend wolves, that they claim to be made in the image of their Creator, and never fear to satisfy your appetite. Whereupon the wolves rushed off in different directions, uttering howls of joy, while Thibault went on into the village. The Cur s house adjoined the church, and Thibault made a circuit so as to avoid passing in front of the Cross. When he reached the presbytery, he looked in through one of the windows, and there he saw a bed with a lighted wax candle beside it; and over the bed itself was spread a sheet, and beneath the sheet could be seen the outlines of a figure lying rigid in death. There appeared to be no one in the house; the priest had no doubt gone to give notice of the death to the village authorities. Thibault went inside, and called the priest, but no one answered. He walked up to the bed, there could be no mistake about the body under the sheet being that of a dead man; he lifted the sheet, there could be no mistaking that the dead body was that of Raoul de Vauparfond. On his face lay the still, unearthly beauty which is born of eternity. His features, which in life had been somewhat too feminine for those of a man, had now assumed the sombre grandeur of death. At the first glance you might have thought he only slept; but on gazing longer you recognised in that immovable calm something more profound than sleep. The presence of one who carries a sickle for sceptre, and wears a shroud for mantle was unmistakeable, and you knew King Death was there. Thibault had left the door open, and he heard the sound of light footsteps approaching; at the back of the alcove hung a serge curtain, which masked a door by which he could retreat, if necessary, and he now went and placed himself behind it. A woman dressed in black, and covered with a black veil, paused in some hesitation at the door. The head of another woman passed in front of her s and looked carefully round the room. I think it is safe for Madame to go in; I see no one about, and besides, I will keep watch. The woman in black went in, walked slowly towards the bed, stopped a moment to wipe the perspiration from her forehead, then, without further hesitation, lifted the sheet which Thibault had thrown back over the face of the dead man; Thibault then saw that it was the Countess. Alas! she said, what they told me was true! Then she fell on her knees, praying and sobbing. Her prayer being ended, she rose again, kissed the pale forehead of the dead, and the blue marks of the wound through which the soul had fled. O my well-beloved, my Raoul; she murmured, who will tell me the name of your murderer? who will help me to avenge your death? As the Countess finished speaking, she gave a cry and started back; she seemed to hear a voice that answered, I will! and something had shaken the green serge curtain. The Countess however was no chicken-hearted woman; she took the candle that was burning at the head of the bed and went and looked behind the curtain; but no creature was to be seen, a closed door was all that met her eye. She put back the candle, took a pair of gold scissors from a little pocket case, cut off a curl of the dead man s hair, placed the curl in a black velvet sachet which hung over her heart, gave one last kiss to her dead lover, laid the sheet over his face, and left the house. Just as she was crossing the threshold, she met the priest, and drawing back, drew her veil more closely over her face. Who are you? asked the priest. I am Grief, she answered, and the priest made way for her to pass. The Countess and her attendant had come on foot, and were returning in the same manner, for the distance between Puiseux and Mont-Gobert was not much more than half-a-mile. When about half way along their road, a man, who had been hiding behind a willow tree, stepped forward and barred their further passage. Lisette screamed, but the Countess, without the least sign of fear, went up to the man, and asked: Who are you? The man who answered I will just now, when you were asking who would denounce the murderer to you. And you can help me to revenge myself on him? Whenever you like. At once? We cannot talk here very well. Where can we find a better place? In your own room for one. We must not enter the castle together. No; but I can go through the breach in the park wall: Mademoiselle Lisette can wait for me in the hut where Monsieur Raoul used to leave his horse, she can take me up the winding-stair and into your room. If you should be in your dressing-room, I will wait for you, as Monsieur Raoul waited the night before last. The two women shuddered from head to foot. Who are you to know all these details? asked the Countess. I will tell you when the time comes for me to tell you. The Countess hesitated a moment, then, recovering her resolution, she said: Very well then; come through the breach; Lisette will wait for you in the stable. Oh! Madame, cried the maid, I shall never dare to go and bring that man to you! I will go myself then, said the Countess. Well said! put in Thibault, there spoke a woman worth calling one! And so saying he slid down into a kind of ravine beside the road, and disappeared. Lisette very nearly fainted. Lean on me, Mademoiselle, said the Countess, and let us walk on; I am anxious to hear what this man has to say to me. The two women entered the castle by way of the farm; no one had seen them go out, and no one saw them return. On reaching her room, the Countess waited for Lisette to bring up the stranger. Ten minutes had elapsed when the maid hurried in with a pale face. Ah! Madame, she said, there was no need for me to go to fetch him. What do you mean? asked the Countess. Because he knew his way up as well as I did! And oh! Madame! if you knew what he said to me! That man is the devil, Madame, I feel sure! Show him in, said the Countess. I am here! said Thibault. You can leave us now, my girl, said the Countess to Lisette. The latter quitted the room and the Countess remained alone with Thibault. Thibault s appearance was not one to inspire confidence. He gave the impression of a man who had once and for all made up his mind, but it was also easy to see that it was for no good purpose; a Satanic smile played about his mouth, and there was a demoniacal light in his eyes. He had made no attempt to hide his red hairs, but had left them defiantly uncovered, and they hung over his forehead like a plume of flame. But still the Countess looked him full in the face without changing colour. My maid says that you know the way to my room; have you ever been here before? Yes, Madame, once. And when was that? The day before yesterday. At what time? From half-past ten till half-past twelve at night. The Countess looked steadily at him and said: That is not true. Would you like me to tell you what took place? During the time you mention? During the time I mention. Say on, replied the Countess, laconically. Thibault was equally laconic. Monsieur Raoul came in by that door, he said, pointing to the one leading into the corridor, and Lisette left him here alone. You entered the room by that one, he continued, indicating the dressing-room door, and you found him on his knees. Your hair was unbound, only fastened back by three diamond pins, you wore a pink silk dressing-gown, trimmed with lace, pink silk stockings, cloth-of-silver slippers and a chain of pearls round your neck. You describe my dress exactly, said the Countess, continue. You tried to pick a quarrel with Monsieur Raoul, first because he loitered in the corridors to kiss your waiting-maid; secondly, because someone had met him late at night on the road between Erneville and Villers-Cotterets; thirdly, because, at the ball given at the Castle, at which you yourself were not present, he danced four times with Madame de Bonneuil. Continue. In answer to your accusations, your lover made excuses for himself, some good, some bad; you, however, were satisfied with them for you were just forgiving him when Lisette rushed in full of alarm calling to Monsieur Raoul to escape, as your husband had just returned. Lisette was right, you can be nothing less than the devil, said the Countess with a sinister laugh, and I think we shall be able to do business together.... Finish your account. Then you and your maid together pushed Monsieur Raoul, who resisted, into the dressing-room; Lisette forced him along the corridors and through two or three rooms; they then went down a winding staircase, in the wing of the Castle opposite to the one by which they had gone up. On arriving at the foot of the staircase, the fugitives found the door locked; then they ran into a kind of office where Lisette opened the window, which was about seven or eight feet above the ground. Monsieur Raoul leaped down out of this window, ran to the stable, found his horse still there, but hamstrung; then he swore that if he met the Count at any time he would hamstring him as the Count had hamstrung his horse, for he thought it a cowardly act to injure a poor beast so unnecessarily. Then he went on foot to the breach, climbed it, and found the Count awaiting him outside the park, with his sword drawn. The Baron had his hunting-knife with him; he drew it, and the duel began. Was the Count alone? Wait ... the Count appeared to be alone; after the fourth or fifth pass the Count was wounded in the shoulder, and sank on one knee, crying: help, Lestocq! Then the Baron remembered his oath, and hamstrung the Count as he had hamstrung the horse; but as the Baron rose, Lestocq drove his knife into his back; it passed under the shoulder blade and out through the chest. I need not tell you where ... you kissed the wound yourself. And after that? The Count and his huntsman returned to the Castle, leaving the Baron lying helpless; when the latter came to, he made signs to some passing peasants, who put him on a litter, and bore him away, with the intention of taking him to Villers-Cotterets; but he was in such pain, that they could not carry him farther than Puiseux; there they laid him on the bed where you found him, and on which he breathed his last a second after the half hour after nine in the evening. The Countess rose, and without speaking, went to her jewel-case and took out the pearls she had worn two nights before. She handed them to Thibault. What are they for? he asked. Take them, said the Countess, they are worth fifty thousand livres. Are you still anxious for revenge? Yes, replied the Countess. Revenge will cost more than that. How much will it cost? Wait for me to-morrow night, said Thibault, and I will tell you. Where shall I await you? asked the Countess. Here, said Thibault, with the leer of a wild animal. I will await you here, said the Countess. Till to-morrow then. Till to-morrow. Thibault went out. The Countess went and replaced the pearls in her dressing case; lifted up a false bottom, and drew from underneath it a small bottle containing an opal-coloured liquid, and a little dagger with a jewelled handle and case, and a blade inlaid with gold. She hid both beneath her pillow, knelt at her prie-dieu, and, her prayer finished, threw herself dressed on to her bed.... CHAPTER XX TRUE TO TRYST On quitting the Countess s room, Thibault had left the castle by the way which he had described to her, and soon found himself safe beyond its walls and outside the park. And now, for the first time in his life, Thibault had really nowhere to go. His hut was burnt, he was without a friend, and like Cain, he was a wanderer on the face of the earth. He turned to the unfailing shelter of the forest, and there made his way to the lower end of Chavigny; as the day was breaking he came across a solitary house, and asked if he could buy some bread. The woman belonging to it, her husband being away, gave him some, but refused to receive payment for it; his appearance frightened her. Having now food sufficient for the day, Thibault returned to the forest, with the intention of spending his time till evening in a part which he knew between Fleury and Longpont, where the trees were especially thick and tall. As he was looking for a resting place behind a rock, his eye was attracted by a shining object lying at the bottom of a slope, and his curiosity led him to climb down and see what it was. The shining object was the silver badge belonging to a huntsman s shoulder-belt; the shoulder-belt was slung round the neck of a dead body, or rather of a skeleton, for the flesh had been entirely eaten off the bones, which were as clean as if prepared for an anatomist s study or a painter s studio. The skeleton looked as if it had only lain there since the preceding night. Ah! ah! said Thibault, this is probably the work of my friends, the wolves; they evidently profited by the permission which I gave them. Curious to know if possible who the victim was, he examined it more closely; his curiosity was soon satisfied, for the badge, which the wolves had no doubt rejected as less easily digestible than the rest, was lying on the chest of the skeleton, like a ticket on a bale of goods. J. B. LESTOCQ, Head Keeper to the Comte de Mont-Gobert. Well done! laughed Thibault, here is one at least who did not live long to enjoy the result of his murderous act. Then, contracting his brow, he muttered to himself, in a low voice, and this time without laughing: Is there perhaps, after all, what people call a Providence? Lestocq s death was not difficult to account for. He had probably been executing some order for his master that night, and on the road between Mont-Gobert and Longpont, had been attacked by wolves. He had defended himself with the same knife with which he had wounded the Baron, for Thibault found the knife a few paces off, at a spot where the ground showed traces of a severe struggle; at last, being disarmed, the ferocious beasts had dragged him into the hollow, and there devoured him. Thibault was becoming so indifferent to everything that he felt neither pleasure nor regret, neither satisfaction nor remorse, at Lestocq s death; all he thought was, that it simplified matters for the Countess, as she would now only have her husband upon whom she need revenge herself. Then he went and found a place where the rocks afforded him the best shelter from the wind, and prepared to spend his day there in peace. Towards mid-day, he heard the horn of the Lord of Vez, and the cry of his hounds; the mighty huntsman was after game, but the chase did not pass near enough to Thibault to disturb him. At last the night came. At nine o clock Thibault rose and set out for the Castle of Mont-Gobert. He found the breach, followed the path he knew, and came to the little hut where Lisette had been awaiting him on the night when he had come in the guise of Raoul. The poor girl was there this evening, but alarmed and trembling. Thibault wished to carry out the old traditions and tried to kiss her, but she sprang back with visible signs of fear. Do not touch me, she said, or I shall call out. Oh, indeed! my pretty one, said Thibault, you were not so sour-tempered the other day with the Baron Raoul. May be not, said the girl, but a great many things have happened since the other day. And many more to happen still, said Thibault in a lively tone. I think, said the waiting-maid in a mournful voice, that the climax is already reached. Then, as she went on in front. If you wish to come, she added, follow me. Thibault followed her; Lisette, without the slightest effort at concealment, walked straight across the open space that lay between the trees and the castle. You are courageous to-day, said Thibault, and supposing some one were to see us.... There is no fear now, she answered, the eyes that could have seen us are all closed. Although he did not understand what the young girl meant by these words, the tone in which they were spoken made Thibault shiver. He continued to follow her in silence as they went up the winding-stairs to the first floor. As Lisette laid her hand on the key of the door, Thibault suddenly stopped her. Something in the silence and solitude of the castle filled him with fear; it seemed as if a curse might have fallen on the place. Where are we going? said Thibault, scarcely knowing himself what he said. You know well enough, surely. Into the Countess s room? Into the Countess s room. She is waiting for me? She is waiting for you. And Lisette opened the door. Go in, she said. Thibault went in, and Lisette shut the door behind him and waited outside. It was the same exquisite room, lighted in the same manner, filled with the same sweet scent. Thibault looked round for the Countess, he expected to see her appear at the dressing-room door, but the door remained closed. Not a sound was to be heard in the room, except the ticking of the S vres clock, and the beating of Thibault s heart. He began to look about him with a feeling of shuddering fear for which he could not account; then his eyes fell on the bed; the Countess was lying asleep upon it. In her hair were the same diamond pins, round her neck the same pearls; she was dressed in the same pink silk dressing-gown, and had on the same little slippers of cloth of silver which she had worn to receive the Baron Raoul.

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ticked off on her long, pointed fingers the last bevy of her admirers on whom she might reasonably count: the son of the chemist over in Arad, the tenant of the Kender Road farm, the proprietor of the station cabs, and there were two or three others; but they were certainly falling away, and she had added no new ones to her list these past six months. Er s B la's formally declared engagement to Kapus Elsa had been a very severe blow. She had really reckoned on B la. He was educated and unconventional, and though he professed the usual anti-Semitic views peculiar to his kind, Klara did not believe that these were very genuine. At any rate, she had reckoned that her fine eyes and provocative ways would tilt successfully against the man's racial prejudices. Er s B la was rich and certainly, up to a point, in love with her. Klara was congratulating herself on the way she was playing her matrimonial cards, when all her hopes were so suddenly dashed to the ground. B la was going to marry that silly, ignorant peasant girl, and she, Klara, would be left to marry Leopold after all. Her anger and humiliation had been very great, and she had battled very persistently and very ably to regain the prize which she had lost. She knew quite well that, but for the fact that she belonged to the alien and despised race, Er s B la would have been only too happy to marry her. His vanity alone had made him choose Kapus Elsa. He wanted the noted beauty for himself, because the noted beauty had been courted by so many people, and where so many people had failed he was proud to succeed. Nor would he have cared to have it said that he had married a Jewess. There is always a certain thought of disgrace attached to such a marriage, whether it has been contracted by peer or peasant, and Er s B la's one dominating idea in life was to keep the respect and deference of his native village. But he had continued his attentions to Klara, and Klara had kept a wonderful hold over his imagination and over his will. She was the one woman who had ever had her will with him--only partially, of course, and not to the extent of forcing him into matrimony--but sufficiently to keep him also dangling round her skirts even though his whole allegiance should have belonged to Elsa. The banquet this afternoon had been a veritable triumph. Whatever she had suffered through B la's final disloyalty to herself, she knew that Kapus Elsa must have suffered all through the banquet. The humiliation of seeing one's bridegroom openly flaunting his admiration for another woman must have been indeed very bitter to bear. Not for a moment did Klara Goldstein doubt that the subsequent scene was an act of vengeance against herself on Elsa's part. She judged other women by her own standard, discounted other women's emotions, thoughts, feelings, by her own. She thought it quite natural that Elsa should wish to be revenged, just as she was quite sure that B la was already meditating some kind of retaliation for the shame which Andor had put upon him and for Elsa's obstinacy and share in the matter. She had not spoken to anyone of the little scene which had occurred between the four walls of the little schoolroom: on the contrary she had spoken loudly of both the bridegroom's and the bride's cordiality to her during the banquet. "Elsa wanted me to go to the dancing this evening," she said casually, "but I thought you would all miss me. I didn't want this place to be dull just because half the village is enjoying itself somewhere else." It had been market day at Arad, and at about five o'clock Klara and her father became very busy. Cattle-dealers and pig-merchants, travellers and pedlars, dropped in for a glass of silvorium and a chat with the good-looking Jewess. More than one bargain, discussed on the marketplace of Arad, was concluded in the stuffy tap-room of Marosfalva. "Shall we be honoured by the young Count's presence later on?" someone asked, with a significant nod to Klara. Everyone laughed in sympathy; the admiration of the noble young Count for Klara Goldstein was well-known. There was nothing in it, of course; even Klara, vain and ambitious as she was, knew that the bridge which divided the aristocrat from one of her kind and of her race was an impassable one. But she liked the young Count's attentions--she liked the presents he brought her from time to time, and relished the notoriety which this flirtation gave her. She also loved to tease poor Leopold Hirsch. Leo had been passionately in love with her for years; what he must have endured in moral and mental torture during that time through his jealousy and often groundless suspicions no one who did not know him intimately could ever have guessed. These tortures which Klara wantonly inflicted upon the wretched young man had been a constant source of amusement to her. Even now she was delighted because, as luck would have it, he entered the tap-room at the very moment when everyone was chaffing her about the young Count. Leopold Hirsch cast a quick, suspicious glance upon the girl, and his dull olive skin assumed an almost greenish hue. He was not of prepossessing appearance; this he knew himself, and the knowledge helped to keep his jealousy and his suspicion aflame. He was short and lean of stature and his head, with its large, bony features, seemed too big for his narrow shoulders to carry. His ginger-coloured hair was lank and scanty; he wore it--after the manner of those of his race in that part of the world--in corkscrew ringlets down each side of his narrow, cadaverous-looking face. His eyes were pale and shifty, but every now and then there shot into them a curious gleam of unbridled passion--love, hate or revenge; and then the whole face would light up and compel attention by the revelation of latent power. This had happened now when a fellow who sat in the corner by the window made some rough jest about the young Count. Leopold made his way to Klara's side; his thin lips were tightly pressed together, and he had buried his hands in the pockets of his ill-fitting trousers. "If that accursed aristocrat comes hanging round here much more, Klara," he muttered between set teeth, "I'll kill him one of these days." "What a fool you are, Leopold!" she said. "Why, yesterday it was Er s B la you objected to." "And I do still," he retorted. "I heard of your conduct at the banquet to-day. It is the talk of the village. One by one these loutish peasants have come into my shop and told me the tale--curse them!--of how the bridegroom had eyes and ears only for you. You seem to forget, Klara," he added, while a thought of menace crept into his voice, "that you are tokened to me now. So don't try and make a fool of me, or . . ." "The Lord bless you, my good man," she retorted, with a laugh, "I won't try, I promise you. I wouldn't like to compete with the Almighty, who has done that for you already." "Klara . . ." he exclaimed. "Oh! be quiet now, Leo," she said impatiently. "Can't you see that my hands are as full as I can manage, without my having to bother about you and your jealous tempers?" She elbowed him aside and went to the counter to serve a customer who had just arrived, and more than a quarter of an hour went by before Leopold had the chance of another word with her. "You might have a kind word for me to-night, Klara," he said ruefully, as soon as a brief lull in business enabled him to approach the girl. "Why specially to-night?" she asked indifferently. "Your father must go by the night train to Kecskem t," he said, with seeming irrelevance. "There is that business about the plums." "The plums?" she asked, with a frown of puzzlement, "what plums?" "The fruit he bought near Kecskem t. They start gathering at sunrise to-morrow. He must be there the first hour, else he'd get shamefully robbed. He must travel by night." "I knew nothing about it," rejoined Klara, with an indifferent shrug of the shoulders. "Father never tells me when he is going to be away from home." "No!" retorted Leopold, with a sneer, "he knows better than to give all your gallants such a brilliant opportunity." "Don't be a fool, Leo!" she reiterated with a laugh. "I don't give any of them an opportunity, either," resumed the young man, while a curious look of almost animal ferocity crept into his pale face. "Whenever your father has to be away from home during the night, I take up my position outside this house and watch over you until daylight comes and people begin to come and go." "Very thoughtful of you, my good Leo," she rejoined dryly, "but you need not give yourself the trouble. I am well able to look after myself." "If any man molested you," continued Leopold, speaking very calmly, "I would kill him." "Who should molest me, you silly fool? And anyhow, I won't have you spying upon me like that." "You must not call it spying, Klara. I love to stand outside this house in the peace and darkness of the night, and to think of you quietly sleeping whilst I am keeping watch over you. You wouldn't call a watchdog a spy, would you?" "I know that to-night I shan't sleep a wink," she retorted crossly, "once father has gone. I shall always be thinking of you out there in the dark, watching this house. It will make me nervous." "To-night . . ." he began, and then abruptly checked himself. Once more that quick flash of passion shot through his pale, deep-set eyes. It seemed as if he meant to tell her something, which on second thoughts he decided to keep to himself. Her keen, dark eyes searched his face for a moment or two; she wondered what it was that lurked behind that high, smooth forehead of his and within the depths of that curiously perverted brain. Before she had time, however, to question him, Er s B la made noisy irruption into the room. He was greeted with a storm of cheers. "Hello, B la!" "Not the bridegroom, surely?" "Who would have thought of seeing you here?" While Leopold Hirsch muttered audibly: "What devil's mischief has brought this fellow here to-day, I wonder?" B la seemed in boisterous good-humour--with somewhat ostentatious hilarity he greeted all his friends, and then ordered some of Ign cz Goldstein's best wine for everybody all round. "Bravo, B la!" came from every side, together with loud applause at this unexpected liberality. "It is nice of you not to forget old friends," Klara whispered in his ear, as soon as he succeeded in reaching her side. "Whew!" he ejaculated with a sneer, "you have no idea, my good Klara, how I've been boring myself these past two hours. Those loutish peasants have no idea of enjoyment save their eternal gipsy music and their interminable cs rd s." "For a man of your education, B la," said Klara, with an insinuating smile, "it must be odiously dull. You would far rather have had a game of cards, wouldn't you now?" "I would far rather have had you at that infernal dance, so as to have had somebody to talk to," he retorted savagely. "Oh!" she said demurely, "that would never have done. Elsa must have such a lot to say to you herself. It would not be seemly for me to stand in the way." "Elsa, as you know, has that silly cs rd s on the brain. She has been dancing ever since six o'clock and has only given me about ten minutes of her company. She seems to belong to-night to every young fool that can dance, rather than to me." "Ah well! When you are married you can stop all that, my good B la. You can forbid your wife to dance the cs rd s, you know. I know many men who do it. Then Elsa will learn to appreciate the pleasure of your conversation. Though she is no longer very young, she is still very ignorant. You will have to educate her . . . bring her up to your own level of intelligence and of learning. In the meanwhile, do sit down and drink with those who, like yourself, have come here for an hour or two to break the monotony of perpetual czig ny music and dancing." She busied herself with drawing the corks of a number of bottles, which she then transferred from the end of the room where she stood to the tables at which sat her customers; she also brought out some fresh glasses. B la watched her for a moment or two in silence, unconscious of the fact that he, too, was being watched by a pair of pale eyes in which lurked a gleam of jealousy and of hate. Suddenly, as Klara brushed past him carrying bottles and glasses, he took hold of her by the elbow and drew her close to him. "These louts won't stay late to-night, will they?" he whispered in her ear. "No, not late," she replied; "they will go on to the barn in time for the supper, you may be sure of that. Why do you ask?" "I will have the supper served at ten o'clock," he continued to whisper, "but I'll not sit down to it. Not without you." "Don't be foolish, B la," she retorted. But even as he spoke, a little gleam of satisfaction, of gratified vanity, of anticipatory revenge, shot through her velvety dark eyes. "I warned Elsa," he continued sullenly; "I told her that if you were not at the feast, I should not be there either. She has disobeyed me. I must punish her." "So?" she rejoined, with an acid smile. "It is only in order to punish Elsa that you want to sup with me?" "Don't be stupid, Klara," he retorted. "I'll come at ten o'clock. Will you have some supper ready for me then? I have two or three bottles of French champagne over at my house--I'll bring them along. Will you be ready for me?" "Be silent, B la," she broke in hurriedly. "Can't you see that that fool Leo is watching us all the time?" "Curse, him! What have I got to do with him?" muttered B la savagely. "You will be ready for me, Klara?" "No!" she said decisively. "Better make your peace with Elsa. I'll have none of her leavings. I've had all I wanted out of you to-day--the banquet first and now your coming here. . . . It'll be all over the village presently--and that's all I care about. Have a drink now," she added good-humouredly, "and then go and make your peace with Elsa . . . if you can." She turned abruptly away from him, leaving him to murmur curses under his breath, and went on attending to her customers; nor did he get for the moment another opportunity of speaking with her, for Leopold Hirsch hovered round her for some considerable time after that, and presently, with much noise and pomp and circumstance, no less a personage than the noble young Count himself graced the premises of Ign cz Goldstein the Jew with his august presence. CHAPTER XIX "Now go and fetch the key." He belonged to the ancient family of R kosy, who had owned property on both banks of the Maros for the past eight centuries, and Feri R kosy, the twentieth-century representative of his medi val forbears, was a good-looking young fellow of the type so often met with among the upper classes in Hungary: quite something English in appearance--well set-up, well-dressed, well-groomed from the top of his smooth brown hair to the tips of his immaculately-shod feet--in the eyes an expression of habitual boredom, further accentuated by the slight, affected stoop of the shoulders and a few premature lines round the nose and mouth; and about his whole personality that air of high-breeding and of good, pure blood which is one of the chief characteristics of the true Hungarian aristocracy. He did little more than acknowledge the respectful salutations which greeted him from every corner of the little room as he entered, but he nodded to Er s B la and smiled all over his good-looking face at Klara, who, in her turn, welcomed him with a profusion of smiles which brought a volley of muttered curses to Leopold Hirsch's lips. While he held her one hand rather longer than was necessary she, with the other, took his hat from him, and then, laughing coquettishly, she pointed to a parcel which was causing the pocket of his well-cut Norfolk jacket to bulge immoderately. "Is that something for me?" she asked. "Of course it is," he replied lightly; "I bought it at the fair in Arad for you to-day." "How thoughtful of you!" she said, with a little sigh of pleasure. "Thoughtful?" he retorted, laughing pleasantly. "My good Klara, if I hadn't thought of you I would have died of boredom this afternoon. Here, give me a glass of your father's best wine and I'll tell you." He sat down with easy familiarity on the corner of the table which served as a counter. Klara, after this, had eyes and ears only for him. How could it be otherwise, seeing that it was not often a noble lord graced a village tap-room with his presence. Conversations round the room were now carried on in whispers; tarok cards were produced and here and there a game was in progress. Those who had drunk overmuch made themselves as inconspicuous as they could, drawing themselves closely against the wall, or frankly reclining across the table with arms outstretched and heads buried between them out of sight. An atmosphere of subdued animation and decorum reigned in the place; not a few men, oppressed by their sense of respect for my lord, had effected a quiet exit through the door, preferring the jovial atmosphere of the barn, from whence came, during certain hushed moments, the sounds of music and of laughter. The young man--whose presence caused all this revulsion in the usually noisy atmosphere of the tap-room--took no heed whatever of anything that went on around him: he seemed unconscious alike of the deference of the peasants as of the dark, menacing scowl with which Leopold Hirsch regarded him. He certainly did not bestow a single glance on Er s B la who, at my lord's appearance, had retreated into the very darkest corner of the room. B la did not care to encounter the young Count's sneering remarks just now--and these would of a certainty have been levelled against the bridegroom who was sitting in a tap-room when he should have been in attendance on his bride. But indeed my lord never saw him. To this young scion of a noble race, which had owned land and serfs for centuries past, these peasants here were of no more account than his oxen or his sheep--nor was the owner of a village shop of any more consequence in my lord's eyes. He came here because there was a good-looking Jewess in the tap-room whose conversation amused him, and whose dark, velvety eyes, fringed with long lashes, and mouth with full, red lips, stirred his jaded senses in a more pleasant and more decided way than did the eyes and lips of the demure, well-bred young Countesses and Baronesses who formed his usual social circle. Whether his flirtation with Klara, the Jewess, annoyed the girl's Jew lover or not, did not matter to him one jot; on the contrary the jealousy of that dirty lout Hirsch enhanced his amusement to a considerable extent. Therefore he did not take the trouble to lower his voice now when he talked to Klara, and it was quite openly that he put his arm round her waist while he held his glass to her lips--"To sweeten your father's vinegar!" he said with a laugh. "You know, my pretty Klara," he said gaily, "that I was half afraid I shouldn't see you to-day at all." "No?" she asked coquettishly. "No, by gad! My father was so soft-hearted to allow Er s a day off for his wedding or something, and so, if you please, I had to go to Arad with him, as he had to see about a sale of clover. I thought we should never get back. The roads were abominable." "I hardly expected your lordship," she said demurely. To punish her for that little lie, he tweaked her small ear till it became a bright crimson. "That is to punish you for telling such a lie," he said gaily. "You know that I meant to come and say good-bye." "Your lordship goes to-morrow?" she asked with a sigh. "To shoot bears, my pretty Klara," he replied. "I don't want to go. I would rather stay another week here for you to amuse me, you know." "I am proud . . ." she whispered. "So much do you amuse me that I have brought you a present, just to show you that I thought of you to-day and because I want you not to forget me during the three months that I shall be gone." He drew the parcel out of his pocket and, turning his back to the rest of the room, he cut the string and undid the paper that wrapped it. The contents of the parcel proved to be a morocco case, which flew open at a touch and displayed a gold curb chain bracelet--the dream of Klara Goldstein's desires. "For me?" she said, with a gasp of delight. "For your pretty arm, yes," he replied. "Shall I put it on?" She cast a swift, apprehensive glance round the room over his shoulder. "No, no, not now," she said quickly. "Why not?" "Father mightn't like it. I'd have to ask him." "D----n your father!" "And that fool, Leopold, is so insanely jealous." "D----n him too," said the young man quietly. Whereupon he took the morocco case out of Klara's hand, shut it with a snap and put it back into his pocket. "What are you doing?" cried Klara in a fright. "As you see, pretty one, I am putting the bracelet away for future use." "But . . ." she stammered. "If I can't put the bracelet on your arm myself," he said decisively, "you shan't have it at all." "But . . ." "That is my last word. Let us talk of something else." "No, no! We won't talk of something else. You said the bracelet was for me." She cast a languishing look on him through her long upper lashes; she bared her wrist and held it out to him. Leopold and his jealousy might go hang for aught she cared, for she meant to have the bracelet. The young man, with a fatuous little laugh, brought out the case once more. With his own hands he now fastened the bracelet round Klara Goldstein's wrist. Then--as a matter of course--he kissed her round, brown arm just above the bracelet, and also the red lips through which the words of thanks came quickly tumbling. Klara did not dare to look across the room. She felt, though she did not see, Leopold's pale eyes watching this little scene with a glow in them of ferocious hate and of almost animal rage. "I won't stay now, Klara," said the young Count, dropping his voice suddenly to a whisper; "too many of these louts about. When will you be free?" "Oh, not to-day," she whispered in reply. "After the fair there are sure to be late-comers. And you know Er s B la has a ball on at the barn and supper afterwards. . . ." "The very thing," he broke in, in an eager whisper. "While they are all at supper, I'll come in for a drink and a chat. . . . Ten o'clock, eh?" "Oh, no, no!" she protested feebly. "My father wouldn't like it, he . . ." "D----n your father, my dear, as I remarked before. And, as a matter of fact, your father is not going to be in the way at all. He goes to Kecskem t by the night train." "How do you know that?" "My father told me quite casually that Goldstein was seeing to some business for him at Kecskem t to-morrow. So it was not very difficult to guess that if your father was to be in Kecskem t to-morrow in time to transact business, he would have to travel up by the nine o'clock train this evening in order to get there." Then, as she made no reply, and a blush of pleasure gradually suffused her dark skin, lending it additional charm and giving to her eyes added brilliancy, he continued, more peremptorily this time: "At ten o'clock, then--I'll come back. Get rid of as many of these louts by then as you can." She was only too ready to yield. Not only was she hugely flattered by my lord's attentions, but she found him excessively attractive. He could make himself very agreeable to a woman if he chose, and evidently he chose to do so now. Moreover Klara had found by previous experience that to yield to the young man's varied and varying caprices was always remunerative, and there was that gold watch which he had once vaguely promised her, and which she knew she could get out of him if she had the time and opportunity, as she certainly would have to-night if he came. Count Feri, seeing that she had all but yielded, was preparing to go. Her hand was still in his, and he was pressing her slender fingers in token of a pledge for this evening. "At ten o'clock," he whispered again. "No, no," she protested once more, but this time he must have known that she only did it for form's sake and really meant to let him have his way. "The neighbours would see you enter, and there might be a whole lot of people in the tap-room at that hour: one never knows. They would know by then that my father had gone away and they would talk such scandal about me. My reputation . . ." No doubt he felt inclined to ejaculate in his usual manner: "D----n your reputation!" but he thought better of it, and merely said casually: "I need not come in by the front door, need I?" "The back door is always locked," she remarked ingenuously. "My father invariably locks it himself the last thing at night." "But since he is going to Kecskem t . . ." he suggested. "When he has to be away from home for the night he locks the door from the inside and takes the key away with him." "Surely there is a duplicate key somewhere? . . ." "I don't know," she murmured. "If you don't know, who should?" he remarked, with affected indifference. "Well! I shall have to make myself heard at the back door--that's all!" "How?" "Wouldn't you hear me if I knocked?" "Not if I were in the tap-room and a lot of customers to attend to." "Well, then, I should hammer away until you did hear me." "For that old gossip R zi to hear you," she protested. "Her cottage is not fifty paces away from our back door." "Then it will have to be the front door, after all," he rejoined philosophically. "No, no!--the neighbours--and perhaps the tap-room full of people." "But d----n it, Klara," he exclaimed impatiently, "I have made up my mind to come and spend my last evening with you--and when I have made up my mind to a thing, I am not likely to change it because of a lot of gossiping peasants, because of old R zi, or the whole lot of them. So if you don't want me to come in by the front door, which is open, or to knock at the back door, which is locked, how am I going to get in?" "I don't know." "Well, then, you'll have to find out, my pretty one," he said decisively, "for it has got to be done somehow, or that gold watch we spoke of the other day will have to go to somebody else. And you know when I say a thing I mean it. Eh?" "There is a duplicate key," she whispered shyly, ". . . to the back door, I mean." "I thought there was," he remarked dryly. "Where is it?" "In the next room. . . . It hangs on a nail by father's bedside." "Go and get it, then," he said more impatiently. "Not now," she urged. "Leopold is looking straight at you and me." He shrugged his aristocratic shoulders. "You are not afraid of that monkey?" he said with a laugh. "Well, no! not exactly afraid. But he is so insanely jealous; one never knows what kind of mischief he'll get into. He told me just now that whenever father is away from home he takes his stand outside this house from nightfall till morning--watching!" "A modern Argus--eh?" "A modern lunatic!" she retorted. "Well!" resumed the young man lightly, "lunatic or not, he won't be able to keep an eye on you to-night, even though your father will be away." "How do you mean?" "Hirsch is off to

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How many times the word 'pat' appears in the text?

ticked off on her long, pointed fingers the last bevy of her admirers on whom she might reasonably count: the son of the chemist over in Arad, the tenant of the Kender Road farm, the proprietor of the station cabs, and there were two or three others; but they were certainly falling away, and she had added no new ones to her list these past six months. Er s B la's formally declared engagement to Kapus Elsa had been a very severe blow. She had really reckoned on B la. He was educated and unconventional, and though he professed the usual anti-Semitic views peculiar to his kind, Klara did not believe that these were very genuine. At any rate, she had reckoned that her fine eyes and provocative ways would tilt successfully against the man's racial prejudices. Er s B la was rich and certainly, up to a point, in love with her. Klara was congratulating herself on the way she was playing her matrimonial cards, when all her hopes were so suddenly dashed to the ground. B la was going to marry that silly, ignorant peasant girl, and she, Klara, would be left to marry Leopold after all. Her anger and humiliation had been very great, and she had battled very persistently and very ably to regain the prize which she had lost. She knew quite well that, but for the fact that she belonged to the alien and despised race, Er s B la would have been only too happy to marry her. His vanity alone had made him choose Kapus Elsa. He wanted the noted beauty for himself, because the noted beauty had been courted by so many people, and where so many people had failed he was proud to succeed. Nor would he have cared to have it said that he had married a Jewess. There is always a certain thought of disgrace attached to such a marriage, whether it has been contracted by peer or peasant, and Er s B la's one dominating idea in life was to keep the respect and deference of his native village. But he had continued his attentions to Klara, and Klara had kept a wonderful hold over his imagination and over his will. She was the one woman who had ever had her will with him--only partially, of course, and not to the extent of forcing him into matrimony--but sufficiently to keep him also dangling round her skirts even though his whole allegiance should have belonged to Elsa. The banquet this afternoon had been a veritable triumph. Whatever she had suffered through B la's final disloyalty to herself, she knew that Kapus Elsa must have suffered all through the banquet. The humiliation of seeing one's bridegroom openly flaunting his admiration for another woman must have been indeed very bitter to bear. Not for a moment did Klara Goldstein doubt that the subsequent scene was an act of vengeance against herself on Elsa's part. She judged other women by her own standard, discounted other women's emotions, thoughts, feelings, by her own. She thought it quite natural that Elsa should wish to be revenged, just as she was quite sure that B la was already meditating some kind of retaliation for the shame which Andor had put upon him and for Elsa's obstinacy and share in the matter. She had not spoken to anyone of the little scene which had occurred between the four walls of the little schoolroom: on the contrary she had spoken loudly of both the bridegroom's and the bride's cordiality to her during the banquet. "Elsa wanted me to go to the dancing this evening," she said casually, "but I thought you would all miss me. I didn't want this place to be dull just because half the village is enjoying itself somewhere else." It had been market day at Arad, and at about five o'clock Klara and her father became very busy. Cattle-dealers and pig-merchants, travellers and pedlars, dropped in for a glass of silvorium and a chat with the good-looking Jewess. More than one bargain, discussed on the marketplace of Arad, was concluded in the stuffy tap-room of Marosfalva. "Shall we be honoured by the young Count's presence later on?" someone asked, with a significant nod to Klara. Everyone laughed in sympathy; the admiration of the noble young Count for Klara Goldstein was well-known. There was nothing in it, of course; even Klara, vain and ambitious as she was, knew that the bridge which divided the aristocrat from one of her kind and of her race was an impassable one. But she liked the young Count's attentions--she liked the presents he brought her from time to time, and relished the notoriety which this flirtation gave her. She also loved to tease poor Leopold Hirsch. Leo had been passionately in love with her for years; what he must have endured in moral and mental torture during that time through his jealousy and often groundless suspicions no one who did not know him intimately could ever have guessed. These tortures which Klara wantonly inflicted upon the wretched young man had been a constant source of amusement to her. Even now she was delighted because, as luck would have it, he entered the tap-room at the very moment when everyone was chaffing her about the young Count. Leopold Hirsch cast a quick, suspicious glance upon the girl, and his dull olive skin assumed an almost greenish hue. He was not of prepossessing appearance; this he knew himself, and the knowledge helped to keep his jealousy and his suspicion aflame. He was short and lean of stature and his head, with its large, bony features, seemed too big for his narrow shoulders to carry. His ginger-coloured hair was lank and scanty; he wore it--after the manner of those of his race in that part of the world--in corkscrew ringlets down each side of his narrow, cadaverous-looking face. His eyes were pale and shifty, but every now and then there shot into them a curious gleam of unbridled passion--love, hate or revenge; and then the whole face would light up and compel attention by the revelation of latent power. This had happened now when a fellow who sat in the corner by the window made some rough jest about the young Count. Leopold made his way to Klara's side; his thin lips were tightly pressed together, and he had buried his hands in the pockets of his ill-fitting trousers. "If that accursed aristocrat comes hanging round here much more, Klara," he muttered between set teeth, "I'll kill him one of these days." "What a fool you are, Leopold!" she said. "Why, yesterday it was Er s B la you objected to." "And I do still," he retorted. "I heard of your conduct at the banquet to-day. It is the talk of the village. One by one these loutish peasants have come into my shop and told me the tale--curse them!--of how the bridegroom had eyes and ears only for you. You seem to forget, Klara," he added, while a thought of menace crept into his voice, "that you are tokened to me now. So don't try and make a fool of me, or . . ." "The Lord bless you, my good man," she retorted, with a laugh, "I won't try, I promise you. I wouldn't like to compete with the Almighty, who has done that for you already." "Klara . . ." he exclaimed. "Oh! be quiet now, Leo," she said impatiently. "Can't you see that my hands are as full as I can manage, without my having to bother about you and your jealous tempers?" She elbowed him aside and went to the counter to serve a customer who had just arrived, and more than a quarter of an hour went by before Leopold had the chance of another word with her. "You might have a kind word for me to-night, Klara," he said ruefully, as soon as a brief lull in business enabled him to approach the girl. "Why specially to-night?" she asked indifferently. "Your father must go by the night train to Kecskem t," he said, with seeming irrelevance. "There is that business about the plums." "The plums?" she asked, with a frown of puzzlement, "what plums?" "The fruit he bought near Kecskem t. They start gathering at sunrise to-morrow. He must be there the first hour, else he'd get shamefully robbed. He must travel by night." "I knew nothing about it," rejoined Klara, with an indifferent shrug of the shoulders. "Father never tells me when he is going to be away from home." "No!" retorted Leopold, with a sneer, "he knows better than to give all your gallants such a brilliant opportunity." "Don't be a fool, Leo!" she reiterated with a laugh. "I don't give any of them an opportunity, either," resumed the young man, while a curious look of almost animal ferocity crept into his pale face. "Whenever your father has to be away from home during the night, I take up my position outside this house and watch over you until daylight comes and people begin to come and go." "Very thoughtful of you, my good Leo," she rejoined dryly, "but you need not give yourself the trouble. I am well able to look after myself." "If any man molested you," continued Leopold, speaking very calmly, "I would kill him." "Who should molest me, you silly fool? And anyhow, I won't have you spying upon me like that." "You must not call it spying, Klara. I love to stand outside this house in the peace and darkness of the night, and to think of you quietly sleeping whilst I am keeping watch over you. You wouldn't call a watchdog a spy, would you?" "I know that to-night I shan't sleep a wink," she retorted crossly, "once father has gone. I shall always be thinking of you out there in the dark, watching this house. It will make me nervous." "To-night . . ." he began, and then abruptly checked himself. Once more that quick flash of passion shot through his pale, deep-set eyes. It seemed as if he meant to tell her something, which on second thoughts he decided to keep to himself. Her keen, dark eyes searched his face for a moment or two; she wondered what it was that lurked behind that high, smooth forehead of his and within the depths of that curiously perverted brain. Before she had time, however, to question him, Er s B la made noisy irruption into the room. He was greeted with a storm of cheers. "Hello, B la!" "Not the bridegroom, surely?" "Who would have thought of seeing you here?" While Leopold Hirsch muttered audibly: "What devil's mischief has brought this fellow here to-day, I wonder?" B la seemed in boisterous good-humour--with somewhat ostentatious hilarity he greeted all his friends, and then ordered some of Ign cz Goldstein's best wine for everybody all round. "Bravo, B la!" came from every side, together with loud applause at this unexpected liberality. "It is nice of you not to forget old friends," Klara whispered in his ear, as soon as he succeeded in reaching her side. "Whew!" he ejaculated with a sneer, "you have no idea, my good Klara, how I've been boring myself these past two hours. Those loutish peasants have no idea of enjoyment save their eternal gipsy music and their interminable cs rd s." "For a man of your education, B la," said Klara, with an insinuating smile, "it must be odiously dull. You would far rather have had a game of cards, wouldn't you now?" "I would far rather have had you at that infernal dance, so as to have had somebody to talk to," he retorted savagely. "Oh!" she said demurely, "that would never have done. Elsa must have such a lot to say to you herself. It would not be seemly for me to stand in the way." "Elsa, as you know, has that silly cs rd s on the brain. She has been dancing ever since six o'clock and has only given me about ten minutes of her company. She seems to belong to-night to every young fool that can dance, rather than to me." "Ah well! When you are married you can stop all that, my good B la. You can forbid your wife to dance the cs rd s, you know. I know many men who do it. Then Elsa will learn to appreciate the pleasure of your conversation. Though she is no longer very young, she is still very ignorant. You will have to educate her . . . bring her up to your own level of intelligence and of learning. In the meanwhile, do sit down and drink with those who, like yourself, have come here for an hour or two to break the monotony of perpetual czig ny music and dancing." She busied herself with drawing the corks of a number of bottles, which she then transferred from the end of the room where she stood to the tables at which sat her customers; she also brought out some fresh glasses. B la watched her for a moment or two in silence, unconscious of the fact that he, too, was being watched by a pair of pale eyes in which lurked a gleam of jealousy and of hate. Suddenly, as Klara brushed past him carrying bottles and glasses, he took hold of her by the elbow and drew her close to him. "These louts won't stay late to-night, will they?" he whispered in her ear. "No, not late," she replied; "they will go on to the barn in time for the supper, you may be sure of that. Why do you ask?" "I will have the supper served at ten o'clock," he continued to whisper, "but I'll not sit down to it. Not without you." "Don't be foolish, B la," she retorted. But even as he spoke, a little gleam of satisfaction, of gratified vanity, of anticipatory revenge, shot through her velvety dark eyes. "I warned Elsa," he continued sullenly; "I told her that if you were not at the feast, I should not be there either. She has disobeyed me. I must punish her." "So?" she rejoined, with an acid smile. "It is only in order to punish Elsa that you want to sup with me?" "Don't be stupid, Klara," he retorted. "I'll come at ten o'clock. Will you have some supper ready for me then? I have two or three bottles of French champagne over at my house--I'll bring them along. Will you be ready for me?" "Be silent, B la," she broke in hurriedly. "Can't you see that that fool Leo is watching us all the time?" "Curse, him! What have I got to do with him?" muttered B la savagely. "You will be ready for me, Klara?" "No!" she said decisively. "Better make your peace with Elsa. I'll have none of her leavings. I've had all I wanted out of you to-day--the banquet first and now your coming here. . . . It'll be all over the village presently--and that's all I care about. Have a drink now," she added good-humouredly, "and then go and make your peace with Elsa . . . if you can." She turned abruptly away from him, leaving him to murmur curses under his breath, and went on attending to her customers; nor did he get for the moment another opportunity of speaking with her, for Leopold Hirsch hovered round her for some considerable time after that, and presently, with much noise and pomp and circumstance, no less a personage than the noble young Count himself graced the premises of Ign cz Goldstein the Jew with his august presence. CHAPTER XIX "Now go and fetch the key." He belonged to the ancient family of R kosy, who had owned property on both banks of the Maros for the past eight centuries, and Feri R kosy, the twentieth-century representative of his medi val forbears, was a good-looking young fellow of the type so often met with among the upper classes in Hungary: quite something English in appearance--well set-up, well-dressed, well-groomed from the top of his smooth brown hair to the tips of his immaculately-shod feet--in the eyes an expression of habitual boredom, further accentuated by the slight, affected stoop of the shoulders and a few premature lines round the nose and mouth; and about his whole personality that air of high-breeding and of good, pure blood which is one of the chief characteristics of the true Hungarian aristocracy. He did little more than acknowledge the respectful salutations which greeted him from every corner of the little room as he entered, but he nodded to Er s B la and smiled all over his good-looking face at Klara, who, in her turn, welcomed him with a profusion of smiles which brought a volley of muttered curses to Leopold Hirsch's lips. While he held her one hand rather longer than was necessary she, with the other, took his hat from him, and then, laughing coquettishly, she pointed to a parcel which was causing the pocket of his well-cut Norfolk jacket to bulge immoderately. "Is that something for me?" she asked. "Of course it is," he replied lightly; "I bought it at the fair in Arad for you to-day." "How thoughtful of you!" she said, with a little sigh of pleasure. "Thoughtful?" he retorted, laughing pleasantly. "My good Klara, if I hadn't thought of you I would have died of boredom this afternoon. Here, give me a glass of your father's best wine and I'll tell you." He sat down with easy familiarity on the corner of the table which served as a counter. Klara, after this, had eyes and ears only for him. How could it be otherwise, seeing that it was not often a noble lord graced a village tap-room with his presence. Conversations round the room were now carried on in whispers; tarok cards were produced and here and there a game was in progress. Those who had drunk overmuch made themselves as inconspicuous as they could, drawing themselves closely against the wall, or frankly reclining across the table with arms outstretched and heads buried between them out of sight. An atmosphere of subdued animation and decorum reigned in the place; not a few men, oppressed by their sense of respect for my lord, had effected a quiet exit through the door, preferring the jovial atmosphere of the barn, from whence came, during certain hushed moments, the sounds of music and of laughter. The young man--whose presence caused all this revulsion in the usually noisy atmosphere of the tap-room--took no heed whatever of anything that went on around him: he seemed unconscious alike of the deference of the peasants as of the dark, menacing scowl with which Leopold Hirsch regarded him. He certainly did not bestow a single glance on Er s B la who, at my lord's appearance, had retreated into the very darkest corner of the room. B la did not care to encounter the young Count's sneering remarks just now--and these would of a certainty have been levelled against the bridegroom who was sitting in a tap-room when he should have been in attendance on his bride. But indeed my lord never saw him. To this young scion of a noble race, which had owned land and serfs for centuries past, these peasants here were of no more account than his oxen or his sheep--nor was the owner of a village shop of any more consequence in my lord's eyes. He came here because there was a good-looking Jewess in the tap-room whose conversation amused him, and whose dark, velvety eyes, fringed with long lashes, and mouth with full, red lips, stirred his jaded senses in a more pleasant and more decided way than did the eyes and lips of the demure, well-bred young Countesses and Baronesses who formed his usual social circle. Whether his flirtation with Klara, the Jewess, annoyed the girl's Jew lover or not, did not matter to him one jot; on the contrary the jealousy of that dirty lout Hirsch enhanced his amusement to a considerable extent. Therefore he did not take the trouble to lower his voice now when he talked to Klara, and it was quite openly that he put his arm round her waist while he held his glass to her lips--"To sweeten your father's vinegar!" he said with a laugh. "You know, my pretty Klara," he said gaily, "that I was half afraid I shouldn't see you to-day at all." "No?" she asked coquettishly. "No, by gad! My father was so soft-hearted to allow Er s a day off for his wedding or something, and so, if you please, I had to go to Arad with him, as he had to see about a sale of clover. I thought we should never get back. The roads were abominable." "I hardly expected your lordship," she said demurely. To punish her for that little lie, he tweaked her small ear till it became a bright crimson. "That is to punish you for telling such a lie," he said gaily. "You know that I meant to come and say good-bye." "Your lordship goes to-morrow?" she asked with a sigh. "To shoot bears, my pretty Klara," he replied. "I don't want to go. I would rather stay another week here for you to amuse me, you know." "I am proud . . ." she whispered. "So much do you amuse me that I have brought you a present, just to show you that I thought of you to-day and because I want you not to forget me during the three months that I shall be gone." He drew the parcel out of his pocket and, turning his back to the rest of the room, he cut the string and undid the paper that wrapped it. The contents of the parcel proved to be a morocco case, which flew open at a touch and displayed a gold curb chain bracelet--the dream of Klara Goldstein's desires. "For me?" she said, with a gasp of delight. "For your pretty arm, yes," he replied. "Shall I put it on?" She cast a swift, apprehensive glance round the room over his shoulder. "No, no, not now," she said quickly. "Why not?" "Father mightn't like it. I'd have to ask him." "D----n your father!" "And that fool, Leopold, is so insanely jealous." "D----n him too," said the young man quietly. Whereupon he took the morocco case out of Klara's hand, shut it with a snap and put it back into his pocket. "What are you doing?" cried Klara in a fright. "As you see, pretty one, I am putting the bracelet away for future use." "But . . ." she stammered. "If I can't put the bracelet on your arm myself," he said decisively, "you shan't have it at all." "But . . ." "That is my last word. Let us talk of something else." "No, no! We won't talk of something else. You said the bracelet was for me." She cast a languishing look on him through her long upper lashes; she bared her wrist and held it out to him. Leopold and his jealousy might go hang for aught she cared, for she meant to have the bracelet. The young man, with a fatuous little laugh, brought out the case once more. With his own hands he now fastened the bracelet round Klara Goldstein's wrist. Then--as a matter of course--he kissed her round, brown arm just above the bracelet, and also the red lips through which the words of thanks came quickly tumbling. Klara did not dare to look across the room. She felt, though she did not see, Leopold's pale eyes watching this little scene with a glow in them of ferocious hate and of almost animal rage. "I won't stay now, Klara," said the young Count, dropping his voice suddenly to a whisper; "too many of these louts about. When will you be free?" "Oh, not to-day," she whispered in reply. "After the fair there are sure to be late-comers. And you know Er s B la has a ball on at the barn and supper afterwards. . . ." "The very thing," he broke in, in an eager whisper. "While they are all at supper, I'll come in for a drink and a chat. . . . Ten o'clock, eh?" "Oh, no, no!" she protested feebly. "My father wouldn't like it, he . . ." "D----n your father, my dear, as I remarked before. And, as a matter of fact, your father is not going to be in the way at all. He goes to Kecskem t by the night train." "How do you know that?" "My father told me quite casually that Goldstein was seeing to some business for him at Kecskem t to-morrow. So it was not very difficult to guess that if your father was to be in Kecskem t to-morrow in time to transact business, he would have to travel up by the nine o'clock train this evening in order to get there." Then, as she made no reply, and a blush of pleasure gradually suffused her dark skin, lending it additional charm and giving to her eyes added brilliancy, he continued, more peremptorily this time: "At ten o'clock, then--I'll come back. Get rid of as many of these louts by then as you can." She was only too ready to yield. Not only was she hugely flattered by my lord's attentions, but she found him excessively attractive. He could make himself very agreeable to a woman if he chose, and evidently he chose to do so now. Moreover Klara had found by previous experience that to yield to the young man's varied and varying caprices was always remunerative, and there was that gold watch which he had once vaguely promised her, and which she knew she could get out of him if she had the time and opportunity, as she certainly would have to-night if he came. Count Feri, seeing that she had all but yielded, was preparing to go. Her hand was still in his, and he was pressing her slender fingers in token of a pledge for this evening. "At ten o'clock," he whispered again. "No, no," she protested once more, but this time he must have known that she only did it for form's sake and really meant to let him have his way. "The neighbours would see you enter, and there might be a whole lot of people in the tap-room at that hour: one never knows. They would know by then that my father had gone away and they would talk such scandal about me. My reputation . . ." No doubt he felt inclined to ejaculate in his usual manner: "D----n your reputation!" but he thought better of it, and merely said casually: "I need not come in by the front door, need I?" "The back door is always locked," she remarked ingenuously. "My father invariably locks it himself the last thing at night." "But since he is going to Kecskem t . . ." he suggested. "When he has to be away from home for the night he locks the door from the inside and takes the key away with him." "Surely there is a duplicate key somewhere? . . ." "I don't know," she murmured. "If you don't know, who should?" he remarked, with affected indifference. "Well! I shall have to make myself heard at the back door--that's all!" "How?" "Wouldn't you hear me if I knocked?" "Not if I were in the tap-room and a lot of customers to attend to." "Well, then, I should hammer away until you did hear me." "For that old gossip R zi to hear you," she protested. "Her cottage is not fifty paces away from our back door." "Then it will have to be the front door, after all," he rejoined philosophically. "No, no!--the neighbours--and perhaps the tap-room full of people." "But d----n it, Klara," he exclaimed impatiently, "I have made up my mind to come and spend my last evening with you--and when I have made up my mind to a thing, I am not likely to change it because of a lot of gossiping peasants, because of old R zi, or the whole lot of them. So if you don't want me to come in by the front door, which is open, or to knock at the back door, which is locked, how am I going to get in?" "I don't know." "Well, then, you'll have to find out, my pretty one," he said decisively, "for it has got to be done somehow, or that gold watch we spoke of the other day will have to go to somebody else. And you know when I say a thing I mean it. Eh?" "There is a duplicate key," she whispered shyly, ". . . to the back door, I mean." "I thought there was," he remarked dryly. "Where is it?" "In the next room. . . . It hangs on a nail by father's bedside." "Go and get it, then," he said more impatiently. "Not now," she urged. "Leopold is looking straight at you and me." He shrugged his aristocratic shoulders. "You are not afraid of that monkey?" he said with a laugh. "Well, no! not exactly afraid. But he is so insanely jealous; one never knows what kind of mischief he'll get into. He told me just now that whenever father is away from home he takes his stand outside this house from nightfall till morning--watching!" "A modern Argus--eh?" "A modern lunatic!" she retorted. "Well!" resumed the young man lightly, "lunatic or not, he won't be able to keep an eye on you to-night, even though your father will be away." "How do you mean?" "Hirsch is off to

proud

How many times the word 'proud' appears in the text?

ticked off on her long, pointed fingers the last bevy of her admirers on whom she might reasonably count: the son of the chemist over in Arad, the tenant of the Kender Road farm, the proprietor of the station cabs, and there were two or three others; but they were certainly falling away, and she had added no new ones to her list these past six months. Er s B la's formally declared engagement to Kapus Elsa had been a very severe blow. She had really reckoned on B la. He was educated and unconventional, and though he professed the usual anti-Semitic views peculiar to his kind, Klara did not believe that these were very genuine. At any rate, she had reckoned that her fine eyes and provocative ways would tilt successfully against the man's racial prejudices. Er s B la was rich and certainly, up to a point, in love with her. Klara was congratulating herself on the way she was playing her matrimonial cards, when all her hopes were so suddenly dashed to the ground. B la was going to marry that silly, ignorant peasant girl, and she, Klara, would be left to marry Leopold after all. Her anger and humiliation had been very great, and she had battled very persistently and very ably to regain the prize which she had lost. She knew quite well that, but for the fact that she belonged to the alien and despised race, Er s B la would have been only too happy to marry her. His vanity alone had made him choose Kapus Elsa. He wanted the noted beauty for himself, because the noted beauty had been courted by so many people, and where so many people had failed he was proud to succeed. Nor would he have cared to have it said that he had married a Jewess. There is always a certain thought of disgrace attached to such a marriage, whether it has been contracted by peer or peasant, and Er s B la's one dominating idea in life was to keep the respect and deference of his native village. But he had continued his attentions to Klara, and Klara had kept a wonderful hold over his imagination and over his will. She was the one woman who had ever had her will with him--only partially, of course, and not to the extent of forcing him into matrimony--but sufficiently to keep him also dangling round her skirts even though his whole allegiance should have belonged to Elsa. The banquet this afternoon had been a veritable triumph. Whatever she had suffered through B la's final disloyalty to herself, she knew that Kapus Elsa must have suffered all through the banquet. The humiliation of seeing one's bridegroom openly flaunting his admiration for another woman must have been indeed very bitter to bear. Not for a moment did Klara Goldstein doubt that the subsequent scene was an act of vengeance against herself on Elsa's part. She judged other women by her own standard, discounted other women's emotions, thoughts, feelings, by her own. She thought it quite natural that Elsa should wish to be revenged, just as she was quite sure that B la was already meditating some kind of retaliation for the shame which Andor had put upon him and for Elsa's obstinacy and share in the matter. She had not spoken to anyone of the little scene which had occurred between the four walls of the little schoolroom: on the contrary she had spoken loudly of both the bridegroom's and the bride's cordiality to her during the banquet. "Elsa wanted me to go to the dancing this evening," she said casually, "but I thought you would all miss me. I didn't want this place to be dull just because half the village is enjoying itself somewhere else." It had been market day at Arad, and at about five o'clock Klara and her father became very busy. Cattle-dealers and pig-merchants, travellers and pedlars, dropped in for a glass of silvorium and a chat with the good-looking Jewess. More than one bargain, discussed on the marketplace of Arad, was concluded in the stuffy tap-room of Marosfalva. "Shall we be honoured by the young Count's presence later on?" someone asked, with a significant nod to Klara. Everyone laughed in sympathy; the admiration of the noble young Count for Klara Goldstein was well-known. There was nothing in it, of course; even Klara, vain and ambitious as she was, knew that the bridge which divided the aristocrat from one of her kind and of her race was an impassable one. But she liked the young Count's attentions--she liked the presents he brought her from time to time, and relished the notoriety which this flirtation gave her. She also loved to tease poor Leopold Hirsch. Leo had been passionately in love with her for years; what he must have endured in moral and mental torture during that time through his jealousy and often groundless suspicions no one who did not know him intimately could ever have guessed. These tortures which Klara wantonly inflicted upon the wretched young man had been a constant source of amusement to her. Even now she was delighted because, as luck would have it, he entered the tap-room at the very moment when everyone was chaffing her about the young Count. Leopold Hirsch cast a quick, suspicious glance upon the girl, and his dull olive skin assumed an almost greenish hue. He was not of prepossessing appearance; this he knew himself, and the knowledge helped to keep his jealousy and his suspicion aflame. He was short and lean of stature and his head, with its large, bony features, seemed too big for his narrow shoulders to carry. His ginger-coloured hair was lank and scanty; he wore it--after the manner of those of his race in that part of the world--in corkscrew ringlets down each side of his narrow, cadaverous-looking face. His eyes were pale and shifty, but every now and then there shot into them a curious gleam of unbridled passion--love, hate or revenge; and then the whole face would light up and compel attention by the revelation of latent power. This had happened now when a fellow who sat in the corner by the window made some rough jest about the young Count. Leopold made his way to Klara's side; his thin lips were tightly pressed together, and he had buried his hands in the pockets of his ill-fitting trousers. "If that accursed aristocrat comes hanging round here much more, Klara," he muttered between set teeth, "I'll kill him one of these days." "What a fool you are, Leopold!" she said. "Why, yesterday it was Er s B la you objected to." "And I do still," he retorted. "I heard of your conduct at the banquet to-day. It is the talk of the village. One by one these loutish peasants have come into my shop and told me the tale--curse them!--of how the bridegroom had eyes and ears only for you. You seem to forget, Klara," he added, while a thought of menace crept into his voice, "that you are tokened to me now. So don't try and make a fool of me, or . . ." "The Lord bless you, my good man," she retorted, with a laugh, "I won't try, I promise you. I wouldn't like to compete with the Almighty, who has done that for you already." "Klara . . ." he exclaimed. "Oh! be quiet now, Leo," she said impatiently. "Can't you see that my hands are as full as I can manage, without my having to bother about you and your jealous tempers?" She elbowed him aside and went to the counter to serve a customer who had just arrived, and more than a quarter of an hour went by before Leopold had the chance of another word with her. "You might have a kind word for me to-night, Klara," he said ruefully, as soon as a brief lull in business enabled him to approach the girl. "Why specially to-night?" she asked indifferently. "Your father must go by the night train to Kecskem t," he said, with seeming irrelevance. "There is that business about the plums." "The plums?" she asked, with a frown of puzzlement, "what plums?" "The fruit he bought near Kecskem t. They start gathering at sunrise to-morrow. He must be there the first hour, else he'd get shamefully robbed. He must travel by night." "I knew nothing about it," rejoined Klara, with an indifferent shrug of the shoulders. "Father never tells me when he is going to be away from home." "No!" retorted Leopold, with a sneer, "he knows better than to give all your gallants such a brilliant opportunity." "Don't be a fool, Leo!" she reiterated with a laugh. "I don't give any of them an opportunity, either," resumed the young man, while a curious look of almost animal ferocity crept into his pale face. "Whenever your father has to be away from home during the night, I take up my position outside this house and watch over you until daylight comes and people begin to come and go." "Very thoughtful of you, my good Leo," she rejoined dryly, "but you need not give yourself the trouble. I am well able to look after myself." "If any man molested you," continued Leopold, speaking very calmly, "I would kill him." "Who should molest me, you silly fool? And anyhow, I won't have you spying upon me like that." "You must not call it spying, Klara. I love to stand outside this house in the peace and darkness of the night, and to think of you quietly sleeping whilst I am keeping watch over you. You wouldn't call a watchdog a spy, would you?" "I know that to-night I shan't sleep a wink," she retorted crossly, "once father has gone. I shall always be thinking of you out there in the dark, watching this house. It will make me nervous." "To-night . . ." he began, and then abruptly checked himself. Once more that quick flash of passion shot through his pale, deep-set eyes. It seemed as if he meant to tell her something, which on second thoughts he decided to keep to himself. Her keen, dark eyes searched his face for a moment or two; she wondered what it was that lurked behind that high, smooth forehead of his and within the depths of that curiously perverted brain. Before she had time, however, to question him, Er s B la made noisy irruption into the room. He was greeted with a storm of cheers. "Hello, B la!" "Not the bridegroom, surely?" "Who would have thought of seeing you here?" While Leopold Hirsch muttered audibly: "What devil's mischief has brought this fellow here to-day, I wonder?" B la seemed in boisterous good-humour--with somewhat ostentatious hilarity he greeted all his friends, and then ordered some of Ign cz Goldstein's best wine for everybody all round. "Bravo, B la!" came from every side, together with loud applause at this unexpected liberality. "It is nice of you not to forget old friends," Klara whispered in his ear, as soon as he succeeded in reaching her side. "Whew!" he ejaculated with a sneer, "you have no idea, my good Klara, how I've been boring myself these past two hours. Those loutish peasants have no idea of enjoyment save their eternal gipsy music and their interminable cs rd s." "For a man of your education, B la," said Klara, with an insinuating smile, "it must be odiously dull. You would far rather have had a game of cards, wouldn't you now?" "I would far rather have had you at that infernal dance, so as to have had somebody to talk to," he retorted savagely. "Oh!" she said demurely, "that would never have done. Elsa must have such a lot to say to you herself. It would not be seemly for me to stand in the way." "Elsa, as you know, has that silly cs rd s on the brain. She has been dancing ever since six o'clock and has only given me about ten minutes of her company. She seems to belong to-night to every young fool that can dance, rather than to me." "Ah well! When you are married you can stop all that, my good B la. You can forbid your wife to dance the cs rd s, you know. I know many men who do it. Then Elsa will learn to appreciate the pleasure of your conversation. Though she is no longer very young, she is still very ignorant. You will have to educate her . . . bring her up to your own level of intelligence and of learning. In the meanwhile, do sit down and drink with those who, like yourself, have come here for an hour or two to break the monotony of perpetual czig ny music and dancing." She busied herself with drawing the corks of a number of bottles, which she then transferred from the end of the room where she stood to the tables at which sat her customers; she also brought out some fresh glasses. B la watched her for a moment or two in silence, unconscious of the fact that he, too, was being watched by a pair of pale eyes in which lurked a gleam of jealousy and of hate. Suddenly, as Klara brushed past him carrying bottles and glasses, he took hold of her by the elbow and drew her close to him. "These louts won't stay late to-night, will they?" he whispered in her ear. "No, not late," she replied; "they will go on to the barn in time for the supper, you may be sure of that. Why do you ask?" "I will have the supper served at ten o'clock," he continued to whisper, "but I'll not sit down to it. Not without you." "Don't be foolish, B la," she retorted. But even as he spoke, a little gleam of satisfaction, of gratified vanity, of anticipatory revenge, shot through her velvety dark eyes. "I warned Elsa," he continued sullenly; "I told her that if you were not at the feast, I should not be there either. She has disobeyed me. I must punish her." "So?" she rejoined, with an acid smile. "It is only in order to punish Elsa that you want to sup with me?" "Don't be stupid, Klara," he retorted. "I'll come at ten o'clock. Will you have some supper ready for me then? I have two or three bottles of French champagne over at my house--I'll bring them along. Will you be ready for me?" "Be silent, B la," she broke in hurriedly. "Can't you see that that fool Leo is watching us all the time?" "Curse, him! What have I got to do with him?" muttered B la savagely. "You will be ready for me, Klara?" "No!" she said decisively. "Better make your peace with Elsa. I'll have none of her leavings. I've had all I wanted out of you to-day--the banquet first and now your coming here. . . . It'll be all over the village presently--and that's all I care about. Have a drink now," she added good-humouredly, "and then go and make your peace with Elsa . . . if you can." She turned abruptly away from him, leaving him to murmur curses under his breath, and went on attending to her customers; nor did he get for the moment another opportunity of speaking with her, for Leopold Hirsch hovered round her for some considerable time after that, and presently, with much noise and pomp and circumstance, no less a personage than the noble young Count himself graced the premises of Ign cz Goldstein the Jew with his august presence. CHAPTER XIX "Now go and fetch the key." He belonged to the ancient family of R kosy, who had owned property on both banks of the Maros for the past eight centuries, and Feri R kosy, the twentieth-century representative of his medi val forbears, was a good-looking young fellow of the type so often met with among the upper classes in Hungary: quite something English in appearance--well set-up, well-dressed, well-groomed from the top of his smooth brown hair to the tips of his immaculately-shod feet--in the eyes an expression of habitual boredom, further accentuated by the slight, affected stoop of the shoulders and a few premature lines round the nose and mouth; and about his whole personality that air of high-breeding and of good, pure blood which is one of the chief characteristics of the true Hungarian aristocracy. He did little more than acknowledge the respectful salutations which greeted him from every corner of the little room as he entered, but he nodded to Er s B la and smiled all over his good-looking face at Klara, who, in her turn, welcomed him with a profusion of smiles which brought a volley of muttered curses to Leopold Hirsch's lips. While he held her one hand rather longer than was necessary she, with the other, took his hat from him, and then, laughing coquettishly, she pointed to a parcel which was causing the pocket of his well-cut Norfolk jacket to bulge immoderately. "Is that something for me?" she asked. "Of course it is," he replied lightly; "I bought it at the fair in Arad for you to-day." "How thoughtful of you!" she said, with a little sigh of pleasure. "Thoughtful?" he retorted, laughing pleasantly. "My good Klara, if I hadn't thought of you I would have died of boredom this afternoon. Here, give me a glass of your father's best wine and I'll tell you." He sat down with easy familiarity on the corner of the table which served as a counter. Klara, after this, had eyes and ears only for him. How could it be otherwise, seeing that it was not often a noble lord graced a village tap-room with his presence. Conversations round the room were now carried on in whispers; tarok cards were produced and here and there a game was in progress. Those who had drunk overmuch made themselves as inconspicuous as they could, drawing themselves closely against the wall, or frankly reclining across the table with arms outstretched and heads buried between them out of sight. An atmosphere of subdued animation and decorum reigned in the place; not a few men, oppressed by their sense of respect for my lord, had effected a quiet exit through the door, preferring the jovial atmosphere of the barn, from whence came, during certain hushed moments, the sounds of music and of laughter. The young man--whose presence caused all this revulsion in the usually noisy atmosphere of the tap-room--took no heed whatever of anything that went on around him: he seemed unconscious alike of the deference of the peasants as of the dark, menacing scowl with which Leopold Hirsch regarded him. He certainly did not bestow a single glance on Er s B la who, at my lord's appearance, had retreated into the very darkest corner of the room. B la did not care to encounter the young Count's sneering remarks just now--and these would of a certainty have been levelled against the bridegroom who was sitting in a tap-room when he should have been in attendance on his bride. But indeed my lord never saw him. To this young scion of a noble race, which had owned land and serfs for centuries past, these peasants here were of no more account than his oxen or his sheep--nor was the owner of a village shop of any more consequence in my lord's eyes. He came here because there was a good-looking Jewess in the tap-room whose conversation amused him, and whose dark, velvety eyes, fringed with long lashes, and mouth with full, red lips, stirred his jaded senses in a more pleasant and more decided way than did the eyes and lips of the demure, well-bred young Countesses and Baronesses who formed his usual social circle. Whether his flirtation with Klara, the Jewess, annoyed the girl's Jew lover or not, did not matter to him one jot; on the contrary the jealousy of that dirty lout Hirsch enhanced his amusement to a considerable extent. Therefore he did not take the trouble to lower his voice now when he talked to Klara, and it was quite openly that he put his arm round her waist while he held his glass to her lips--"To sweeten your father's vinegar!" he said with a laugh. "You know, my pretty Klara," he said gaily, "that I was half afraid I shouldn't see you to-day at all." "No?" she asked coquettishly. "No, by gad! My father was so soft-hearted to allow Er s a day off for his wedding or something, and so, if you please, I had to go to Arad with him, as he had to see about a sale of clover. I thought we should never get back. The roads were abominable." "I hardly expected your lordship," she said demurely. To punish her for that little lie, he tweaked her small ear till it became a bright crimson. "That is to punish you for telling such a lie," he said gaily. "You know that I meant to come and say good-bye." "Your lordship goes to-morrow?" she asked with a sigh. "To shoot bears, my pretty Klara," he replied. "I don't want to go. I would rather stay another week here for you to amuse me, you know." "I am proud . . ." she whispered. "So much do you amuse me that I have brought you a present, just to show you that I thought of you to-day and because I want you not to forget me during the three months that I shall be gone." He drew the parcel out of his pocket and, turning his back to the rest of the room, he cut the string and undid the paper that wrapped it. The contents of the parcel proved to be a morocco case, which flew open at a touch and displayed a gold curb chain bracelet--the dream of Klara Goldstein's desires. "For me?" she said, with a gasp of delight. "For your pretty arm, yes," he replied. "Shall I put it on?" She cast a swift, apprehensive glance round the room over his shoulder. "No, no, not now," she said quickly. "Why not?" "Father mightn't like it. I'd have to ask him." "D----n your father!" "And that fool, Leopold, is so insanely jealous." "D----n him too," said the young man quietly. Whereupon he took the morocco case out of Klara's hand, shut it with a snap and put it back into his pocket. "What are you doing?" cried Klara in a fright. "As you see, pretty one, I am putting the bracelet away for future use." "But . . ." she stammered. "If I can't put the bracelet on your arm myself," he said decisively, "you shan't have it at all." "But . . ." "That is my last word. Let us talk of something else." "No, no! We won't talk of something else. You said the bracelet was for me." She cast a languishing look on him through her long upper lashes; she bared her wrist and held it out to him. Leopold and his jealousy might go hang for aught she cared, for she meant to have the bracelet. The young man, with a fatuous little laugh, brought out the case once more. With his own hands he now fastened the bracelet round Klara Goldstein's wrist. Then--as a matter of course--he kissed her round, brown arm just above the bracelet, and also the red lips through which the words of thanks came quickly tumbling. Klara did not dare to look across the room. She felt, though she did not see, Leopold's pale eyes watching this little scene with a glow in them of ferocious hate and of almost animal rage. "I won't stay now, Klara," said the young Count, dropping his voice suddenly to a whisper; "too many of these louts about. When will you be free?" "Oh, not to-day," she whispered in reply. "After the fair there are sure to be late-comers. And you know Er s B la has a ball on at the barn and supper afterwards. . . ." "The very thing," he broke in, in an eager whisper. "While they are all at supper, I'll come in for a drink and a chat. . . . Ten o'clock, eh?" "Oh, no, no!" she protested feebly. "My father wouldn't like it, he . . ." "D----n your father, my dear, as I remarked before. And, as a matter of fact, your father is not going to be in the way at all. He goes to Kecskem t by the night train." "How do you know that?" "My father told me quite casually that Goldstein was seeing to some business for him at Kecskem t to-morrow. So it was not very difficult to guess that if your father was to be in Kecskem t to-morrow in time to transact business, he would have to travel up by the nine o'clock train this evening in order to get there." Then, as she made no reply, and a blush of pleasure gradually suffused her dark skin, lending it additional charm and giving to her eyes added brilliancy, he continued, more peremptorily this time: "At ten o'clock, then--I'll come back. Get rid of as many of these louts by then as you can." She was only too ready to yield. Not only was she hugely flattered by my lord's attentions, but she found him excessively attractive. He could make himself very agreeable to a woman if he chose, and evidently he chose to do so now. Moreover Klara had found by previous experience that to yield to the young man's varied and varying caprices was always remunerative, and there was that gold watch which he had once vaguely promised her, and which she knew she could get out of him if she had the time and opportunity, as she certainly would have to-night if he came. Count Feri, seeing that she had all but yielded, was preparing to go. Her hand was still in his, and he was pressing her slender fingers in token of a pledge for this evening. "At ten o'clock," he whispered again. "No, no," she protested once more, but this time he must have known that she only did it for form's sake and really meant to let him have his way. "The neighbours would see you enter, and there might be a whole lot of people in the tap-room at that hour: one never knows. They would know by then that my father had gone away and they would talk such scandal about me. My reputation . . ." No doubt he felt inclined to ejaculate in his usual manner: "D----n your reputation!" but he thought better of it, and merely said casually: "I need not come in by the front door, need I?" "The back door is always locked," she remarked ingenuously. "My father invariably locks it himself the last thing at night." "But since he is going to Kecskem t . . ." he suggested. "When he has to be away from home for the night he locks the door from the inside and takes the key away with him." "Surely there is a duplicate key somewhere? . . ." "I don't know," she murmured. "If you don't know, who should?" he remarked, with affected indifference. "Well! I shall have to make myself heard at the back door--that's all!" "How?" "Wouldn't you hear me if I knocked?" "Not if I were in the tap-room and a lot of customers to attend to." "Well, then, I should hammer away until you did hear me." "For that old gossip R zi to hear you," she protested. "Her cottage is not fifty paces away from our back door." "Then it will have to be the front door, after all," he rejoined philosophically. "No, no!--the neighbours--and perhaps the tap-room full of people." "But d----n it, Klara," he exclaimed impatiently, "I have made up my mind to come and spend my last evening with you--and when I have made up my mind to a thing, I am not likely to change it because of a lot of gossiping peasants, because of old R zi, or the whole lot of them. So if you don't want me to come in by the front door, which is open, or to knock at the back door, which is locked, how am I going to get in?" "I don't know." "Well, then, you'll have to find out, my pretty one," he said decisively, "for it has got to be done somehow, or that gold watch we spoke of the other day will have to go to somebody else. And you know when I say a thing I mean it. Eh?" "There is a duplicate key," she whispered shyly, ". . . to the back door, I mean." "I thought there was," he remarked dryly. "Where is it?" "In the next room. . . . It hangs on a nail by father's bedside." "Go and get it, then," he said more impatiently. "Not now," she urged. "Leopold is looking straight at you and me." He shrugged his aristocratic shoulders. "You are not afraid of that monkey?" he said with a laugh. "Well, no! not exactly afraid. But he is so insanely jealous; one never knows what kind of mischief he'll get into. He told me just now that whenever father is away from home he takes his stand outside this house from nightfall till morning--watching!" "A modern Argus--eh?" "A modern lunatic!" she retorted. "Well!" resumed the young man lightly, "lunatic or not, he won't be able to keep an eye on you to-night, even though your father will be away." "How do you mean?" "Hirsch is off to

ignorant

How many times the word 'ignorant' appears in the text?

ticked off on her long, pointed fingers the last bevy of her admirers on whom she might reasonably count: the son of the chemist over in Arad, the tenant of the Kender Road farm, the proprietor of the station cabs, and there were two or three others; but they were certainly falling away, and she had added no new ones to her list these past six months. Er s B la's formally declared engagement to Kapus Elsa had been a very severe blow. She had really reckoned on B la. He was educated and unconventional, and though he professed the usual anti-Semitic views peculiar to his kind, Klara did not believe that these were very genuine. At any rate, she had reckoned that her fine eyes and provocative ways would tilt successfully against the man's racial prejudices. Er s B la was rich and certainly, up to a point, in love with her. Klara was congratulating herself on the way she was playing her matrimonial cards, when all her hopes were so suddenly dashed to the ground. B la was going to marry that silly, ignorant peasant girl, and she, Klara, would be left to marry Leopold after all. Her anger and humiliation had been very great, and she had battled very persistently and very ably to regain the prize which she had lost. She knew quite well that, but for the fact that she belonged to the alien and despised race, Er s B la would have been only too happy to marry her. His vanity alone had made him choose Kapus Elsa. He wanted the noted beauty for himself, because the noted beauty had been courted by so many people, and where so many people had failed he was proud to succeed. Nor would he have cared to have it said that he had married a Jewess. There is always a certain thought of disgrace attached to such a marriage, whether it has been contracted by peer or peasant, and Er s B la's one dominating idea in life was to keep the respect and deference of his native village. But he had continued his attentions to Klara, and Klara had kept a wonderful hold over his imagination and over his will. She was the one woman who had ever had her will with him--only partially, of course, and not to the extent of forcing him into matrimony--but sufficiently to keep him also dangling round her skirts even though his whole allegiance should have belonged to Elsa. The banquet this afternoon had been a veritable triumph. Whatever she had suffered through B la's final disloyalty to herself, she knew that Kapus Elsa must have suffered all through the banquet. The humiliation of seeing one's bridegroom openly flaunting his admiration for another woman must have been indeed very bitter to bear. Not for a moment did Klara Goldstein doubt that the subsequent scene was an act of vengeance against herself on Elsa's part. She judged other women by her own standard, discounted other women's emotions, thoughts, feelings, by her own. She thought it quite natural that Elsa should wish to be revenged, just as she was quite sure that B la was already meditating some kind of retaliation for the shame which Andor had put upon him and for Elsa's obstinacy and share in the matter. She had not spoken to anyone of the little scene which had occurred between the four walls of the little schoolroom: on the contrary she had spoken loudly of both the bridegroom's and the bride's cordiality to her during the banquet. "Elsa wanted me to go to the dancing this evening," she said casually, "but I thought you would all miss me. I didn't want this place to be dull just because half the village is enjoying itself somewhere else." It had been market day at Arad, and at about five o'clock Klara and her father became very busy. Cattle-dealers and pig-merchants, travellers and pedlars, dropped in for a glass of silvorium and a chat with the good-looking Jewess. More than one bargain, discussed on the marketplace of Arad, was concluded in the stuffy tap-room of Marosfalva. "Shall we be honoured by the young Count's presence later on?" someone asked, with a significant nod to Klara. Everyone laughed in sympathy; the admiration of the noble young Count for Klara Goldstein was well-known. There was nothing in it, of course; even Klara, vain and ambitious as she was, knew that the bridge which divided the aristocrat from one of her kind and of her race was an impassable one. But she liked the young Count's attentions--she liked the presents he brought her from time to time, and relished the notoriety which this flirtation gave her. She also loved to tease poor Leopold Hirsch. Leo had been passionately in love with her for years; what he must have endured in moral and mental torture during that time through his jealousy and often groundless suspicions no one who did not know him intimately could ever have guessed. These tortures which Klara wantonly inflicted upon the wretched young man had been a constant source of amusement to her. Even now she was delighted because, as luck would have it, he entered the tap-room at the very moment when everyone was chaffing her about the young Count. Leopold Hirsch cast a quick, suspicious glance upon the girl, and his dull olive skin assumed an almost greenish hue. He was not of prepossessing appearance; this he knew himself, and the knowledge helped to keep his jealousy and his suspicion aflame. He was short and lean of stature and his head, with its large, bony features, seemed too big for his narrow shoulders to carry. His ginger-coloured hair was lank and scanty; he wore it--after the manner of those of his race in that part of the world--in corkscrew ringlets down each side of his narrow, cadaverous-looking face. His eyes were pale and shifty, but every now and then there shot into them a curious gleam of unbridled passion--love, hate or revenge; and then the whole face would light up and compel attention by the revelation of latent power. This had happened now when a fellow who sat in the corner by the window made some rough jest about the young Count. Leopold made his way to Klara's side; his thin lips were tightly pressed together, and he had buried his hands in the pockets of his ill-fitting trousers. "If that accursed aristocrat comes hanging round here much more, Klara," he muttered between set teeth, "I'll kill him one of these days." "What a fool you are, Leopold!" she said. "Why, yesterday it was Er s B la you objected to." "And I do still," he retorted. "I heard of your conduct at the banquet to-day. It is the talk of the village. One by one these loutish peasants have come into my shop and told me the tale--curse them!--of how the bridegroom had eyes and ears only for you. You seem to forget, Klara," he added, while a thought of menace crept into his voice, "that you are tokened to me now. So don't try and make a fool of me, or . . ." "The Lord bless you, my good man," she retorted, with a laugh, "I won't try, I promise you. I wouldn't like to compete with the Almighty, who has done that for you already." "Klara . . ." he exclaimed. "Oh! be quiet now, Leo," she said impatiently. "Can't you see that my hands are as full as I can manage, without my having to bother about you and your jealous tempers?" She elbowed him aside and went to the counter to serve a customer who had just arrived, and more than a quarter of an hour went by before Leopold had the chance of another word with her. "You might have a kind word for me to-night, Klara," he said ruefully, as soon as a brief lull in business enabled him to approach the girl. "Why specially to-night?" she asked indifferently. "Your father must go by the night train to Kecskem t," he said, with seeming irrelevance. "There is that business about the plums." "The plums?" she asked, with a frown of puzzlement, "what plums?" "The fruit he bought near Kecskem t. They start gathering at sunrise to-morrow. He must be there the first hour, else he'd get shamefully robbed. He must travel by night." "I knew nothing about it," rejoined Klara, with an indifferent shrug of the shoulders. "Father never tells me when he is going to be away from home." "No!" retorted Leopold, with a sneer, "he knows better than to give all your gallants such a brilliant opportunity." "Don't be a fool, Leo!" she reiterated with a laugh. "I don't give any of them an opportunity, either," resumed the young man, while a curious look of almost animal ferocity crept into his pale face. "Whenever your father has to be away from home during the night, I take up my position outside this house and watch over you until daylight comes and people begin to come and go." "Very thoughtful of you, my good Leo," she rejoined dryly, "but you need not give yourself the trouble. I am well able to look after myself." "If any man molested you," continued Leopold, speaking very calmly, "I would kill him." "Who should molest me, you silly fool? And anyhow, I won't have you spying upon me like that." "You must not call it spying, Klara. I love to stand outside this house in the peace and darkness of the night, and to think of you quietly sleeping whilst I am keeping watch over you. You wouldn't call a watchdog a spy, would you?" "I know that to-night I shan't sleep a wink," she retorted crossly, "once father has gone. I shall always be thinking of you out there in the dark, watching this house. It will make me nervous." "To-night . . ." he began, and then abruptly checked himself. Once more that quick flash of passion shot through his pale, deep-set eyes. It seemed as if he meant to tell her something, which on second thoughts he decided to keep to himself. Her keen, dark eyes searched his face for a moment or two; she wondered what it was that lurked behind that high, smooth forehead of his and within the depths of that curiously perverted brain. Before she had time, however, to question him, Er s B la made noisy irruption into the room. He was greeted with a storm of cheers. "Hello, B la!" "Not the bridegroom, surely?" "Who would have thought of seeing you here?" While Leopold Hirsch muttered audibly: "What devil's mischief has brought this fellow here to-day, I wonder?" B la seemed in boisterous good-humour--with somewhat ostentatious hilarity he greeted all his friends, and then ordered some of Ign cz Goldstein's best wine for everybody all round. "Bravo, B la!" came from every side, together with loud applause at this unexpected liberality. "It is nice of you not to forget old friends," Klara whispered in his ear, as soon as he succeeded in reaching her side. "Whew!" he ejaculated with a sneer, "you have no idea, my good Klara, how I've been boring myself these past two hours. Those loutish peasants have no idea of enjoyment save their eternal gipsy music and their interminable cs rd s." "For a man of your education, B la," said Klara, with an insinuating smile, "it must be odiously dull. You would far rather have had a game of cards, wouldn't you now?" "I would far rather have had you at that infernal dance, so as to have had somebody to talk to," he retorted savagely. "Oh!" she said demurely, "that would never have done. Elsa must have such a lot to say to you herself. It would not be seemly for me to stand in the way." "Elsa, as you know, has that silly cs rd s on the brain. She has been dancing ever since six o'clock and has only given me about ten minutes of her company. She seems to belong to-night to every young fool that can dance, rather than to me." "Ah well! When you are married you can stop all that, my good B la. You can forbid your wife to dance the cs rd s, you know. I know many men who do it. Then Elsa will learn to appreciate the pleasure of your conversation. Though she is no longer very young, she is still very ignorant. You will have to educate her . . . bring her up to your own level of intelligence and of learning. In the meanwhile, do sit down and drink with those who, like yourself, have come here for an hour or two to break the monotony of perpetual czig ny music and dancing." She busied herself with drawing the corks of a number of bottles, which she then transferred from the end of the room where she stood to the tables at which sat her customers; she also brought out some fresh glasses. B la watched her for a moment or two in silence, unconscious of the fact that he, too, was being watched by a pair of pale eyes in which lurked a gleam of jealousy and of hate. Suddenly, as Klara brushed past him carrying bottles and glasses, he took hold of her by the elbow and drew her close to him. "These louts won't stay late to-night, will they?" he whispered in her ear. "No, not late," she replied; "they will go on to the barn in time for the supper, you may be sure of that. Why do you ask?" "I will have the supper served at ten o'clock," he continued to whisper, "but I'll not sit down to it. Not without you." "Don't be foolish, B la," she retorted. But even as he spoke, a little gleam of satisfaction, of gratified vanity, of anticipatory revenge, shot through her velvety dark eyes. "I warned Elsa," he continued sullenly; "I told her that if you were not at the feast, I should not be there either. She has disobeyed me. I must punish her." "So?" she rejoined, with an acid smile. "It is only in order to punish Elsa that you want to sup with me?" "Don't be stupid, Klara," he retorted. "I'll come at ten o'clock. Will you have some supper ready for me then? I have two or three bottles of French champagne over at my house--I'll bring them along. Will you be ready for me?" "Be silent, B la," she broke in hurriedly. "Can't you see that that fool Leo is watching us all the time?" "Curse, him! What have I got to do with him?" muttered B la savagely. "You will be ready for me, Klara?" "No!" she said decisively. "Better make your peace with Elsa. I'll have none of her leavings. I've had all I wanted out of you to-day--the banquet first and now your coming here. . . . It'll be all over the village presently--and that's all I care about. Have a drink now," she added good-humouredly, "and then go and make your peace with Elsa . . . if you can." She turned abruptly away from him, leaving him to murmur curses under his breath, and went on attending to her customers; nor did he get for the moment another opportunity of speaking with her, for Leopold Hirsch hovered round her for some considerable time after that, and presently, with much noise and pomp and circumstance, no less a personage than the noble young Count himself graced the premises of Ign cz Goldstein the Jew with his august presence. CHAPTER XIX "Now go and fetch the key." He belonged to the ancient family of R kosy, who had owned property on both banks of the Maros for the past eight centuries, and Feri R kosy, the twentieth-century representative of his medi val forbears, was a good-looking young fellow of the type so often met with among the upper classes in Hungary: quite something English in appearance--well set-up, well-dressed, well-groomed from the top of his smooth brown hair to the tips of his immaculately-shod feet--in the eyes an expression of habitual boredom, further accentuated by the slight, affected stoop of the shoulders and a few premature lines round the nose and mouth; and about his whole personality that air of high-breeding and of good, pure blood which is one of the chief characteristics of the true Hungarian aristocracy. He did little more than acknowledge the respectful salutations which greeted him from every corner of the little room as he entered, but he nodded to Er s B la and smiled all over his good-looking face at Klara, who, in her turn, welcomed him with a profusion of smiles which brought a volley of muttered curses to Leopold Hirsch's lips. While he held her one hand rather longer than was necessary she, with the other, took his hat from him, and then, laughing coquettishly, she pointed to a parcel which was causing the pocket of his well-cut Norfolk jacket to bulge immoderately. "Is that something for me?" she asked. "Of course it is," he replied lightly; "I bought it at the fair in Arad for you to-day." "How thoughtful of you!" she said, with a little sigh of pleasure. "Thoughtful?" he retorted, laughing pleasantly. "My good Klara, if I hadn't thought of you I would have died of boredom this afternoon. Here, give me a glass of your father's best wine and I'll tell you." He sat down with easy familiarity on the corner of the table which served as a counter. Klara, after this, had eyes and ears only for him. How could it be otherwise, seeing that it was not often a noble lord graced a village tap-room with his presence. Conversations round the room were now carried on in whispers; tarok cards were produced and here and there a game was in progress. Those who had drunk overmuch made themselves as inconspicuous as they could, drawing themselves closely against the wall, or frankly reclining across the table with arms outstretched and heads buried between them out of sight. An atmosphere of subdued animation and decorum reigned in the place; not a few men, oppressed by their sense of respect for my lord, had effected a quiet exit through the door, preferring the jovial atmosphere of the barn, from whence came, during certain hushed moments, the sounds of music and of laughter. The young man--whose presence caused all this revulsion in the usually noisy atmosphere of the tap-room--took no heed whatever of anything that went on around him: he seemed unconscious alike of the deference of the peasants as of the dark, menacing scowl with which Leopold Hirsch regarded him. He certainly did not bestow a single glance on Er s B la who, at my lord's appearance, had retreated into the very darkest corner of the room. B la did not care to encounter the young Count's sneering remarks just now--and these would of a certainty have been levelled against the bridegroom who was sitting in a tap-room when he should have been in attendance on his bride. But indeed my lord never saw him. To this young scion of a noble race, which had owned land and serfs for centuries past, these peasants here were of no more account than his oxen or his sheep--nor was the owner of a village shop of any more consequence in my lord's eyes. He came here because there was a good-looking Jewess in the tap-room whose conversation amused him, and whose dark, velvety eyes, fringed with long lashes, and mouth with full, red lips, stirred his jaded senses in a more pleasant and more decided way than did the eyes and lips of the demure, well-bred young Countesses and Baronesses who formed his usual social circle. Whether his flirtation with Klara, the Jewess, annoyed the girl's Jew lover or not, did not matter to him one jot; on the contrary the jealousy of that dirty lout Hirsch enhanced his amusement to a considerable extent. Therefore he did not take the trouble to lower his voice now when he talked to Klara, and it was quite openly that he put his arm round her waist while he held his glass to her lips--"To sweeten your father's vinegar!" he said with a laugh. "You know, my pretty Klara," he said gaily, "that I was half afraid I shouldn't see you to-day at all." "No?" she asked coquettishly. "No, by gad! My father was so soft-hearted to allow Er s a day off for his wedding or something, and so, if you please, I had to go to Arad with him, as he had to see about a sale of clover. I thought we should never get back. The roads were abominable." "I hardly expected your lordship," she said demurely. To punish her for that little lie, he tweaked her small ear till it became a bright crimson. "That is to punish you for telling such a lie," he said gaily. "You know that I meant to come and say good-bye." "Your lordship goes to-morrow?" she asked with a sigh. "To shoot bears, my pretty Klara," he replied. "I don't want to go. I would rather stay another week here for you to amuse me, you know." "I am proud . . ." she whispered. "So much do you amuse me that I have brought you a present, just to show you that I thought of you to-day and because I want you not to forget me during the three months that I shall be gone." He drew the parcel out of his pocket and, turning his back to the rest of the room, he cut the string and undid the paper that wrapped it. The contents of the parcel proved to be a morocco case, which flew open at a touch and displayed a gold curb chain bracelet--the dream of Klara Goldstein's desires. "For me?" she said, with a gasp of delight. "For your pretty arm, yes," he replied. "Shall I put it on?" She cast a swift, apprehensive glance round the room over his shoulder. "No, no, not now," she said quickly. "Why not?" "Father mightn't like it. I'd have to ask him." "D----n your father!" "And that fool, Leopold, is so insanely jealous." "D----n him too," said the young man quietly. Whereupon he took the morocco case out of Klara's hand, shut it with a snap and put it back into his pocket. "What are you doing?" cried Klara in a fright. "As you see, pretty one, I am putting the bracelet away for future use." "But . . ." she stammered. "If I can't put the bracelet on your arm myself," he said decisively, "you shan't have it at all." "But . . ." "That is my last word. Let us talk of something else." "No, no! We won't talk of something else. You said the bracelet was for me." She cast a languishing look on him through her long upper lashes; she bared her wrist and held it out to him. Leopold and his jealousy might go hang for aught she cared, for she meant to have the bracelet. The young man, with a fatuous little laugh, brought out the case once more. With his own hands he now fastened the bracelet round Klara Goldstein's wrist. Then--as a matter of course--he kissed her round, brown arm just above the bracelet, and also the red lips through which the words of thanks came quickly tumbling. Klara did not dare to look across the room. She felt, though she did not see, Leopold's pale eyes watching this little scene with a glow in them of ferocious hate and of almost animal rage. "I won't stay now, Klara," said the young Count, dropping his voice suddenly to a whisper; "too many of these louts about. When will you be free?" "Oh, not to-day," she whispered in reply. "After the fair there are sure to be late-comers. And you know Er s B la has a ball on at the barn and supper afterwards. . . ." "The very thing," he broke in, in an eager whisper. "While they are all at supper, I'll come in for a drink and a chat. . . . Ten o'clock, eh?" "Oh, no, no!" she protested feebly. "My father wouldn't like it, he . . ." "D----n your father, my dear, as I remarked before. And, as a matter of fact, your father is not going to be in the way at all. He goes to Kecskem t by the night train." "How do you know that?" "My father told me quite casually that Goldstein was seeing to some business for him at Kecskem t to-morrow. So it was not very difficult to guess that if your father was to be in Kecskem t to-morrow in time to transact business, he would have to travel up by the nine o'clock train this evening in order to get there." Then, as she made no reply, and a blush of pleasure gradually suffused her dark skin, lending it additional charm and giving to her eyes added brilliancy, he continued, more peremptorily this time: "At ten o'clock, then--I'll come back. Get rid of as many of these louts by then as you can." She was only too ready to yield. Not only was she hugely flattered by my lord's attentions, but she found him excessively attractive. He could make himself very agreeable to a woman if he chose, and evidently he chose to do so now. Moreover Klara had found by previous experience that to yield to the young man's varied and varying caprices was always remunerative, and there was that gold watch which he had once vaguely promised her, and which she knew she could get out of him if she had the time and opportunity, as she certainly would have to-night if he came. Count Feri, seeing that she had all but yielded, was preparing to go. Her hand was still in his, and he was pressing her slender fingers in token of a pledge for this evening. "At ten o'clock," he whispered again. "No, no," she protested once more, but this time he must have known that she only did it for form's sake and really meant to let him have his way. "The neighbours would see you enter, and there might be a whole lot of people in the tap-room at that hour: one never knows. They would know by then that my father had gone away and they would talk such scandal about me. My reputation . . ." No doubt he felt inclined to ejaculate in his usual manner: "D----n your reputation!" but he thought better of it, and merely said casually: "I need not come in by the front door, need I?" "The back door is always locked," she remarked ingenuously. "My father invariably locks it himself the last thing at night." "But since he is going to Kecskem t . . ." he suggested. "When he has to be away from home for the night he locks the door from the inside and takes the key away with him." "Surely there is a duplicate key somewhere? . . ." "I don't know," she murmured. "If you don't know, who should?" he remarked, with affected indifference. "Well! I shall have to make myself heard at the back door--that's all!" "How?" "Wouldn't you hear me if I knocked?" "Not if I were in the tap-room and a lot of customers to attend to." "Well, then, I should hammer away until you did hear me." "For that old gossip R zi to hear you," she protested. "Her cottage is not fifty paces away from our back door." "Then it will have to be the front door, after all," he rejoined philosophically. "No, no!--the neighbours--and perhaps the tap-room full of people." "But d----n it, Klara," he exclaimed impatiently, "I have made up my mind to come and spend my last evening with you--and when I have made up my mind to a thing, I am not likely to change it because of a lot of gossiping peasants, because of old R zi, or the whole lot of them. So if you don't want me to come in by the front door, which is open, or to knock at the back door, which is locked, how am I going to get in?" "I don't know." "Well, then, you'll have to find out, my pretty one," he said decisively, "for it has got to be done somehow, or that gold watch we spoke of the other day will have to go to somebody else. And you know when I say a thing I mean it. Eh?" "There is a duplicate key," she whispered shyly, ". . . to the back door, I mean." "I thought there was," he remarked dryly. "Where is it?" "In the next room. . . . It hangs on a nail by father's bedside." "Go and get it, then," he said more impatiently. "Not now," she urged. "Leopold is looking straight at you and me." He shrugged his aristocratic shoulders. "You are not afraid of that monkey?" he said with a laugh. "Well, no! not exactly afraid. But he is so insanely jealous; one never knows what kind of mischief he'll get into. He told me just now that whenever father is away from home he takes his stand outside this house from nightfall till morning--watching!" "A modern Argus--eh?" "A modern lunatic!" she retorted. "Well!" resumed the young man lightly, "lunatic or not, he won't be able to keep an eye on you to-night, even though your father will be away." "How do you mean?" "Hirsch is off to

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ticked off on her long, pointed fingers the last bevy of her admirers on whom she might reasonably count: the son of the chemist over in Arad, the tenant of the Kender Road farm, the proprietor of the station cabs, and there were two or three others; but they were certainly falling away, and she had added no new ones to her list these past six months. Er s B la's formally declared engagement to Kapus Elsa had been a very severe blow. She had really reckoned on B la. He was educated and unconventional, and though he professed the usual anti-Semitic views peculiar to his kind, Klara did not believe that these were very genuine. At any rate, she had reckoned that her fine eyes and provocative ways would tilt successfully against the man's racial prejudices. Er s B la was rich and certainly, up to a point, in love with her. Klara was congratulating herself on the way she was playing her matrimonial cards, when all her hopes were so suddenly dashed to the ground. B la was going to marry that silly, ignorant peasant girl, and she, Klara, would be left to marry Leopold after all. Her anger and humiliation had been very great, and she had battled very persistently and very ably to regain the prize which she had lost. She knew quite well that, but for the fact that she belonged to the alien and despised race, Er s B la would have been only too happy to marry her. His vanity alone had made him choose Kapus Elsa. He wanted the noted beauty for himself, because the noted beauty had been courted by so many people, and where so many people had failed he was proud to succeed. Nor would he have cared to have it said that he had married a Jewess. There is always a certain thought of disgrace attached to such a marriage, whether it has been contracted by peer or peasant, and Er s B la's one dominating idea in life was to keep the respect and deference of his native village. But he had continued his attentions to Klara, and Klara had kept a wonderful hold over his imagination and over his will. She was the one woman who had ever had her will with him--only partially, of course, and not to the extent of forcing him into matrimony--but sufficiently to keep him also dangling round her skirts even though his whole allegiance should have belonged to Elsa. The banquet this afternoon had been a veritable triumph. Whatever she had suffered through B la's final disloyalty to herself, she knew that Kapus Elsa must have suffered all through the banquet. The humiliation of seeing one's bridegroom openly flaunting his admiration for another woman must have been indeed very bitter to bear. Not for a moment did Klara Goldstein doubt that the subsequent scene was an act of vengeance against herself on Elsa's part. She judged other women by her own standard, discounted other women's emotions, thoughts, feelings, by her own. She thought it quite natural that Elsa should wish to be revenged, just as she was quite sure that B la was already meditating some kind of retaliation for the shame which Andor had put upon him and for Elsa's obstinacy and share in the matter. She had not spoken to anyone of the little scene which had occurred between the four walls of the little schoolroom: on the contrary she had spoken loudly of both the bridegroom's and the bride's cordiality to her during the banquet. "Elsa wanted me to go to the dancing this evening," she said casually, "but I thought you would all miss me. I didn't want this place to be dull just because half the village is enjoying itself somewhere else." It had been market day at Arad, and at about five o'clock Klara and her father became very busy. Cattle-dealers and pig-merchants, travellers and pedlars, dropped in for a glass of silvorium and a chat with the good-looking Jewess. More than one bargain, discussed on the marketplace of Arad, was concluded in the stuffy tap-room of Marosfalva. "Shall we be honoured by the young Count's presence later on?" someone asked, with a significant nod to Klara. Everyone laughed in sympathy; the admiration of the noble young Count for Klara Goldstein was well-known. There was nothing in it, of course; even Klara, vain and ambitious as she was, knew that the bridge which divided the aristocrat from one of her kind and of her race was an impassable one. But she liked the young Count's attentions--she liked the presents he brought her from time to time, and relished the notoriety which this flirtation gave her. She also loved to tease poor Leopold Hirsch. Leo had been passionately in love with her for years; what he must have endured in moral and mental torture during that time through his jealousy and often groundless suspicions no one who did not know him intimately could ever have guessed. These tortures which Klara wantonly inflicted upon the wretched young man had been a constant source of amusement to her. Even now she was delighted because, as luck would have it, he entered the tap-room at the very moment when everyone was chaffing her about the young Count. Leopold Hirsch cast a quick, suspicious glance upon the girl, and his dull olive skin assumed an almost greenish hue. He was not of prepossessing appearance; this he knew himself, and the knowledge helped to keep his jealousy and his suspicion aflame. He was short and lean of stature and his head, with its large, bony features, seemed too big for his narrow shoulders to carry. His ginger-coloured hair was lank and scanty; he wore it--after the manner of those of his race in that part of the world--in corkscrew ringlets down each side of his narrow, cadaverous-looking face. His eyes were pale and shifty, but every now and then there shot into them a curious gleam of unbridled passion--love, hate or revenge; and then the whole face would light up and compel attention by the revelation of latent power. This had happened now when a fellow who sat in the corner by the window made some rough jest about the young Count. Leopold made his way to Klara's side; his thin lips were tightly pressed together, and he had buried his hands in the pockets of his ill-fitting trousers. "If that accursed aristocrat comes hanging round here much more, Klara," he muttered between set teeth, "I'll kill him one of these days." "What a fool you are, Leopold!" she said. "Why, yesterday it was Er s B la you objected to." "And I do still," he retorted. "I heard of your conduct at the banquet to-day. It is the talk of the village. One by one these loutish peasants have come into my shop and told me the tale--curse them!--of how the bridegroom had eyes and ears only for you. You seem to forget, Klara," he added, while a thought of menace crept into his voice, "that you are tokened to me now. So don't try and make a fool of me, or . . ." "The Lord bless you, my good man," she retorted, with a laugh, "I won't try, I promise you. I wouldn't like to compete with the Almighty, who has done that for you already." "Klara . . ." he exclaimed. "Oh! be quiet now, Leo," she said impatiently. "Can't you see that my hands are as full as I can manage, without my having to bother about you and your jealous tempers?" She elbowed him aside and went to the counter to serve a customer who had just arrived, and more than a quarter of an hour went by before Leopold had the chance of another word with her. "You might have a kind word for me to-night, Klara," he said ruefully, as soon as a brief lull in business enabled him to approach the girl. "Why specially to-night?" she asked indifferently. "Your father must go by the night train to Kecskem t," he said, with seeming irrelevance. "There is that business about the plums." "The plums?" she asked, with a frown of puzzlement, "what plums?" "The fruit he bought near Kecskem t. They start gathering at sunrise to-morrow. He must be there the first hour, else he'd get shamefully robbed. He must travel by night." "I knew nothing about it," rejoined Klara, with an indifferent shrug of the shoulders. "Father never tells me when he is going to be away from home." "No!" retorted Leopold, with a sneer, "he knows better than to give all your gallants such a brilliant opportunity." "Don't be a fool, Leo!" she reiterated with a laugh. "I don't give any of them an opportunity, either," resumed the young man, while a curious look of almost animal ferocity crept into his pale face. "Whenever your father has to be away from home during the night, I take up my position outside this house and watch over you until daylight comes and people begin to come and go." "Very thoughtful of you, my good Leo," she rejoined dryly, "but you need not give yourself the trouble. I am well able to look after myself." "If any man molested you," continued Leopold, speaking very calmly, "I would kill him." "Who should molest me, you silly fool? And anyhow, I won't have you spying upon me like that." "You must not call it spying, Klara. I love to stand outside this house in the peace and darkness of the night, and to think of you quietly sleeping whilst I am keeping watch over you. You wouldn't call a watchdog a spy, would you?" "I know that to-night I shan't sleep a wink," she retorted crossly, "once father has gone. I shall always be thinking of you out there in the dark, watching this house. It will make me nervous." "To-night . . ." he began, and then abruptly checked himself. Once more that quick flash of passion shot through his pale, deep-set eyes. It seemed as if he meant to tell her something, which on second thoughts he decided to keep to himself. Her keen, dark eyes searched his face for a moment or two; she wondered what it was that lurked behind that high, smooth forehead of his and within the depths of that curiously perverted brain. Before she had time, however, to question him, Er s B la made noisy irruption into the room. He was greeted with a storm of cheers. "Hello, B la!" "Not the bridegroom, surely?" "Who would have thought of seeing you here?" While Leopold Hirsch muttered audibly: "What devil's mischief has brought this fellow here to-day, I wonder?" B la seemed in boisterous good-humour--with somewhat ostentatious hilarity he greeted all his friends, and then ordered some of Ign cz Goldstein's best wine for everybody all round. "Bravo, B la!" came from every side, together with loud applause at this unexpected liberality. "It is nice of you not to forget old friends," Klara whispered in his ear, as soon as he succeeded in reaching her side. "Whew!" he ejaculated with a sneer, "you have no idea, my good Klara, how I've been boring myself these past two hours. Those loutish peasants have no idea of enjoyment save their eternal gipsy music and their interminable cs rd s." "For a man of your education, B la," said Klara, with an insinuating smile, "it must be odiously dull. You would far rather have had a game of cards, wouldn't you now?" "I would far rather have had you at that infernal dance, so as to have had somebody to talk to," he retorted savagely. "Oh!" she said demurely, "that would never have done. Elsa must have such a lot to say to you herself. It would not be seemly for me to stand in the way." "Elsa, as you know, has that silly cs rd s on the brain. She has been dancing ever since six o'clock and has only given me about ten minutes of her company. She seems to belong to-night to every young fool that can dance, rather than to me." "Ah well! When you are married you can stop all that, my good B la. You can forbid your wife to dance the cs rd s, you know. I know many men who do it. Then Elsa will learn to appreciate the pleasure of your conversation. Though she is no longer very young, she is still very ignorant. You will have to educate her . . . bring her up to your own level of intelligence and of learning. In the meanwhile, do sit down and drink with those who, like yourself, have come here for an hour or two to break the monotony of perpetual czig ny music and dancing." She busied herself with drawing the corks of a number of bottles, which she then transferred from the end of the room where she stood to the tables at which sat her customers; she also brought out some fresh glasses. B la watched her for a moment or two in silence, unconscious of the fact that he, too, was being watched by a pair of pale eyes in which lurked a gleam of jealousy and of hate. Suddenly, as Klara brushed past him carrying bottles and glasses, he took hold of her by the elbow and drew her close to him. "These louts won't stay late to-night, will they?" he whispered in her ear. "No, not late," she replied; "they will go on to the barn in time for the supper, you may be sure of that. Why do you ask?" "I will have the supper served at ten o'clock," he continued to whisper, "but I'll not sit down to it. Not without you." "Don't be foolish, B la," she retorted. But even as he spoke, a little gleam of satisfaction, of gratified vanity, of anticipatory revenge, shot through her velvety dark eyes. "I warned Elsa," he continued sullenly; "I told her that if you were not at the feast, I should not be there either. She has disobeyed me. I must punish her." "So?" she rejoined, with an acid smile. "It is only in order to punish Elsa that you want to sup with me?" "Don't be stupid, Klara," he retorted. "I'll come at ten o'clock. Will you have some supper ready for me then? I have two or three bottles of French champagne over at my house--I'll bring them along. Will you be ready for me?" "Be silent, B la," she broke in hurriedly. "Can't you see that that fool Leo is watching us all the time?" "Curse, him! What have I got to do with him?" muttered B la savagely. "You will be ready for me, Klara?" "No!" she said decisively. "Better make your peace with Elsa. I'll have none of her leavings. I've had all I wanted out of you to-day--the banquet first and now your coming here. . . . It'll be all over the village presently--and that's all I care about. Have a drink now," she added good-humouredly, "and then go and make your peace with Elsa . . . if you can." She turned abruptly away from him, leaving him to murmur curses under his breath, and went on attending to her customers; nor did he get for the moment another opportunity of speaking with her, for Leopold Hirsch hovered round her for some considerable time after that, and presently, with much noise and pomp and circumstance, no less a personage than the noble young Count himself graced the premises of Ign cz Goldstein the Jew with his august presence. CHAPTER XIX "Now go and fetch the key." He belonged to the ancient family of R kosy, who had owned property on both banks of the Maros for the past eight centuries, and Feri R kosy, the twentieth-century representative of his medi val forbears, was a good-looking young fellow of the type so often met with among the upper classes in Hungary: quite something English in appearance--well set-up, well-dressed, well-groomed from the top of his smooth brown hair to the tips of his immaculately-shod feet--in the eyes an expression of habitual boredom, further accentuated by the slight, affected stoop of the shoulders and a few premature lines round the nose and mouth; and about his whole personality that air of high-breeding and of good, pure blood which is one of the chief characteristics of the true Hungarian aristocracy. He did little more than acknowledge the respectful salutations which greeted him from every corner of the little room as he entered, but he nodded to Er s B la and smiled all over his good-looking face at Klara, who, in her turn, welcomed him with a profusion of smiles which brought a volley of muttered curses to Leopold Hirsch's lips. While he held her one hand rather longer than was necessary she, with the other, took his hat from him, and then, laughing coquettishly, she pointed to a parcel which was causing the pocket of his well-cut Norfolk jacket to bulge immoderately. "Is that something for me?" she asked. "Of course it is," he replied lightly; "I bought it at the fair in Arad for you to-day." "How thoughtful of you!" she said, with a little sigh of pleasure. "Thoughtful?" he retorted, laughing pleasantly. "My good Klara, if I hadn't thought of you I would have died of boredom this afternoon. Here, give me a glass of your father's best wine and I'll tell you." He sat down with easy familiarity on the corner of the table which served as a counter. Klara, after this, had eyes and ears only for him. How could it be otherwise, seeing that it was not often a noble lord graced a village tap-room with his presence. Conversations round the room were now carried on in whispers; tarok cards were produced and here and there a game was in progress. Those who had drunk overmuch made themselves as inconspicuous as they could, drawing themselves closely against the wall, or frankly reclining across the table with arms outstretched and heads buried between them out of sight. An atmosphere of subdued animation and decorum reigned in the place; not a few men, oppressed by their sense of respect for my lord, had effected a quiet exit through the door, preferring the jovial atmosphere of the barn, from whence came, during certain hushed moments, the sounds of music and of laughter. The young man--whose presence caused all this revulsion in the usually noisy atmosphere of the tap-room--took no heed whatever of anything that went on around him: he seemed unconscious alike of the deference of the peasants as of the dark, menacing scowl with which Leopold Hirsch regarded him. He certainly did not bestow a single glance on Er s B la who, at my lord's appearance, had retreated into the very darkest corner of the room. B la did not care to encounter the young Count's sneering remarks just now--and these would of a certainty have been levelled against the bridegroom who was sitting in a tap-room when he should have been in attendance on his bride. But indeed my lord never saw him. To this young scion of a noble race, which had owned land and serfs for centuries past, these peasants here were of no more account than his oxen or his sheep--nor was the owner of a village shop of any more consequence in my lord's eyes. He came here because there was a good-looking Jewess in the tap-room whose conversation amused him, and whose dark, velvety eyes, fringed with long lashes, and mouth with full, red lips, stirred his jaded senses in a more pleasant and more decided way than did the eyes and lips of the demure, well-bred young Countesses and Baronesses who formed his usual social circle. Whether his flirtation with Klara, the Jewess, annoyed the girl's Jew lover or not, did not matter to him one jot; on the contrary the jealousy of that dirty lout Hirsch enhanced his amusement to a considerable extent. Therefore he did not take the trouble to lower his voice now when he talked to Klara, and it was quite openly that he put his arm round her waist while he held his glass to her lips--"To sweeten your father's vinegar!" he said with a laugh. "You know, my pretty Klara," he said gaily, "that I was half afraid I shouldn't see you to-day at all." "No?" she asked coquettishly. "No, by gad! My father was so soft-hearted to allow Er s a day off for his wedding or something, and so, if you please, I had to go to Arad with him, as he had to see about a sale of clover. I thought we should never get back. The roads were abominable." "I hardly expected your lordship," she said demurely. To punish her for that little lie, he tweaked her small ear till it became a bright crimson. "That is to punish you for telling such a lie," he said gaily. "You know that I meant to come and say good-bye." "Your lordship goes to-morrow?" she asked with a sigh. "To shoot bears, my pretty Klara," he replied. "I don't want to go. I would rather stay another week here for you to amuse me, you know." "I am proud . . ." she whispered. "So much do you amuse me that I have brought you a present, just to show you that I thought of you to-day and because I want you not to forget me during the three months that I shall be gone." He drew the parcel out of his pocket and, turning his back to the rest of the room, he cut the string and undid the paper that wrapped it. The contents of the parcel proved to be a morocco case, which flew open at a touch and displayed a gold curb chain bracelet--the dream of Klara Goldstein's desires. "For me?" she said, with a gasp of delight. "For your pretty arm, yes," he replied. "Shall I put it on?" She cast a swift, apprehensive glance round the room over his shoulder. "No, no, not now," she said quickly. "Why not?" "Father mightn't like it. I'd have to ask him." "D----n your father!" "And that fool, Leopold, is so insanely jealous." "D----n him too," said the young man quietly. Whereupon he took the morocco case out of Klara's hand, shut it with a snap and put it back into his pocket. "What are you doing?" cried Klara in a fright. "As you see, pretty one, I am putting the bracelet away for future use." "But . . ." she stammered. "If I can't put the bracelet on your arm myself," he said decisively, "you shan't have it at all." "But . . ." "That is my last word. Let us talk of something else." "No, no! We won't talk of something else. You said the bracelet was for me." She cast a languishing look on him through her long upper lashes; she bared her wrist and held it out to him. Leopold and his jealousy might go hang for aught she cared, for she meant to have the bracelet. The young man, with a fatuous little laugh, brought out the case once more. With his own hands he now fastened the bracelet round Klara Goldstein's wrist. Then--as a matter of course--he kissed her round, brown arm just above the bracelet, and also the red lips through which the words of thanks came quickly tumbling. Klara did not dare to look across the room. She felt, though she did not see, Leopold's pale eyes watching this little scene with a glow in them of ferocious hate and of almost animal rage. "I won't stay now, Klara," said the young Count, dropping his voice suddenly to a whisper; "too many of these louts about. When will you be free?" "Oh, not to-day," she whispered in reply. "After the fair there are sure to be late-comers. And you know Er s B la has a ball on at the barn and supper afterwards. . . ." "The very thing," he broke in, in an eager whisper. "While they are all at supper, I'll come in for a drink and a chat. . . . Ten o'clock, eh?" "Oh, no, no!" she protested feebly. "My father wouldn't like it, he . . ." "D----n your father, my dear, as I remarked before. And, as a matter of fact, your father is not going to be in the way at all. He goes to Kecskem t by the night train." "How do you know that?" "My father told me quite casually that Goldstein was seeing to some business for him at Kecskem t to-morrow. So it was not very difficult to guess that if your father was to be in Kecskem t to-morrow in time to transact business, he would have to travel up by the nine o'clock train this evening in order to get there." Then, as she made no reply, and a blush of pleasure gradually suffused her dark skin, lending it additional charm and giving to her eyes added brilliancy, he continued, more peremptorily this time: "At ten o'clock, then--I'll come back. Get rid of as many of these louts by then as you can." She was only too ready to yield. Not only was she hugely flattered by my lord's attentions, but she found him excessively attractive. He could make himself very agreeable to a woman if he chose, and evidently he chose to do so now. Moreover Klara had found by previous experience that to yield to the young man's varied and varying caprices was always remunerative, and there was that gold watch which he had once vaguely promised her, and which she knew she could get out of him if she had the time and opportunity, as she certainly would have to-night if he came. Count Feri, seeing that she had all but yielded, was preparing to go. Her hand was still in his, and he was pressing her slender fingers in token of a pledge for this evening. "At ten o'clock," he whispered again. "No, no," she protested once more, but this time he must have known that she only did it for form's sake and really meant to let him have his way. "The neighbours would see you enter, and there might be a whole lot of people in the tap-room at that hour: one never knows. They would know by then that my father had gone away and they would talk such scandal about me. My reputation . . ." No doubt he felt inclined to ejaculate in his usual manner: "D----n your reputation!" but he thought better of it, and merely said casually: "I need not come in by the front door, need I?" "The back door is always locked," she remarked ingenuously. "My father invariably locks it himself the last thing at night." "But since he is going to Kecskem t . . ." he suggested. "When he has to be away from home for the night he locks the door from the inside and takes the key away with him." "Surely there is a duplicate key somewhere? . . ." "I don't know," she murmured. "If you don't know, who should?" he remarked, with affected indifference. "Well! I shall have to make myself heard at the back door--that's all!" "How?" "Wouldn't you hear me if I knocked?" "Not if I were in the tap-room and a lot of customers to attend to." "Well, then, I should hammer away until you did hear me." "For that old gossip R zi to hear you," she protested. "Her cottage is not fifty paces away from our back door." "Then it will have to be the front door, after all," he rejoined philosophically. "No, no!--the neighbours--and perhaps the tap-room full of people." "But d----n it, Klara," he exclaimed impatiently, "I have made up my mind to come and spend my last evening with you--and when I have made up my mind to a thing, I am not likely to change it because of a lot of gossiping peasants, because of old R zi, or the whole lot of them. So if you don't want me to come in by the front door, which is open, or to knock at the back door, which is locked, how am I going to get in?" "I don't know." "Well, then, you'll have to find out, my pretty one," he said decisively, "for it has got to be done somehow, or that gold watch we spoke of the other day will have to go to somebody else. And you know when I say a thing I mean it. Eh?" "There is a duplicate key," she whispered shyly, ". . . to the back door, I mean." "I thought there was," he remarked dryly. "Where is it?" "In the next room. . . . It hangs on a nail by father's bedside." "Go and get it, then," he said more impatiently. "Not now," she urged. "Leopold is looking straight at you and me." He shrugged his aristocratic shoulders. "You are not afraid of that monkey?" he said with a laugh. "Well, no! not exactly afraid. But he is so insanely jealous; one never knows what kind of mischief he'll get into. He told me just now that whenever father is away from home he takes his stand outside this house from nightfall till morning--watching!" "A modern Argus--eh?" "A modern lunatic!" she retorted. "Well!" resumed the young man lightly, "lunatic or not, he won't be able to keep an eye on you to-night, even though your father will be away." "How do you mean?" "Hirsch is off to

goldstein

How many times the word 'goldstein' appears in the text?

ticked off on her long, pointed fingers the last bevy of her admirers on whom she might reasonably count: the son of the chemist over in Arad, the tenant of the Kender Road farm, the proprietor of the station cabs, and there were two or three others; but they were certainly falling away, and she had added no new ones to her list these past six months. Er s B la's formally declared engagement to Kapus Elsa had been a very severe blow. She had really reckoned on B la. He was educated and unconventional, and though he professed the usual anti-Semitic views peculiar to his kind, Klara did not believe that these were very genuine. At any rate, she had reckoned that her fine eyes and provocative ways would tilt successfully against the man's racial prejudices. Er s B la was rich and certainly, up to a point, in love with her. Klara was congratulating herself on the way she was playing her matrimonial cards, when all her hopes were so suddenly dashed to the ground. B la was going to marry that silly, ignorant peasant girl, and she, Klara, would be left to marry Leopold after all. Her anger and humiliation had been very great, and she had battled very persistently and very ably to regain the prize which she had lost. She knew quite well that, but for the fact that she belonged to the alien and despised race, Er s B la would have been only too happy to marry her. His vanity alone had made him choose Kapus Elsa. He wanted the noted beauty for himself, because the noted beauty had been courted by so many people, and where so many people had failed he was proud to succeed. Nor would he have cared to have it said that he had married a Jewess. There is always a certain thought of disgrace attached to such a marriage, whether it has been contracted by peer or peasant, and Er s B la's one dominating idea in life was to keep the respect and deference of his native village. But he had continued his attentions to Klara, and Klara had kept a wonderful hold over his imagination and over his will. She was the one woman who had ever had her will with him--only partially, of course, and not to the extent of forcing him into matrimony--but sufficiently to keep him also dangling round her skirts even though his whole allegiance should have belonged to Elsa. The banquet this afternoon had been a veritable triumph. Whatever she had suffered through B la's final disloyalty to herself, she knew that Kapus Elsa must have suffered all through the banquet. The humiliation of seeing one's bridegroom openly flaunting his admiration for another woman must have been indeed very bitter to bear. Not for a moment did Klara Goldstein doubt that the subsequent scene was an act of vengeance against herself on Elsa's part. She judged other women by her own standard, discounted other women's emotions, thoughts, feelings, by her own. She thought it quite natural that Elsa should wish to be revenged, just as she was quite sure that B la was already meditating some kind of retaliation for the shame which Andor had put upon him and for Elsa's obstinacy and share in the matter. She had not spoken to anyone of the little scene which had occurred between the four walls of the little schoolroom: on the contrary she had spoken loudly of both the bridegroom's and the bride's cordiality to her during the banquet. "Elsa wanted me to go to the dancing this evening," she said casually, "but I thought you would all miss me. I didn't want this place to be dull just because half the village is enjoying itself somewhere else." It had been market day at Arad, and at about five o'clock Klara and her father became very busy. Cattle-dealers and pig-merchants, travellers and pedlars, dropped in for a glass of silvorium and a chat with the good-looking Jewess. More than one bargain, discussed on the marketplace of Arad, was concluded in the stuffy tap-room of Marosfalva. "Shall we be honoured by the young Count's presence later on?" someone asked, with a significant nod to Klara. Everyone laughed in sympathy; the admiration of the noble young Count for Klara Goldstein was well-known. There was nothing in it, of course; even Klara, vain and ambitious as she was, knew that the bridge which divided the aristocrat from one of her kind and of her race was an impassable one. But she liked the young Count's attentions--she liked the presents he brought her from time to time, and relished the notoriety which this flirtation gave her. She also loved to tease poor Leopold Hirsch. Leo had been passionately in love with her for years; what he must have endured in moral and mental torture during that time through his jealousy and often groundless suspicions no one who did not know him intimately could ever have guessed. These tortures which Klara wantonly inflicted upon the wretched young man had been a constant source of amusement to her. Even now she was delighted because, as luck would have it, he entered the tap-room at the very moment when everyone was chaffing her about the young Count. Leopold Hirsch cast a quick, suspicious glance upon the girl, and his dull olive skin assumed an almost greenish hue. He was not of prepossessing appearance; this he knew himself, and the knowledge helped to keep his jealousy and his suspicion aflame. He was short and lean of stature and his head, with its large, bony features, seemed too big for his narrow shoulders to carry. His ginger-coloured hair was lank and scanty; he wore it--after the manner of those of his race in that part of the world--in corkscrew ringlets down each side of his narrow, cadaverous-looking face. His eyes were pale and shifty, but every now and then there shot into them a curious gleam of unbridled passion--love, hate or revenge; and then the whole face would light up and compel attention by the revelation of latent power. This had happened now when a fellow who sat in the corner by the window made some rough jest about the young Count. Leopold made his way to Klara's side; his thin lips were tightly pressed together, and he had buried his hands in the pockets of his ill-fitting trousers. "If that accursed aristocrat comes hanging round here much more, Klara," he muttered between set teeth, "I'll kill him one of these days." "What a fool you are, Leopold!" she said. "Why, yesterday it was Er s B la you objected to." "And I do still," he retorted. "I heard of your conduct at the banquet to-day. It is the talk of the village. One by one these loutish peasants have come into my shop and told me the tale--curse them!--of how the bridegroom had eyes and ears only for you. You seem to forget, Klara," he added, while a thought of menace crept into his voice, "that you are tokened to me now. So don't try and make a fool of me, or . . ." "The Lord bless you, my good man," she retorted, with a laugh, "I won't try, I promise you. I wouldn't like to compete with the Almighty, who has done that for you already." "Klara . . ." he exclaimed. "Oh! be quiet now, Leo," she said impatiently. "Can't you see that my hands are as full as I can manage, without my having to bother about you and your jealous tempers?" She elbowed him aside and went to the counter to serve a customer who had just arrived, and more than a quarter of an hour went by before Leopold had the chance of another word with her. "You might have a kind word for me to-night, Klara," he said ruefully, as soon as a brief lull in business enabled him to approach the girl. "Why specially to-night?" she asked indifferently. "Your father must go by the night train to Kecskem t," he said, with seeming irrelevance. "There is that business about the plums." "The plums?" she asked, with a frown of puzzlement, "what plums?" "The fruit he bought near Kecskem t. They start gathering at sunrise to-morrow. He must be there the first hour, else he'd get shamefully robbed. He must travel by night." "I knew nothing about it," rejoined Klara, with an indifferent shrug of the shoulders. "Father never tells me when he is going to be away from home." "No!" retorted Leopold, with a sneer, "he knows better than to give all your gallants such a brilliant opportunity." "Don't be a fool, Leo!" she reiterated with a laugh. "I don't give any of them an opportunity, either," resumed the young man, while a curious look of almost animal ferocity crept into his pale face. "Whenever your father has to be away from home during the night, I take up my position outside this house and watch over you until daylight comes and people begin to come and go." "Very thoughtful of you, my good Leo," she rejoined dryly, "but you need not give yourself the trouble. I am well able to look after myself." "If any man molested you," continued Leopold, speaking very calmly, "I would kill him." "Who should molest me, you silly fool? And anyhow, I won't have you spying upon me like that." "You must not call it spying, Klara. I love to stand outside this house in the peace and darkness of the night, and to think of you quietly sleeping whilst I am keeping watch over you. You wouldn't call a watchdog a spy, would you?" "I know that to-night I shan't sleep a wink," she retorted crossly, "once father has gone. I shall always be thinking of you out there in the dark, watching this house. It will make me nervous." "To-night . . ." he began, and then abruptly checked himself. Once more that quick flash of passion shot through his pale, deep-set eyes. It seemed as if he meant to tell her something, which on second thoughts he decided to keep to himself. Her keen, dark eyes searched his face for a moment or two; she wondered what it was that lurked behind that high, smooth forehead of his and within the depths of that curiously perverted brain. Before she had time, however, to question him, Er s B la made noisy irruption into the room. He was greeted with a storm of cheers. "Hello, B la!" "Not the bridegroom, surely?" "Who would have thought of seeing you here?" While Leopold Hirsch muttered audibly: "What devil's mischief has brought this fellow here to-day, I wonder?" B la seemed in boisterous good-humour--with somewhat ostentatious hilarity he greeted all his friends, and then ordered some of Ign cz Goldstein's best wine for everybody all round. "Bravo, B la!" came from every side, together with loud applause at this unexpected liberality. "It is nice of you not to forget old friends," Klara whispered in his ear, as soon as he succeeded in reaching her side. "Whew!" he ejaculated with a sneer, "you have no idea, my good Klara, how I've been boring myself these past two hours. Those loutish peasants have no idea of enjoyment save their eternal gipsy music and their interminable cs rd s." "For a man of your education, B la," said Klara, with an insinuating smile, "it must be odiously dull. You would far rather have had a game of cards, wouldn't you now?" "I would far rather have had you at that infernal dance, so as to have had somebody to talk to," he retorted savagely. "Oh!" she said demurely, "that would never have done. Elsa must have such a lot to say to you herself. It would not be seemly for me to stand in the way." "Elsa, as you know, has that silly cs rd s on the brain. She has been dancing ever since six o'clock and has only given me about ten minutes of her company. She seems to belong to-night to every young fool that can dance, rather than to me." "Ah well! When you are married you can stop all that, my good B la. You can forbid your wife to dance the cs rd s, you know. I know many men who do it. Then Elsa will learn to appreciate the pleasure of your conversation. Though she is no longer very young, she is still very ignorant. You will have to educate her . . . bring her up to your own level of intelligence and of learning. In the meanwhile, do sit down and drink with those who, like yourself, have come here for an hour or two to break the monotony of perpetual czig ny music and dancing." She busied herself with drawing the corks of a number of bottles, which she then transferred from the end of the room where she stood to the tables at which sat her customers; she also brought out some fresh glasses. B la watched her for a moment or two in silence, unconscious of the fact that he, too, was being watched by a pair of pale eyes in which lurked a gleam of jealousy and of hate. Suddenly, as Klara brushed past him carrying bottles and glasses, he took hold of her by the elbow and drew her close to him. "These louts won't stay late to-night, will they?" he whispered in her ear. "No, not late," she replied; "they will go on to the barn in time for the supper, you may be sure of that. Why do you ask?" "I will have the supper served at ten o'clock," he continued to whisper, "but I'll not sit down to it. Not without you." "Don't be foolish, B la," she retorted. But even as he spoke, a little gleam of satisfaction, of gratified vanity, of anticipatory revenge, shot through her velvety dark eyes. "I warned Elsa," he continued sullenly; "I told her that if you were not at the feast, I should not be there either. She has disobeyed me. I must punish her." "So?" she rejoined, with an acid smile. "It is only in order to punish Elsa that you want to sup with me?" "Don't be stupid, Klara," he retorted. "I'll come at ten o'clock. Will you have some supper ready for me then? I have two or three bottles of French champagne over at my house--I'll bring them along. Will you be ready for me?" "Be silent, B la," she broke in hurriedly. "Can't you see that that fool Leo is watching us all the time?" "Curse, him! What have I got to do with him?" muttered B la savagely. "You will be ready for me, Klara?" "No!" she said decisively. "Better make your peace with Elsa. I'll have none of her leavings. I've had all I wanted out of you to-day--the banquet first and now your coming here. . . . It'll be all over the village presently--and that's all I care about. Have a drink now," she added good-humouredly, "and then go and make your peace with Elsa . . . if you can." She turned abruptly away from him, leaving him to murmur curses under his breath, and went on attending to her customers; nor did he get for the moment another opportunity of speaking with her, for Leopold Hirsch hovered round her for some considerable time after that, and presently, with much noise and pomp and circumstance, no less a personage than the noble young Count himself graced the premises of Ign cz Goldstein the Jew with his august presence. CHAPTER XIX "Now go and fetch the key." He belonged to the ancient family of R kosy, who had owned property on both banks of the Maros for the past eight centuries, and Feri R kosy, the twentieth-century representative of his medi val forbears, was a good-looking young fellow of the type so often met with among the upper classes in Hungary: quite something English in appearance--well set-up, well-dressed, well-groomed from the top of his smooth brown hair to the tips of his immaculately-shod feet--in the eyes an expression of habitual boredom, further accentuated by the slight, affected stoop of the shoulders and a few premature lines round the nose and mouth; and about his whole personality that air of high-breeding and of good, pure blood which is one of the chief characteristics of the true Hungarian aristocracy. He did little more than acknowledge the respectful salutations which greeted him from every corner of the little room as he entered, but he nodded to Er s B la and smiled all over his good-looking face at Klara, who, in her turn, welcomed him with a profusion of smiles which brought a volley of muttered curses to Leopold Hirsch's lips. While he held her one hand rather longer than was necessary she, with the other, took his hat from him, and then, laughing coquettishly, she pointed to a parcel which was causing the pocket of his well-cut Norfolk jacket to bulge immoderately. "Is that something for me?" she asked. "Of course it is," he replied lightly; "I bought it at the fair in Arad for you to-day." "How thoughtful of you!" she said, with a little sigh of pleasure. "Thoughtful?" he retorted, laughing pleasantly. "My good Klara, if I hadn't thought of you I would have died of boredom this afternoon. Here, give me a glass of your father's best wine and I'll tell you." He sat down with easy familiarity on the corner of the table which served as a counter. Klara, after this, had eyes and ears only for him. How could it be otherwise, seeing that it was not often a noble lord graced a village tap-room with his presence. Conversations round the room were now carried on in whispers; tarok cards were produced and here and there a game was in progress. Those who had drunk overmuch made themselves as inconspicuous as they could, drawing themselves closely against the wall, or frankly reclining across the table with arms outstretched and heads buried between them out of sight. An atmosphere of subdued animation and decorum reigned in the place; not a few men, oppressed by their sense of respect for my lord, had effected a quiet exit through the door, preferring the jovial atmosphere of the barn, from whence came, during certain hushed moments, the sounds of music and of laughter. The young man--whose presence caused all this revulsion in the usually noisy atmosphere of the tap-room--took no heed whatever of anything that went on around him: he seemed unconscious alike of the deference of the peasants as of the dark, menacing scowl with which Leopold Hirsch regarded him. He certainly did not bestow a single glance on Er s B la who, at my lord's appearance, had retreated into the very darkest corner of the room. B la did not care to encounter the young Count's sneering remarks just now--and these would of a certainty have been levelled against the bridegroom who was sitting in a tap-room when he should have been in attendance on his bride. But indeed my lord never saw him. To this young scion of a noble race, which had owned land and serfs for centuries past, these peasants here were of no more account than his oxen or his sheep--nor was the owner of a village shop of any more consequence in my lord's eyes. He came here because there was a good-looking Jewess in the tap-room whose conversation amused him, and whose dark, velvety eyes, fringed with long lashes, and mouth with full, red lips, stirred his jaded senses in a more pleasant and more decided way than did the eyes and lips of the demure, well-bred young Countesses and Baronesses who formed his usual social circle. Whether his flirtation with Klara, the Jewess, annoyed the girl's Jew lover or not, did not matter to him one jot; on the contrary the jealousy of that dirty lout Hirsch enhanced his amusement to a considerable extent. Therefore he did not take the trouble to lower his voice now when he talked to Klara, and it was quite openly that he put his arm round her waist while he held his glass to her lips--"To sweeten your father's vinegar!" he said with a laugh. "You know, my pretty Klara," he said gaily, "that I was half afraid I shouldn't see you to-day at all." "No?" she asked coquettishly. "No, by gad! My father was so soft-hearted to allow Er s a day off for his wedding or something, and so, if you please, I had to go to Arad with him, as he had to see about a sale of clover. I thought we should never get back. The roads were abominable." "I hardly expected your lordship," she said demurely. To punish her for that little lie, he tweaked her small ear till it became a bright crimson. "That is to punish you for telling such a lie," he said gaily. "You know that I meant to come and say good-bye." "Your lordship goes to-morrow?" she asked with a sigh. "To shoot bears, my pretty Klara," he replied. "I don't want to go. I would rather stay another week here for you to amuse me, you know." "I am proud . . ." she whispered. "So much do you amuse me that I have brought you a present, just to show you that I thought of you to-day and because I want you not to forget me during the three months that I shall be gone." He drew the parcel out of his pocket and, turning his back to the rest of the room, he cut the string and undid the paper that wrapped it. The contents of the parcel proved to be a morocco case, which flew open at a touch and displayed a gold curb chain bracelet--the dream of Klara Goldstein's desires. "For me?" she said, with a gasp of delight. "For your pretty arm, yes," he replied. "Shall I put it on?" She cast a swift, apprehensive glance round the room over his shoulder. "No, no, not now," she said quickly. "Why not?" "Father mightn't like it. I'd have to ask him." "D----n your father!" "And that fool, Leopold, is so insanely jealous." "D----n him too," said the young man quietly. Whereupon he took the morocco case out of Klara's hand, shut it with a snap and put it back into his pocket. "What are you doing?" cried Klara in a fright. "As you see, pretty one, I am putting the bracelet away for future use." "But . . ." she stammered. "If I can't put the bracelet on your arm myself," he said decisively, "you shan't have it at all." "But . . ." "That is my last word. Let us talk of something else." "No, no! We won't talk of something else. You said the bracelet was for me." She cast a languishing look on him through her long upper lashes; she bared her wrist and held it out to him. Leopold and his jealousy might go hang for aught she cared, for she meant to have the bracelet. The young man, with a fatuous little laugh, brought out the case once more. With his own hands he now fastened the bracelet round Klara Goldstein's wrist. Then--as a matter of course--he kissed her round, brown arm just above the bracelet, and also the red lips through which the words of thanks came quickly tumbling. Klara did not dare to look across the room. She felt, though she did not see, Leopold's pale eyes watching this little scene with a glow in them of ferocious hate and of almost animal rage. "I won't stay now, Klara," said the young Count, dropping his voice suddenly to a whisper; "too many of these louts about. When will you be free?" "Oh, not to-day," she whispered in reply. "After the fair there are sure to be late-comers. And you know Er s B la has a ball on at the barn and supper afterwards. . . ." "The very thing," he broke in, in an eager whisper. "While they are all at supper, I'll come in for a drink and a chat. . . . Ten o'clock, eh?" "Oh, no, no!" she protested feebly. "My father wouldn't like it, he . . ." "D----n your father, my dear, as I remarked before. And, as a matter of fact, your father is not going to be in the way at all. He goes to Kecskem t by the night train." "How do you know that?" "My father told me quite casually that Goldstein was seeing to some business for him at Kecskem t to-morrow. So it was not very difficult to guess that if your father was to be in Kecskem t to-morrow in time to transact business, he would have to travel up by the nine o'clock train this evening in order to get there." Then, as she made no reply, and a blush of pleasure gradually suffused her dark skin, lending it additional charm and giving to her eyes added brilliancy, he continued, more peremptorily this time: "At ten o'clock, then--I'll come back. Get rid of as many of these louts by then as you can." She was only too ready to yield. Not only was she hugely flattered by my lord's attentions, but she found him excessively attractive. He could make himself very agreeable to a woman if he chose, and evidently he chose to do so now. Moreover Klara had found by previous experience that to yield to the young man's varied and varying caprices was always remunerative, and there was that gold watch which he had once vaguely promised her, and which she knew she could get out of him if she had the time and opportunity, as she certainly would have to-night if he came. Count Feri, seeing that she had all but yielded, was preparing to go. Her hand was still in his, and he was pressing her slender fingers in token of a pledge for this evening. "At ten o'clock," he whispered again. "No, no," she protested once more, but this time he must have known that she only did it for form's sake and really meant to let him have his way. "The neighbours would see you enter, and there might be a whole lot of people in the tap-room at that hour: one never knows. They would know by then that my father had gone away and they would talk such scandal about me. My reputation . . ." No doubt he felt inclined to ejaculate in his usual manner: "D----n your reputation!" but he thought better of it, and merely said casually: "I need not come in by the front door, need I?" "The back door is always locked," she remarked ingenuously. "My father invariably locks it himself the last thing at night." "But since he is going to Kecskem t . . ." he suggested. "When he has to be away from home for the night he locks the door from the inside and takes the key away with him." "Surely there is a duplicate key somewhere? . . ." "I don't know," she murmured. "If you don't know, who should?" he remarked, with affected indifference. "Well! I shall have to make myself heard at the back door--that's all!" "How?" "Wouldn't you hear me if I knocked?" "Not if I were in the tap-room and a lot of customers to attend to." "Well, then, I should hammer away until you did hear me." "For that old gossip R zi to hear you," she protested. "Her cottage is not fifty paces away from our back door." "Then it will have to be the front door, after all," he rejoined philosophically. "No, no!--the neighbours--and perhaps the tap-room full of people." "But d----n it, Klara," he exclaimed impatiently, "I have made up my mind to come and spend my last evening with you--and when I have made up my mind to a thing, I am not likely to change it because of a lot of gossiping peasants, because of old R zi, or the whole lot of them. So if you don't want me to come in by the front door, which is open, or to knock at the back door, which is locked, how am I going to get in?" "I don't know." "Well, then, you'll have to find out, my pretty one," he said decisively, "for it has got to be done somehow, or that gold watch we spoke of the other day will have to go to somebody else. And you know when I say a thing I mean it. Eh?" "There is a duplicate key," she whispered shyly, ". . . to the back door, I mean." "I thought there was," he remarked dryly. "Where is it?" "In the next room. . . . It hangs on a nail by father's bedside." "Go and get it, then," he said more impatiently. "Not now," she urged. "Leopold is looking straight at you and me." He shrugged his aristocratic shoulders. "You are not afraid of that monkey?" he said with a laugh. "Well, no! not exactly afraid. But he is so insanely jealous; one never knows what kind of mischief he'll get into. He told me just now that whenever father is away from home he takes his stand outside this house from nightfall till morning--watching!" "A modern Argus--eh?" "A modern lunatic!" she retorted. "Well!" resumed the young man lightly, "lunatic or not, he won't be able to keep an eye on you to-night, even though your father will be away." "How do you mean?" "Hirsch is off to

miss

How many times the word 'miss' appears in the text?

ticked off on her long, pointed fingers the last bevy of her admirers on whom she might reasonably count: the son of the chemist over in Arad, the tenant of the Kender Road farm, the proprietor of the station cabs, and there were two or three others; but they were certainly falling away, and she had added no new ones to her list these past six months. Er s B la's formally declared engagement to Kapus Elsa had been a very severe blow. She had really reckoned on B la. He was educated and unconventional, and though he professed the usual anti-Semitic views peculiar to his kind, Klara did not believe that these were very genuine. At any rate, she had reckoned that her fine eyes and provocative ways would tilt successfully against the man's racial prejudices. Er s B la was rich and certainly, up to a point, in love with her. Klara was congratulating herself on the way she was playing her matrimonial cards, when all her hopes were so suddenly dashed to the ground. B la was going to marry that silly, ignorant peasant girl, and she, Klara, would be left to marry Leopold after all. Her anger and humiliation had been very great, and she had battled very persistently and very ably to regain the prize which she had lost. She knew quite well that, but for the fact that she belonged to the alien and despised race, Er s B la would have been only too happy to marry her. His vanity alone had made him choose Kapus Elsa. He wanted the noted beauty for himself, because the noted beauty had been courted by so many people, and where so many people had failed he was proud to succeed. Nor would he have cared to have it said that he had married a Jewess. There is always a certain thought of disgrace attached to such a marriage, whether it has been contracted by peer or peasant, and Er s B la's one dominating idea in life was to keep the respect and deference of his native village. But he had continued his attentions to Klara, and Klara had kept a wonderful hold over his imagination and over his will. She was the one woman who had ever had her will with him--only partially, of course, and not to the extent of forcing him into matrimony--but sufficiently to keep him also dangling round her skirts even though his whole allegiance should have belonged to Elsa. The banquet this afternoon had been a veritable triumph. Whatever she had suffered through B la's final disloyalty to herself, she knew that Kapus Elsa must have suffered all through the banquet. The humiliation of seeing one's bridegroom openly flaunting his admiration for another woman must have been indeed very bitter to bear. Not for a moment did Klara Goldstein doubt that the subsequent scene was an act of vengeance against herself on Elsa's part. She judged other women by her own standard, discounted other women's emotions, thoughts, feelings, by her own. She thought it quite natural that Elsa should wish to be revenged, just as she was quite sure that B la was already meditating some kind of retaliation for the shame which Andor had put upon him and for Elsa's obstinacy and share in the matter. She had not spoken to anyone of the little scene which had occurred between the four walls of the little schoolroom: on the contrary she had spoken loudly of both the bridegroom's and the bride's cordiality to her during the banquet. "Elsa wanted me to go to the dancing this evening," she said casually, "but I thought you would all miss me. I didn't want this place to be dull just because half the village is enjoying itself somewhere else." It had been market day at Arad, and at about five o'clock Klara and her father became very busy. Cattle-dealers and pig-merchants, travellers and pedlars, dropped in for a glass of silvorium and a chat with the good-looking Jewess. More than one bargain, discussed on the marketplace of Arad, was concluded in the stuffy tap-room of Marosfalva. "Shall we be honoured by the young Count's presence later on?" someone asked, with a significant nod to Klara. Everyone laughed in sympathy; the admiration of the noble young Count for Klara Goldstein was well-known. There was nothing in it, of course; even Klara, vain and ambitious as she was, knew that the bridge which divided the aristocrat from one of her kind and of her race was an impassable one. But she liked the young Count's attentions--she liked the presents he brought her from time to time, and relished the notoriety which this flirtation gave her. She also loved to tease poor Leopold Hirsch. Leo had been passionately in love with her for years; what he must have endured in moral and mental torture during that time through his jealousy and often groundless suspicions no one who did not know him intimately could ever have guessed. These tortures which Klara wantonly inflicted upon the wretched young man had been a constant source of amusement to her. Even now she was delighted because, as luck would have it, he entered the tap-room at the very moment when everyone was chaffing her about the young Count. Leopold Hirsch cast a quick, suspicious glance upon the girl, and his dull olive skin assumed an almost greenish hue. He was not of prepossessing appearance; this he knew himself, and the knowledge helped to keep his jealousy and his suspicion aflame. He was short and lean of stature and his head, with its large, bony features, seemed too big for his narrow shoulders to carry. His ginger-coloured hair was lank and scanty; he wore it--after the manner of those of his race in that part of the world--in corkscrew ringlets down each side of his narrow, cadaverous-looking face. His eyes were pale and shifty, but every now and then there shot into them a curious gleam of unbridled passion--love, hate or revenge; and then the whole face would light up and compel attention by the revelation of latent power. This had happened now when a fellow who sat in the corner by the window made some rough jest about the young Count. Leopold made his way to Klara's side; his thin lips were tightly pressed together, and he had buried his hands in the pockets of his ill-fitting trousers. "If that accursed aristocrat comes hanging round here much more, Klara," he muttered between set teeth, "I'll kill him one of these days." "What a fool you are, Leopold!" she said. "Why, yesterday it was Er s B la you objected to." "And I do still," he retorted. "I heard of your conduct at the banquet to-day. It is the talk of the village. One by one these loutish peasants have come into my shop and told me the tale--curse them!--of how the bridegroom had eyes and ears only for you. You seem to forget, Klara," he added, while a thought of menace crept into his voice, "that you are tokened to me now. So don't try and make a fool of me, or . . ." "The Lord bless you, my good man," she retorted, with a laugh, "I won't try, I promise you. I wouldn't like to compete with the Almighty, who has done that for you already." "Klara . . ." he exclaimed. "Oh! be quiet now, Leo," she said impatiently. "Can't you see that my hands are as full as I can manage, without my having to bother about you and your jealous tempers?" She elbowed him aside and went to the counter to serve a customer who had just arrived, and more than a quarter of an hour went by before Leopold had the chance of another word with her. "You might have a kind word for me to-night, Klara," he said ruefully, as soon as a brief lull in business enabled him to approach the girl. "Why specially to-night?" she asked indifferently. "Your father must go by the night train to Kecskem t," he said, with seeming irrelevance. "There is that business about the plums." "The plums?" she asked, with a frown of puzzlement, "what plums?" "The fruit he bought near Kecskem t. They start gathering at sunrise to-morrow. He must be there the first hour, else he'd get shamefully robbed. He must travel by night." "I knew nothing about it," rejoined Klara, with an indifferent shrug of the shoulders. "Father never tells me when he is going to be away from home." "No!" retorted Leopold, with a sneer, "he knows better than to give all your gallants such a brilliant opportunity." "Don't be a fool, Leo!" she reiterated with a laugh. "I don't give any of them an opportunity, either," resumed the young man, while a curious look of almost animal ferocity crept into his pale face. "Whenever your father has to be away from home during the night, I take up my position outside this house and watch over you until daylight comes and people begin to come and go." "Very thoughtful of you, my good Leo," she rejoined dryly, "but you need not give yourself the trouble. I am well able to look after myself." "If any man molested you," continued Leopold, speaking very calmly, "I would kill him." "Who should molest me, you silly fool? And anyhow, I won't have you spying upon me like that." "You must not call it spying, Klara. I love to stand outside this house in the peace and darkness of the night, and to think of you quietly sleeping whilst I am keeping watch over you. You wouldn't call a watchdog a spy, would you?" "I know that to-night I shan't sleep a wink," she retorted crossly, "once father has gone. I shall always be thinking of you out there in the dark, watching this house. It will make me nervous." "To-night . . ." he began, and then abruptly checked himself. Once more that quick flash of passion shot through his pale, deep-set eyes. It seemed as if he meant to tell her something, which on second thoughts he decided to keep to himself. Her keen, dark eyes searched his face for a moment or two; she wondered what it was that lurked behind that high, smooth forehead of his and within the depths of that curiously perverted brain. Before she had time, however, to question him, Er s B la made noisy irruption into the room. He was greeted with a storm of cheers. "Hello, B la!" "Not the bridegroom, surely?" "Who would have thought of seeing you here?" While Leopold Hirsch muttered audibly: "What devil's mischief has brought this fellow here to-day, I wonder?" B la seemed in boisterous good-humour--with somewhat ostentatious hilarity he greeted all his friends, and then ordered some of Ign cz Goldstein's best wine for everybody all round. "Bravo, B la!" came from every side, together with loud applause at this unexpected liberality. "It is nice of you not to forget old friends," Klara whispered in his ear, as soon as he succeeded in reaching her side. "Whew!" he ejaculated with a sneer, "you have no idea, my good Klara, how I've been boring myself these past two hours. Those loutish peasants have no idea of enjoyment save their eternal gipsy music and their interminable cs rd s." "For a man of your education, B la," said Klara, with an insinuating smile, "it must be odiously dull. You would far rather have had a game of cards, wouldn't you now?" "I would far rather have had you at that infernal dance, so as to have had somebody to talk to," he retorted savagely. "Oh!" she said demurely, "that would never have done. Elsa must have such a lot to say to you herself. It would not be seemly for me to stand in the way." "Elsa, as you know, has that silly cs rd s on the brain. She has been dancing ever since six o'clock and has only given me about ten minutes of her company. She seems to belong to-night to every young fool that can dance, rather than to me." "Ah well! When you are married you can stop all that, my good B la. You can forbid your wife to dance the cs rd s, you know. I know many men who do it. Then Elsa will learn to appreciate the pleasure of your conversation. Though she is no longer very young, she is still very ignorant. You will have to educate her . . . bring her up to your own level of intelligence and of learning. In the meanwhile, do sit down and drink with those who, like yourself, have come here for an hour or two to break the monotony of perpetual czig ny music and dancing." She busied herself with drawing the corks of a number of bottles, which she then transferred from the end of the room where she stood to the tables at which sat her customers; she also brought out some fresh glasses. B la watched her for a moment or two in silence, unconscious of the fact that he, too, was being watched by a pair of pale eyes in which lurked a gleam of jealousy and of hate. Suddenly, as Klara brushed past him carrying bottles and glasses, he took hold of her by the elbow and drew her close to him. "These louts won't stay late to-night, will they?" he whispered in her ear. "No, not late," she replied; "they will go on to the barn in time for the supper, you may be sure of that. Why do you ask?" "I will have the supper served at ten o'clock," he continued to whisper, "but I'll not sit down to it. Not without you." "Don't be foolish, B la," she retorted. But even as he spoke, a little gleam of satisfaction, of gratified vanity, of anticipatory revenge, shot through her velvety dark eyes. "I warned Elsa," he continued sullenly; "I told her that if you were not at the feast, I should not be there either. She has disobeyed me. I must punish her." "So?" she rejoined, with an acid smile. "It is only in order to punish Elsa that you want to sup with me?" "Don't be stupid, Klara," he retorted. "I'll come at ten o'clock. Will you have some supper ready for me then? I have two or three bottles of French champagne over at my house--I'll bring them along. Will you be ready for me?" "Be silent, B la," she broke in hurriedly. "Can't you see that that fool Leo is watching us all the time?" "Curse, him! What have I got to do with him?" muttered B la savagely. "You will be ready for me, Klara?" "No!" she said decisively. "Better make your peace with Elsa. I'll have none of her leavings. I've had all I wanted out of you to-day--the banquet first and now your coming here. . . . It'll be all over the village presently--and that's all I care about. Have a drink now," she added good-humouredly, "and then go and make your peace with Elsa . . . if you can." She turned abruptly away from him, leaving him to murmur curses under his breath, and went on attending to her customers; nor did he get for the moment another opportunity of speaking with her, for Leopold Hirsch hovered round her for some considerable time after that, and presently, with much noise and pomp and circumstance, no less a personage than the noble young Count himself graced the premises of Ign cz Goldstein the Jew with his august presence. CHAPTER XIX "Now go and fetch the key." He belonged to the ancient family of R kosy, who had owned property on both banks of the Maros for the past eight centuries, and Feri R kosy, the twentieth-century representative of his medi val forbears, was a good-looking young fellow of the type so often met with among the upper classes in Hungary: quite something English in appearance--well set-up, well-dressed, well-groomed from the top of his smooth brown hair to the tips of his immaculately-shod feet--in the eyes an expression of habitual boredom, further accentuated by the slight, affected stoop of the shoulders and a few premature lines round the nose and mouth; and about his whole personality that air of high-breeding and of good, pure blood which is one of the chief characteristics of the true Hungarian aristocracy. He did little more than acknowledge the respectful salutations which greeted him from every corner of the little room as he entered, but he nodded to Er s B la and smiled all over his good-looking face at Klara, who, in her turn, welcomed him with a profusion of smiles which brought a volley of muttered curses to Leopold Hirsch's lips. While he held her one hand rather longer than was necessary she, with the other, took his hat from him, and then, laughing coquettishly, she pointed to a parcel which was causing the pocket of his well-cut Norfolk jacket to bulge immoderately. "Is that something for me?" she asked. "Of course it is," he replied lightly; "I bought it at the fair in Arad for you to-day." "How thoughtful of you!" she said, with a little sigh of pleasure. "Thoughtful?" he retorted, laughing pleasantly. "My good Klara, if I hadn't thought of you I would have died of boredom this afternoon. Here, give me a glass of your father's best wine and I'll tell you." He sat down with easy familiarity on the corner of the table which served as a counter. Klara, after this, had eyes and ears only for him. How could it be otherwise, seeing that it was not often a noble lord graced a village tap-room with his presence. Conversations round the room were now carried on in whispers; tarok cards were produced and here and there a game was in progress. Those who had drunk overmuch made themselves as inconspicuous as they could, drawing themselves closely against the wall, or frankly reclining across the table with arms outstretched and heads buried between them out of sight. An atmosphere of subdued animation and decorum reigned in the place; not a few men, oppressed by their sense of respect for my lord, had effected a quiet exit through the door, preferring the jovial atmosphere of the barn, from whence came, during certain hushed moments, the sounds of music and of laughter. The young man--whose presence caused all this revulsion in the usually noisy atmosphere of the tap-room--took no heed whatever of anything that went on around him: he seemed unconscious alike of the deference of the peasants as of the dark, menacing scowl with which Leopold Hirsch regarded him. He certainly did not bestow a single glance on Er s B la who, at my lord's appearance, had retreated into the very darkest corner of the room. B la did not care to encounter the young Count's sneering remarks just now--and these would of a certainty have been levelled against the bridegroom who was sitting in a tap-room when he should have been in attendance on his bride. But indeed my lord never saw him. To this young scion of a noble race, which had owned land and serfs for centuries past, these peasants here were of no more account than his oxen or his sheep--nor was the owner of a village shop of any more consequence in my lord's eyes. He came here because there was a good-looking Jewess in the tap-room whose conversation amused him, and whose dark, velvety eyes, fringed with long lashes, and mouth with full, red lips, stirred his jaded senses in a more pleasant and more decided way than did the eyes and lips of the demure, well-bred young Countesses and Baronesses who formed his usual social circle. Whether his flirtation with Klara, the Jewess, annoyed the girl's Jew lover or not, did not matter to him one jot; on the contrary the jealousy of that dirty lout Hirsch enhanced his amusement to a considerable extent. Therefore he did not take the trouble to lower his voice now when he talked to Klara, and it was quite openly that he put his arm round her waist while he held his glass to her lips--"To sweeten your father's vinegar!" he said with a laugh. "You know, my pretty Klara," he said gaily, "that I was half afraid I shouldn't see you to-day at all." "No?" she asked coquettishly. "No, by gad! My father was so soft-hearted to allow Er s a day off for his wedding or something, and so, if you please, I had to go to Arad with him, as he had to see about a sale of clover. I thought we should never get back. The roads were abominable." "I hardly expected your lordship," she said demurely. To punish her for that little lie, he tweaked her small ear till it became a bright crimson. "That is to punish you for telling such a lie," he said gaily. "You know that I meant to come and say good-bye." "Your lordship goes to-morrow?" she asked with a sigh. "To shoot bears, my pretty Klara," he replied. "I don't want to go. I would rather stay another week here for you to amuse me, you know." "I am proud . . ." she whispered. "So much do you amuse me that I have brought you a present, just to show you that I thought of you to-day and because I want you not to forget me during the three months that I shall be gone." He drew the parcel out of his pocket and, turning his back to the rest of the room, he cut the string and undid the paper that wrapped it. The contents of the parcel proved to be a morocco case, which flew open at a touch and displayed a gold curb chain bracelet--the dream of Klara Goldstein's desires. "For me?" she said, with a gasp of delight. "For your pretty arm, yes," he replied. "Shall I put it on?" She cast a swift, apprehensive glance round the room over his shoulder. "No, no, not now," she said quickly. "Why not?" "Father mightn't like it. I'd have to ask him." "D----n your father!" "And that fool, Leopold, is so insanely jealous." "D----n him too," said the young man quietly. Whereupon he took the morocco case out of Klara's hand, shut it with a snap and put it back into his pocket. "What are you doing?" cried Klara in a fright. "As you see, pretty one, I am putting the bracelet away for future use." "But . . ." she stammered. "If I can't put the bracelet on your arm myself," he said decisively, "you shan't have it at all." "But . . ." "That is my last word. Let us talk of something else." "No, no! We won't talk of something else. You said the bracelet was for me." She cast a languishing look on him through her long upper lashes; she bared her wrist and held it out to him. Leopold and his jealousy might go hang for aught she cared, for she meant to have the bracelet. The young man, with a fatuous little laugh, brought out the case once more. With his own hands he now fastened the bracelet round Klara Goldstein's wrist. Then--as a matter of course--he kissed her round, brown arm just above the bracelet, and also the red lips through which the words of thanks came quickly tumbling. Klara did not dare to look across the room. She felt, though she did not see, Leopold's pale eyes watching this little scene with a glow in them of ferocious hate and of almost animal rage. "I won't stay now, Klara," said the young Count, dropping his voice suddenly to a whisper; "too many of these louts about. When will you be free?" "Oh, not to-day," she whispered in reply. "After the fair there are sure to be late-comers. And you know Er s B la has a ball on at the barn and supper afterwards. . . ." "The very thing," he broke in, in an eager whisper. "While they are all at supper, I'll come in for a drink and a chat. . . . Ten o'clock, eh?" "Oh, no, no!" she protested feebly. "My father wouldn't like it, he . . ." "D----n your father, my dear, as I remarked before. And, as a matter of fact, your father is not going to be in the way at all. He goes to Kecskem t by the night train." "How do you know that?" "My father told me quite casually that Goldstein was seeing to some business for him at Kecskem t to-morrow. So it was not very difficult to guess that if your father was to be in Kecskem t to-morrow in time to transact business, he would have to travel up by the nine o'clock train this evening in order to get there." Then, as she made no reply, and a blush of pleasure gradually suffused her dark skin, lending it additional charm and giving to her eyes added brilliancy, he continued, more peremptorily this time: "At ten o'clock, then--I'll come back. Get rid of as many of these louts by then as you can." She was only too ready to yield. Not only was she hugely flattered by my lord's attentions, but she found him excessively attractive. He could make himself very agreeable to a woman if he chose, and evidently he chose to do so now. Moreover Klara had found by previous experience that to yield to the young man's varied and varying caprices was always remunerative, and there was that gold watch which he had once vaguely promised her, and which she knew she could get out of him if she had the time and opportunity, as she certainly would have to-night if he came. Count Feri, seeing that she had all but yielded, was preparing to go. Her hand was still in his, and he was pressing her slender fingers in token of a pledge for this evening. "At ten o'clock," he whispered again. "No, no," she protested once more, but this time he must have known that she only did it for form's sake and really meant to let him have his way. "The neighbours would see you enter, and there might be a whole lot of people in the tap-room at that hour: one never knows. They would know by then that my father had gone away and they would talk such scandal about me. My reputation . . ." No doubt he felt inclined to ejaculate in his usual manner: "D----n your reputation!" but he thought better of it, and merely said casually: "I need not come in by the front door, need I?" "The back door is always locked," she remarked ingenuously. "My father invariably locks it himself the last thing at night." "But since he is going to Kecskem t . . ." he suggested. "When he has to be away from home for the night he locks the door from the inside and takes the key away with him." "Surely there is a duplicate key somewhere? . . ." "I don't know," she murmured. "If you don't know, who should?" he remarked, with affected indifference. "Well! I shall have to make myself heard at the back door--that's all!" "How?" "Wouldn't you hear me if I knocked?" "Not if I were in the tap-room and a lot of customers to attend to." "Well, then, I should hammer away until you did hear me." "For that old gossip R zi to hear you," she protested. "Her cottage is not fifty paces away from our back door." "Then it will have to be the front door, after all," he rejoined philosophically. "No, no!--the neighbours--and perhaps the tap-room full of people." "But d----n it, Klara," he exclaimed impatiently, "I have made up my mind to come and spend my last evening with you--and when I have made up my mind to a thing, I am not likely to change it because of a lot of gossiping peasants, because of old R zi, or the whole lot of them. So if you don't want me to come in by the front door, which is open, or to knock at the back door, which is locked, how am I going to get in?" "I don't know." "Well, then, you'll have to find out, my pretty one," he said decisively, "for it has got to be done somehow, or that gold watch we spoke of the other day will have to go to somebody else. And you know when I say a thing I mean it. Eh?" "There is a duplicate key," she whispered shyly, ". . . to the back door, I mean." "I thought there was," he remarked dryly. "Where is it?" "In the next room. . . . It hangs on a nail by father's bedside." "Go and get it, then," he said more impatiently. "Not now," she urged. "Leopold is looking straight at you and me." He shrugged his aristocratic shoulders. "You are not afraid of that monkey?" he said with a laugh. "Well, no! not exactly afraid. But he is so insanely jealous; one never knows what kind of mischief he'll get into. He told me just now that whenever father is away from home he takes his stand outside this house from nightfall till morning--watching!" "A modern Argus--eh?" "A modern lunatic!" she retorted. "Well!" resumed the young man lightly, "lunatic or not, he won't be able to keep an eye on you to-night, even though your father will be away." "How do you mean?" "Hirsch is off to

forget

How many times the word 'forget' appears in the text?

ticked off on her long, pointed fingers the last bevy of her admirers on whom she might reasonably count: the son of the chemist over in Arad, the tenant of the Kender Road farm, the proprietor of the station cabs, and there were two or three others; but they were certainly falling away, and she had added no new ones to her list these past six months. Er s B la's formally declared engagement to Kapus Elsa had been a very severe blow. She had really reckoned on B la. He was educated and unconventional, and though he professed the usual anti-Semitic views peculiar to his kind, Klara did not believe that these were very genuine. At any rate, she had reckoned that her fine eyes and provocative ways would tilt successfully against the man's racial prejudices. Er s B la was rich and certainly, up to a point, in love with her. Klara was congratulating herself on the way she was playing her matrimonial cards, when all her hopes were so suddenly dashed to the ground. B la was going to marry that silly, ignorant peasant girl, and she, Klara, would be left to marry Leopold after all. Her anger and humiliation had been very great, and she had battled very persistently and very ably to regain the prize which she had lost. She knew quite well that, but for the fact that she belonged to the alien and despised race, Er s B la would have been only too happy to marry her. His vanity alone had made him choose Kapus Elsa. He wanted the noted beauty for himself, because the noted beauty had been courted by so many people, and where so many people had failed he was proud to succeed. Nor would he have cared to have it said that he had married a Jewess. There is always a certain thought of disgrace attached to such a marriage, whether it has been contracted by peer or peasant, and Er s B la's one dominating idea in life was to keep the respect and deference of his native village. But he had continued his attentions to Klara, and Klara had kept a wonderful hold over his imagination and over his will. She was the one woman who had ever had her will with him--only partially, of course, and not to the extent of forcing him into matrimony--but sufficiently to keep him also dangling round her skirts even though his whole allegiance should have belonged to Elsa. The banquet this afternoon had been a veritable triumph. Whatever she had suffered through B la's final disloyalty to herself, she knew that Kapus Elsa must have suffered all through the banquet. The humiliation of seeing one's bridegroom openly flaunting his admiration for another woman must have been indeed very bitter to bear. Not for a moment did Klara Goldstein doubt that the subsequent scene was an act of vengeance against herself on Elsa's part. She judged other women by her own standard, discounted other women's emotions, thoughts, feelings, by her own. She thought it quite natural that Elsa should wish to be revenged, just as she was quite sure that B la was already meditating some kind of retaliation for the shame which Andor had put upon him and for Elsa's obstinacy and share in the matter. She had not spoken to anyone of the little scene which had occurred between the four walls of the little schoolroom: on the contrary she had spoken loudly of both the bridegroom's and the bride's cordiality to her during the banquet. "Elsa wanted me to go to the dancing this evening," she said casually, "but I thought you would all miss me. I didn't want this place to be dull just because half the village is enjoying itself somewhere else." It had been market day at Arad, and at about five o'clock Klara and her father became very busy. Cattle-dealers and pig-merchants, travellers and pedlars, dropped in for a glass of silvorium and a chat with the good-looking Jewess. More than one bargain, discussed on the marketplace of Arad, was concluded in the stuffy tap-room of Marosfalva. "Shall we be honoured by the young Count's presence later on?" someone asked, with a significant nod to Klara. Everyone laughed in sympathy; the admiration of the noble young Count for Klara Goldstein was well-known. There was nothing in it, of course; even Klara, vain and ambitious as she was, knew that the bridge which divided the aristocrat from one of her kind and of her race was an impassable one. But she liked the young Count's attentions--she liked the presents he brought her from time to time, and relished the notoriety which this flirtation gave her. She also loved to tease poor Leopold Hirsch. Leo had been passionately in love with her for years; what he must have endured in moral and mental torture during that time through his jealousy and often groundless suspicions no one who did not know him intimately could ever have guessed. These tortures which Klara wantonly inflicted upon the wretched young man had been a constant source of amusement to her. Even now she was delighted because, as luck would have it, he entered the tap-room at the very moment when everyone was chaffing her about the young Count. Leopold Hirsch cast a quick, suspicious glance upon the girl, and his dull olive skin assumed an almost greenish hue. He was not of prepossessing appearance; this he knew himself, and the knowledge helped to keep his jealousy and his suspicion aflame. He was short and lean of stature and his head, with its large, bony features, seemed too big for his narrow shoulders to carry. His ginger-coloured hair was lank and scanty; he wore it--after the manner of those of his race in that part of the world--in corkscrew ringlets down each side of his narrow, cadaverous-looking face. His eyes were pale and shifty, but every now and then there shot into them a curious gleam of unbridled passion--love, hate or revenge; and then the whole face would light up and compel attention by the revelation of latent power. This had happened now when a fellow who sat in the corner by the window made some rough jest about the young Count. Leopold made his way to Klara's side; his thin lips were tightly pressed together, and he had buried his hands in the pockets of his ill-fitting trousers. "If that accursed aristocrat comes hanging round here much more, Klara," he muttered between set teeth, "I'll kill him one of these days." "What a fool you are, Leopold!" she said. "Why, yesterday it was Er s B la you objected to." "And I do still," he retorted. "I heard of your conduct at the banquet to-day. It is the talk of the village. One by one these loutish peasants have come into my shop and told me the tale--curse them!--of how the bridegroom had eyes and ears only for you. You seem to forget, Klara," he added, while a thought of menace crept into his voice, "that you are tokened to me now. So don't try and make a fool of me, or . . ." "The Lord bless you, my good man," she retorted, with a laugh, "I won't try, I promise you. I wouldn't like to compete with the Almighty, who has done that for you already." "Klara . . ." he exclaimed. "Oh! be quiet now, Leo," she said impatiently. "Can't you see that my hands are as full as I can manage, without my having to bother about you and your jealous tempers?" She elbowed him aside and went to the counter to serve a customer who had just arrived, and more than a quarter of an hour went by before Leopold had the chance of another word with her. "You might have a kind word for me to-night, Klara," he said ruefully, as soon as a brief lull in business enabled him to approach the girl. "Why specially to-night?" she asked indifferently. "Your father must go by the night train to Kecskem t," he said, with seeming irrelevance. "There is that business about the plums." "The plums?" she asked, with a frown of puzzlement, "what plums?" "The fruit he bought near Kecskem t. They start gathering at sunrise to-morrow. He must be there the first hour, else he'd get shamefully robbed. He must travel by night." "I knew nothing about it," rejoined Klara, with an indifferent shrug of the shoulders. "Father never tells me when he is going to be away from home." "No!" retorted Leopold, with a sneer, "he knows better than to give all your gallants such a brilliant opportunity." "Don't be a fool, Leo!" she reiterated with a laugh. "I don't give any of them an opportunity, either," resumed the young man, while a curious look of almost animal ferocity crept into his pale face. "Whenever your father has to be away from home during the night, I take up my position outside this house and watch over you until daylight comes and people begin to come and go." "Very thoughtful of you, my good Leo," she rejoined dryly, "but you need not give yourself the trouble. I am well able to look after myself." "If any man molested you," continued Leopold, speaking very calmly, "I would kill him." "Who should molest me, you silly fool? And anyhow, I won't have you spying upon me like that." "You must not call it spying, Klara. I love to stand outside this house in the peace and darkness of the night, and to think of you quietly sleeping whilst I am keeping watch over you. You wouldn't call a watchdog a spy, would you?" "I know that to-night I shan't sleep a wink," she retorted crossly, "once father has gone. I shall always be thinking of you out there in the dark, watching this house. It will make me nervous." "To-night . . ." he began, and then abruptly checked himself. Once more that quick flash of passion shot through his pale, deep-set eyes. It seemed as if he meant to tell her something, which on second thoughts he decided to keep to himself. Her keen, dark eyes searched his face for a moment or two; she wondered what it was that lurked behind that high, smooth forehead of his and within the depths of that curiously perverted brain. Before she had time, however, to question him, Er s B la made noisy irruption into the room. He was greeted with a storm of cheers. "Hello, B la!" "Not the bridegroom, surely?" "Who would have thought of seeing you here?" While Leopold Hirsch muttered audibly: "What devil's mischief has brought this fellow here to-day, I wonder?" B la seemed in boisterous good-humour--with somewhat ostentatious hilarity he greeted all his friends, and then ordered some of Ign cz Goldstein's best wine for everybody all round. "Bravo, B la!" came from every side, together with loud applause at this unexpected liberality. "It is nice of you not to forget old friends," Klara whispered in his ear, as soon as he succeeded in reaching her side. "Whew!" he ejaculated with a sneer, "you have no idea, my good Klara, how I've been boring myself these past two hours. Those loutish peasants have no idea of enjoyment save their eternal gipsy music and their interminable cs rd s." "For a man of your education, B la," said Klara, with an insinuating smile, "it must be odiously dull. You would far rather have had a game of cards, wouldn't you now?" "I would far rather have had you at that infernal dance, so as to have had somebody to talk to," he retorted savagely. "Oh!" she said demurely, "that would never have done. Elsa must have such a lot to say to you herself. It would not be seemly for me to stand in the way." "Elsa, as you know, has that silly cs rd s on the brain. She has been dancing ever since six o'clock and has only given me about ten minutes of her company. She seems to belong to-night to every young fool that can dance, rather than to me." "Ah well! When you are married you can stop all that, my good B la. You can forbid your wife to dance the cs rd s, you know. I know many men who do it. Then Elsa will learn to appreciate the pleasure of your conversation. Though she is no longer very young, she is still very ignorant. You will have to educate her . . . bring her up to your own level of intelligence and of learning. In the meanwhile, do sit down and drink with those who, like yourself, have come here for an hour or two to break the monotony of perpetual czig ny music and dancing." She busied herself with drawing the corks of a number of bottles, which she then transferred from the end of the room where she stood to the tables at which sat her customers; she also brought out some fresh glasses. B la watched her for a moment or two in silence, unconscious of the fact that he, too, was being watched by a pair of pale eyes in which lurked a gleam of jealousy and of hate. Suddenly, as Klara brushed past him carrying bottles and glasses, he took hold of her by the elbow and drew her close to him. "These louts won't stay late to-night, will they?" he whispered in her ear. "No, not late," she replied; "they will go on to the barn in time for the supper, you may be sure of that. Why do you ask?" "I will have the supper served at ten o'clock," he continued to whisper, "but I'll not sit down to it. Not without you." "Don't be foolish, B la," she retorted. But even as he spoke, a little gleam of satisfaction, of gratified vanity, of anticipatory revenge, shot through her velvety dark eyes. "I warned Elsa," he continued sullenly; "I told her that if you were not at the feast, I should not be there either. She has disobeyed me. I must punish her." "So?" she rejoined, with an acid smile. "It is only in order to punish Elsa that you want to sup with me?" "Don't be stupid, Klara," he retorted. "I'll come at ten o'clock. Will you have some supper ready for me then? I have two or three bottles of French champagne over at my house--I'll bring them along. Will you be ready for me?" "Be silent, B la," she broke in hurriedly. "Can't you see that that fool Leo is watching us all the time?" "Curse, him! What have I got to do with him?" muttered B la savagely. "You will be ready for me, Klara?" "No!" she said decisively. "Better make your peace with Elsa. I'll have none of her leavings. I've had all I wanted out of you to-day--the banquet first and now your coming here. . . . It'll be all over the village presently--and that's all I care about. Have a drink now," she added good-humouredly, "and then go and make your peace with Elsa . . . if you can." She turned abruptly away from him, leaving him to murmur curses under his breath, and went on attending to her customers; nor did he get for the moment another opportunity of speaking with her, for Leopold Hirsch hovered round her for some considerable time after that, and presently, with much noise and pomp and circumstance, no less a personage than the noble young Count himself graced the premises of Ign cz Goldstein the Jew with his august presence. CHAPTER XIX "Now go and fetch the key." He belonged to the ancient family of R kosy, who had owned property on both banks of the Maros for the past eight centuries, and Feri R kosy, the twentieth-century representative of his medi val forbears, was a good-looking young fellow of the type so often met with among the upper classes in Hungary: quite something English in appearance--well set-up, well-dressed, well-groomed from the top of his smooth brown hair to the tips of his immaculately-shod feet--in the eyes an expression of habitual boredom, further accentuated by the slight, affected stoop of the shoulders and a few premature lines round the nose and mouth; and about his whole personality that air of high-breeding and of good, pure blood which is one of the chief characteristics of the true Hungarian aristocracy. He did little more than acknowledge the respectful salutations which greeted him from every corner of the little room as he entered, but he nodded to Er s B la and smiled all over his good-looking face at Klara, who, in her turn, welcomed him with a profusion of smiles which brought a volley of muttered curses to Leopold Hirsch's lips. While he held her one hand rather longer than was necessary she, with the other, took his hat from him, and then, laughing coquettishly, she pointed to a parcel which was causing the pocket of his well-cut Norfolk jacket to bulge immoderately. "Is that something for me?" she asked. "Of course it is," he replied lightly; "I bought it at the fair in Arad for you to-day." "How thoughtful of you!" she said, with a little sigh of pleasure. "Thoughtful?" he retorted, laughing pleasantly. "My good Klara, if I hadn't thought of you I would have died of boredom this afternoon. Here, give me a glass of your father's best wine and I'll tell you." He sat down with easy familiarity on the corner of the table which served as a counter. Klara, after this, had eyes and ears only for him. How could it be otherwise, seeing that it was not often a noble lord graced a village tap-room with his presence. Conversations round the room were now carried on in whispers; tarok cards were produced and here and there a game was in progress. Those who had drunk overmuch made themselves as inconspicuous as they could, drawing themselves closely against the wall, or frankly reclining across the table with arms outstretched and heads buried between them out of sight. An atmosphere of subdued animation and decorum reigned in the place; not a few men, oppressed by their sense of respect for my lord, had effected a quiet exit through the door, preferring the jovial atmosphere of the barn, from whence came, during certain hushed moments, the sounds of music and of laughter. The young man--whose presence caused all this revulsion in the usually noisy atmosphere of the tap-room--took no heed whatever of anything that went on around him: he seemed unconscious alike of the deference of the peasants as of the dark, menacing scowl with which Leopold Hirsch regarded him. He certainly did not bestow a single glance on Er s B la who, at my lord's appearance, had retreated into the very darkest corner of the room. B la did not care to encounter the young Count's sneering remarks just now--and these would of a certainty have been levelled against the bridegroom who was sitting in a tap-room when he should have been in attendance on his bride. But indeed my lord never saw him. To this young scion of a noble race, which had owned land and serfs for centuries past, these peasants here were of no more account than his oxen or his sheep--nor was the owner of a village shop of any more consequence in my lord's eyes. He came here because there was a good-looking Jewess in the tap-room whose conversation amused him, and whose dark, velvety eyes, fringed with long lashes, and mouth with full, red lips, stirred his jaded senses in a more pleasant and more decided way than did the eyes and lips of the demure, well-bred young Countesses and Baronesses who formed his usual social circle. Whether his flirtation with Klara, the Jewess, annoyed the girl's Jew lover or not, did not matter to him one jot; on the contrary the jealousy of that dirty lout Hirsch enhanced his amusement to a considerable extent. Therefore he did not take the trouble to lower his voice now when he talked to Klara, and it was quite openly that he put his arm round her waist while he held his glass to her lips--"To sweeten your father's vinegar!" he said with a laugh. "You know, my pretty Klara," he said gaily, "that I was half afraid I shouldn't see you to-day at all." "No?" she asked coquettishly. "No, by gad! My father was so soft-hearted to allow Er s a day off for his wedding or something, and so, if you please, I had to go to Arad with him, as he had to see about a sale of clover. I thought we should never get back. The roads were abominable." "I hardly expected your lordship," she said demurely. To punish her for that little lie, he tweaked her small ear till it became a bright crimson. "That is to punish you for telling such a lie," he said gaily. "You know that I meant to come and say good-bye." "Your lordship goes to-morrow?" she asked with a sigh. "To shoot bears, my pretty Klara," he replied. "I don't want to go. I would rather stay another week here for you to amuse me, you know." "I am proud . . ." she whispered. "So much do you amuse me that I have brought you a present, just to show you that I thought of you to-day and because I want you not to forget me during the three months that I shall be gone." He drew the parcel out of his pocket and, turning his back to the rest of the room, he cut the string and undid the paper that wrapped it. The contents of the parcel proved to be a morocco case, which flew open at a touch and displayed a gold curb chain bracelet--the dream of Klara Goldstein's desires. "For me?" she said, with a gasp of delight. "For your pretty arm, yes," he replied. "Shall I put it on?" She cast a swift, apprehensive glance round the room over his shoulder. "No, no, not now," she said quickly. "Why not?" "Father mightn't like it. I'd have to ask him." "D----n your father!" "And that fool, Leopold, is so insanely jealous." "D----n him too," said the young man quietly. Whereupon he took the morocco case out of Klara's hand, shut it with a snap and put it back into his pocket. "What are you doing?" cried Klara in a fright. "As you see, pretty one, I am putting the bracelet away for future use." "But . . ." she stammered. "If I can't put the bracelet on your arm myself," he said decisively, "you shan't have it at all." "But . . ." "That is my last word. Let us talk of something else." "No, no! We won't talk of something else. You said the bracelet was for me." She cast a languishing look on him through her long upper lashes; she bared her wrist and held it out to him. Leopold and his jealousy might go hang for aught she cared, for she meant to have the bracelet. The young man, with a fatuous little laugh, brought out the case once more. With his own hands he now fastened the bracelet round Klara Goldstein's wrist. Then--as a matter of course--he kissed her round, brown arm just above the bracelet, and also the red lips through which the words of thanks came quickly tumbling. Klara did not dare to look across the room. She felt, though she did not see, Leopold's pale eyes watching this little scene with a glow in them of ferocious hate and of almost animal rage. "I won't stay now, Klara," said the young Count, dropping his voice suddenly to a whisper; "too many of these louts about. When will you be free?" "Oh, not to-day," she whispered in reply. "After the fair there are sure to be late-comers. And you know Er s B la has a ball on at the barn and supper afterwards. . . ." "The very thing," he broke in, in an eager whisper. "While they are all at supper, I'll come in for a drink and a chat. . . . Ten o'clock, eh?" "Oh, no, no!" she protested feebly. "My father wouldn't like it, he . . ." "D----n your father, my dear, as I remarked before. And, as a matter of fact, your father is not going to be in the way at all. He goes to Kecskem t by the night train." "How do you know that?" "My father told me quite casually that Goldstein was seeing to some business for him at Kecskem t to-morrow. So it was not very difficult to guess that if your father was to be in Kecskem t to-morrow in time to transact business, he would have to travel up by the nine o'clock train this evening in order to get there." Then, as she made no reply, and a blush of pleasure gradually suffused her dark skin, lending it additional charm and giving to her eyes added brilliancy, he continued, more peremptorily this time: "At ten o'clock, then--I'll come back. Get rid of as many of these louts by then as you can." She was only too ready to yield. Not only was she hugely flattered by my lord's attentions, but she found him excessively attractive. He could make himself very agreeable to a woman if he chose, and evidently he chose to do so now. Moreover Klara had found by previous experience that to yield to the young man's varied and varying caprices was always remunerative, and there was that gold watch which he had once vaguely promised her, and which she knew she could get out of him if she had the time and opportunity, as she certainly would have to-night if he came. Count Feri, seeing that she had all but yielded, was preparing to go. Her hand was still in his, and he was pressing her slender fingers in token of a pledge for this evening. "At ten o'clock," he whispered again. "No, no," she protested once more, but this time he must have known that she only did it for form's sake and really meant to let him have his way. "The neighbours would see you enter, and there might be a whole lot of people in the tap-room at that hour: one never knows. They would know by then that my father had gone away and they would talk such scandal about me. My reputation . . ." No doubt he felt inclined to ejaculate in his usual manner: "D----n your reputation!" but he thought better of it, and merely said casually: "I need not come in by the front door, need I?" "The back door is always locked," she remarked ingenuously. "My father invariably locks it himself the last thing at night." "But since he is going to Kecskem t . . ." he suggested. "When he has to be away from home for the night he locks the door from the inside and takes the key away with him." "Surely there is a duplicate key somewhere? . . ." "I don't know," she murmured. "If you don't know, who should?" he remarked, with affected indifference. "Well! I shall have to make myself heard at the back door--that's all!" "How?" "Wouldn't you hear me if I knocked?" "Not if I were in the tap-room and a lot of customers to attend to." "Well, then, I should hammer away until you did hear me." "For that old gossip R zi to hear you," she protested. "Her cottage is not fifty paces away from our back door." "Then it will have to be the front door, after all," he rejoined philosophically. "No, no!--the neighbours--and perhaps the tap-room full of people." "But d----n it, Klara," he exclaimed impatiently, "I have made up my mind to come and spend my last evening with you--and when I have made up my mind to a thing, I am not likely to change it because of a lot of gossiping peasants, because of old R zi, or the whole lot of them. So if you don't want me to come in by the front door, which is open, or to knock at the back door, which is locked, how am I going to get in?" "I don't know." "Well, then, you'll have to find out, my pretty one," he said decisively, "for it has got to be done somehow, or that gold watch we spoke of the other day will have to go to somebody else. And you know when I say a thing I mean it. Eh?" "There is a duplicate key," she whispered shyly, ". . . to the back door, I mean." "I thought there was," he remarked dryly. "Where is it?" "In the next room. . . . It hangs on a nail by father's bedside." "Go and get it, then," he said more impatiently. "Not now," she urged. "Leopold is looking straight at you and me." He shrugged his aristocratic shoulders. "You are not afraid of that monkey?" he said with a laugh. "Well, no! not exactly afraid. But he is so insanely jealous; one never knows what kind of mischief he'll get into. He told me just now that whenever father is away from home he takes his stand outside this house from nightfall till morning--watching!" "A modern Argus--eh?" "A modern lunatic!" she retorted. "Well!" resumed the young man lightly, "lunatic or not, he won't be able to keep an eye on you to-night, even though your father will be away." "How do you mean?" "Hirsch is off to

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ticked off on her long, pointed fingers the last bevy of her admirers on whom she might reasonably count: the son of the chemist over in Arad, the tenant of the Kender Road farm, the proprietor of the station cabs, and there were two or three others; but they were certainly falling away, and she had added no new ones to her list these past six months. Er s B la's formally declared engagement to Kapus Elsa had been a very severe blow. She had really reckoned on B la. He was educated and unconventional, and though he professed the usual anti-Semitic views peculiar to his kind, Klara did not believe that these were very genuine. At any rate, she had reckoned that her fine eyes and provocative ways would tilt successfully against the man's racial prejudices. Er s B la was rich and certainly, up to a point, in love with her. Klara was congratulating herself on the way she was playing her matrimonial cards, when all her hopes were so suddenly dashed to the ground. B la was going to marry that silly, ignorant peasant girl, and she, Klara, would be left to marry Leopold after all. Her anger and humiliation had been very great, and she had battled very persistently and very ably to regain the prize which she had lost. She knew quite well that, but for the fact that she belonged to the alien and despised race, Er s B la would have been only too happy to marry her. His vanity alone had made him choose Kapus Elsa. He wanted the noted beauty for himself, because the noted beauty had been courted by so many people, and where so many people had failed he was proud to succeed. Nor would he have cared to have it said that he had married a Jewess. There is always a certain thought of disgrace attached to such a marriage, whether it has been contracted by peer or peasant, and Er s B la's one dominating idea in life was to keep the respect and deference of his native village. But he had continued his attentions to Klara, and Klara had kept a wonderful hold over his imagination and over his will. She was the one woman who had ever had her will with him--only partially, of course, and not to the extent of forcing him into matrimony--but sufficiently to keep him also dangling round her skirts even though his whole allegiance should have belonged to Elsa. The banquet this afternoon had been a veritable triumph. Whatever she had suffered through B la's final disloyalty to herself, she knew that Kapus Elsa must have suffered all through the banquet. The humiliation of seeing one's bridegroom openly flaunting his admiration for another woman must have been indeed very bitter to bear. Not for a moment did Klara Goldstein doubt that the subsequent scene was an act of vengeance against herself on Elsa's part. She judged other women by her own standard, discounted other women's emotions, thoughts, feelings, by her own. She thought it quite natural that Elsa should wish to be revenged, just as she was quite sure that B la was already meditating some kind of retaliation for the shame which Andor had put upon him and for Elsa's obstinacy and share in the matter. She had not spoken to anyone of the little scene which had occurred between the four walls of the little schoolroom: on the contrary she had spoken loudly of both the bridegroom's and the bride's cordiality to her during the banquet. "Elsa wanted me to go to the dancing this evening," she said casually, "but I thought you would all miss me. I didn't want this place to be dull just because half the village is enjoying itself somewhere else." It had been market day at Arad, and at about five o'clock Klara and her father became very busy. Cattle-dealers and pig-merchants, travellers and pedlars, dropped in for a glass of silvorium and a chat with the good-looking Jewess. More than one bargain, discussed on the marketplace of Arad, was concluded in the stuffy tap-room of Marosfalva. "Shall we be honoured by the young Count's presence later on?" someone asked, with a significant nod to Klara. Everyone laughed in sympathy; the admiration of the noble young Count for Klara Goldstein was well-known. There was nothing in it, of course; even Klara, vain and ambitious as she was, knew that the bridge which divided the aristocrat from one of her kind and of her race was an impassable one. But she liked the young Count's attentions--she liked the presents he brought her from time to time, and relished the notoriety which this flirtation gave her. She also loved to tease poor Leopold Hirsch. Leo had been passionately in love with her for years; what he must have endured in moral and mental torture during that time through his jealousy and often groundless suspicions no one who did not know him intimately could ever have guessed. These tortures which Klara wantonly inflicted upon the wretched young man had been a constant source of amusement to her. Even now she was delighted because, as luck would have it, he entered the tap-room at the very moment when everyone was chaffing her about the young Count. Leopold Hirsch cast a quick, suspicious glance upon the girl, and his dull olive skin assumed an almost greenish hue. He was not of prepossessing appearance; this he knew himself, and the knowledge helped to keep his jealousy and his suspicion aflame. He was short and lean of stature and his head, with its large, bony features, seemed too big for his narrow shoulders to carry. His ginger-coloured hair was lank and scanty; he wore it--after the manner of those of his race in that part of the world--in corkscrew ringlets down each side of his narrow, cadaverous-looking face. His eyes were pale and shifty, but every now and then there shot into them a curious gleam of unbridled passion--love, hate or revenge; and then the whole face would light up and compel attention by the revelation of latent power. This had happened now when a fellow who sat in the corner by the window made some rough jest about the young Count. Leopold made his way to Klara's side; his thin lips were tightly pressed together, and he had buried his hands in the pockets of his ill-fitting trousers. "If that accursed aristocrat comes hanging round here much more, Klara," he muttered between set teeth, "I'll kill him one of these days." "What a fool you are, Leopold!" she said. "Why, yesterday it was Er s B la you objected to." "And I do still," he retorted. "I heard of your conduct at the banquet to-day. It is the talk of the village. One by one these loutish peasants have come into my shop and told me the tale--curse them!--of how the bridegroom had eyes and ears only for you. You seem to forget, Klara," he added, while a thought of menace crept into his voice, "that you are tokened to me now. So don't try and make a fool of me, or . . ." "The Lord bless you, my good man," she retorted, with a laugh, "I won't try, I promise you. I wouldn't like to compete with the Almighty, who has done that for you already." "Klara . . ." he exclaimed. "Oh! be quiet now, Leo," she said impatiently. "Can't you see that my hands are as full as I can manage, without my having to bother about you and your jealous tempers?" She elbowed him aside and went to the counter to serve a customer who had just arrived, and more than a quarter of an hour went by before Leopold had the chance of another word with her. "You might have a kind word for me to-night, Klara," he said ruefully, as soon as a brief lull in business enabled him to approach the girl. "Why specially to-night?" she asked indifferently. "Your father must go by the night train to Kecskem t," he said, with seeming irrelevance. "There is that business about the plums." "The plums?" she asked, with a frown of puzzlement, "what plums?" "The fruit he bought near Kecskem t. They start gathering at sunrise to-morrow. He must be there the first hour, else he'd get shamefully robbed. He must travel by night." "I knew nothing about it," rejoined Klara, with an indifferent shrug of the shoulders. "Father never tells me when he is going to be away from home." "No!" retorted Leopold, with a sneer, "he knows better than to give all your gallants such a brilliant opportunity." "Don't be a fool, Leo!" she reiterated with a laugh. "I don't give any of them an opportunity, either," resumed the young man, while a curious look of almost animal ferocity crept into his pale face. "Whenever your father has to be away from home during the night, I take up my position outside this house and watch over you until daylight comes and people begin to come and go." "Very thoughtful of you, my good Leo," she rejoined dryly, "but you need not give yourself the trouble. I am well able to look after myself." "If any man molested you," continued Leopold, speaking very calmly, "I would kill him." "Who should molest me, you silly fool? And anyhow, I won't have you spying upon me like that." "You must not call it spying, Klara. I love to stand outside this house in the peace and darkness of the night, and to think of you quietly sleeping whilst I am keeping watch over you. You wouldn't call a watchdog a spy, would you?" "I know that to-night I shan't sleep a wink," she retorted crossly, "once father has gone. I shall always be thinking of you out there in the dark, watching this house. It will make me nervous." "To-night . . ." he began, and then abruptly checked himself. Once more that quick flash of passion shot through his pale, deep-set eyes. It seemed as if he meant to tell her something, which on second thoughts he decided to keep to himself. Her keen, dark eyes searched his face for a moment or two; she wondered what it was that lurked behind that high, smooth forehead of his and within the depths of that curiously perverted brain. Before she had time, however, to question him, Er s B la made noisy irruption into the room. He was greeted with a storm of cheers. "Hello, B la!" "Not the bridegroom, surely?" "Who would have thought of seeing you here?" While Leopold Hirsch muttered audibly: "What devil's mischief has brought this fellow here to-day, I wonder?" B la seemed in boisterous good-humour--with somewhat ostentatious hilarity he greeted all his friends, and then ordered some of Ign cz Goldstein's best wine for everybody all round. "Bravo, B la!" came from every side, together with loud applause at this unexpected liberality. "It is nice of you not to forget old friends," Klara whispered in his ear, as soon as he succeeded in reaching her side. "Whew!" he ejaculated with a sneer, "you have no idea, my good Klara, how I've been boring myself these past two hours. Those loutish peasants have no idea of enjoyment save their eternal gipsy music and their interminable cs rd s." "For a man of your education, B la," said Klara, with an insinuating smile, "it must be odiously dull. You would far rather have had a game of cards, wouldn't you now?" "I would far rather have had you at that infernal dance, so as to have had somebody to talk to," he retorted savagely. "Oh!" she said demurely, "that would never have done. Elsa must have such a lot to say to you herself. It would not be seemly for me to stand in the way." "Elsa, as you know, has that silly cs rd s on the brain. She has been dancing ever since six o'clock and has only given me about ten minutes of her company. She seems to belong to-night to every young fool that can dance, rather than to me." "Ah well! When you are married you can stop all that, my good B la. You can forbid your wife to dance the cs rd s, you know. I know many men who do it. Then Elsa will learn to appreciate the pleasure of your conversation. Though she is no longer very young, she is still very ignorant. You will have to educate her . . . bring her up to your own level of intelligence and of learning. In the meanwhile, do sit down and drink with those who, like yourself, have come here for an hour or two to break the monotony of perpetual czig ny music and dancing." She busied herself with drawing the corks of a number of bottles, which she then transferred from the end of the room where she stood to the tables at which sat her customers; she also brought out some fresh glasses. B la watched her for a moment or two in silence, unconscious of the fact that he, too, was being watched by a pair of pale eyes in which lurked a gleam of jealousy and of hate. Suddenly, as Klara brushed past him carrying bottles and glasses, he took hold of her by the elbow and drew her close to him. "These louts won't stay late to-night, will they?" he whispered in her ear. "No, not late," she replied; "they will go on to the barn in time for the supper, you may be sure of that. Why do you ask?" "I will have the supper served at ten o'clock," he continued to whisper, "but I'll not sit down to it. Not without you." "Don't be foolish, B la," she retorted. But even as he spoke, a little gleam of satisfaction, of gratified vanity, of anticipatory revenge, shot through her velvety dark eyes. "I warned Elsa," he continued sullenly; "I told her that if you were not at the feast, I should not be there either. She has disobeyed me. I must punish her." "So?" she rejoined, with an acid smile. "It is only in order to punish Elsa that you want to sup with me?" "Don't be stupid, Klara," he retorted. "I'll come at ten o'clock. Will you have some supper ready for me then? I have two or three bottles of French champagne over at my house--I'll bring them along. Will you be ready for me?" "Be silent, B la," she broke in hurriedly. "Can't you see that that fool Leo is watching us all the time?" "Curse, him! What have I got to do with him?" muttered B la savagely. "You will be ready for me, Klara?" "No!" she said decisively. "Better make your peace with Elsa. I'll have none of her leavings. I've had all I wanted out of you to-day--the banquet first and now your coming here. . . . It'll be all over the village presently--and that's all I care about. Have a drink now," she added good-humouredly, "and then go and make your peace with Elsa . . . if you can." She turned abruptly away from him, leaving him to murmur curses under his breath, and went on attending to her customers; nor did he get for the moment another opportunity of speaking with her, for Leopold Hirsch hovered round her for some considerable time after that, and presently, with much noise and pomp and circumstance, no less a personage than the noble young Count himself graced the premises of Ign cz Goldstein the Jew with his august presence. CHAPTER XIX "Now go and fetch the key." He belonged to the ancient family of R kosy, who had owned property on both banks of the Maros for the past eight centuries, and Feri R kosy, the twentieth-century representative of his medi val forbears, was a good-looking young fellow of the type so often met with among the upper classes in Hungary: quite something English in appearance--well set-up, well-dressed, well-groomed from the top of his smooth brown hair to the tips of his immaculately-shod feet--in the eyes an expression of habitual boredom, further accentuated by the slight, affected stoop of the shoulders and a few premature lines round the nose and mouth; and about his whole personality that air of high-breeding and of good, pure blood which is one of the chief characteristics of the true Hungarian aristocracy. He did little more than acknowledge the respectful salutations which greeted him from every corner of the little room as he entered, but he nodded to Er s B la and smiled all over his good-looking face at Klara, who, in her turn, welcomed him with a profusion of smiles which brought a volley of muttered curses to Leopold Hirsch's lips. While he held her one hand rather longer than was necessary she, with the other, took his hat from him, and then, laughing coquettishly, she pointed to a parcel which was causing the pocket of his well-cut Norfolk jacket to bulge immoderately. "Is that something for me?" she asked. "Of course it is," he replied lightly; "I bought it at the fair in Arad for you to-day." "How thoughtful of you!" she said, with a little sigh of pleasure. "Thoughtful?" he retorted, laughing pleasantly. "My good Klara, if I hadn't thought of you I would have died of boredom this afternoon. Here, give me a glass of your father's best wine and I'll tell you." He sat down with easy familiarity on the corner of the table which served as a counter. Klara, after this, had eyes and ears only for him. How could it be otherwise, seeing that it was not often a noble lord graced a village tap-room with his presence. Conversations round the room were now carried on in whispers; tarok cards were produced and here and there a game was in progress. Those who had drunk overmuch made themselves as inconspicuous as they could, drawing themselves closely against the wall, or frankly reclining across the table with arms outstretched and heads buried between them out of sight. An atmosphere of subdued animation and decorum reigned in the place; not a few men, oppressed by their sense of respect for my lord, had effected a quiet exit through the door, preferring the jovial atmosphere of the barn, from whence came, during certain hushed moments, the sounds of music and of laughter. The young man--whose presence caused all this revulsion in the usually noisy atmosphere of the tap-room--took no heed whatever of anything that went on around him: he seemed unconscious alike of the deference of the peasants as of the dark, menacing scowl with which Leopold Hirsch regarded him. He certainly did not bestow a single glance on Er s B la who, at my lord's appearance, had retreated into the very darkest corner of the room. B la did not care to encounter the young Count's sneering remarks just now--and these would of a certainty have been levelled against the bridegroom who was sitting in a tap-room when he should have been in attendance on his bride. But indeed my lord never saw him. To this young scion of a noble race, which had owned land and serfs for centuries past, these peasants here were of no more account than his oxen or his sheep--nor was the owner of a village shop of any more consequence in my lord's eyes. He came here because there was a good-looking Jewess in the tap-room whose conversation amused him, and whose dark, velvety eyes, fringed with long lashes, and mouth with full, red lips, stirred his jaded senses in a more pleasant and more decided way than did the eyes and lips of the demure, well-bred young Countesses and Baronesses who formed his usual social circle. Whether his flirtation with Klara, the Jewess, annoyed the girl's Jew lover or not, did not matter to him one jot; on the contrary the jealousy of that dirty lout Hirsch enhanced his amusement to a considerable extent. Therefore he did not take the trouble to lower his voice now when he talked to Klara, and it was quite openly that he put his arm round her waist while he held his glass to her lips--"To sweeten your father's vinegar!" he said with a laugh. "You know, my pretty Klara," he said gaily, "that I was half afraid I shouldn't see you to-day at all." "No?" she asked coquettishly. "No, by gad! My father was so soft-hearted to allow Er s a day off for his wedding or something, and so, if you please, I had to go to Arad with him, as he had to see about a sale of clover. I thought we should never get back. The roads were abominable." "I hardly expected your lordship," she said demurely. To punish her for that little lie, he tweaked her small ear till it became a bright crimson. "That is to punish you for telling such a lie," he said gaily. "You know that I meant to come and say good-bye." "Your lordship goes to-morrow?" she asked with a sigh. "To shoot bears, my pretty Klara," he replied. "I don't want to go. I would rather stay another week here for you to amuse me, you know." "I am proud . . ." she whispered. "So much do you amuse me that I have brought you a present, just to show you that I thought of you to-day and because I want you not to forget me during the three months that I shall be gone." He drew the parcel out of his pocket and, turning his back to the rest of the room, he cut the string and undid the paper that wrapped it. The contents of the parcel proved to be a morocco case, which flew open at a touch and displayed a gold curb chain bracelet--the dream of Klara Goldstein's desires. "For me?" she said, with a gasp of delight. "For your pretty arm, yes," he replied. "Shall I put it on?" She cast a swift, apprehensive glance round the room over his shoulder. "No, no, not now," she said quickly. "Why not?" "Father mightn't like it. I'd have to ask him." "D----n your father!" "And that fool, Leopold, is so insanely jealous." "D----n him too," said the young man quietly. Whereupon he took the morocco case out of Klara's hand, shut it with a snap and put it back into his pocket. "What are you doing?" cried Klara in a fright. "As you see, pretty one, I am putting the bracelet away for future use." "But . . ." she stammered. "If I can't put the bracelet on your arm myself," he said decisively, "you shan't have it at all." "But . . ." "That is my last word. Let us talk of something else." "No, no! We won't talk of something else. You said the bracelet was for me." She cast a languishing look on him through her long upper lashes; she bared her wrist and held it out to him. Leopold and his jealousy might go hang for aught she cared, for she meant to have the bracelet. The young man, with a fatuous little laugh, brought out the case once more. With his own hands he now fastened the bracelet round Klara Goldstein's wrist. Then--as a matter of course--he kissed her round, brown arm just above the bracelet, and also the red lips through which the words of thanks came quickly tumbling. Klara did not dare to look across the room. She felt, though she did not see, Leopold's pale eyes watching this little scene with a glow in them of ferocious hate and of almost animal rage. "I won't stay now, Klara," said the young Count, dropping his voice suddenly to a whisper; "too many of these louts about. When will you be free?" "Oh, not to-day," she whispered in reply. "After the fair there are sure to be late-comers. And you know Er s B la has a ball on at the barn and supper afterwards. . . ." "The very thing," he broke in, in an eager whisper. "While they are all at supper, I'll come in for a drink and a chat. . . . Ten o'clock, eh?" "Oh, no, no!" she protested feebly. "My father wouldn't like it, he . . ." "D----n your father, my dear, as I remarked before. And, as a matter of fact, your father is not going to be in the way at all. He goes to Kecskem t by the night train." "How do you know that?" "My father told me quite casually that Goldstein was seeing to some business for him at Kecskem t to-morrow. So it was not very difficult to guess that if your father was to be in Kecskem t to-morrow in time to transact business, he would have to travel up by the nine o'clock train this evening in order to get there." Then, as she made no reply, and a blush of pleasure gradually suffused her dark skin, lending it additional charm and giving to her eyes added brilliancy, he continued, more peremptorily this time: "At ten o'clock, then--I'll come back. Get rid of as many of these louts by then as you can." She was only too ready to yield. Not only was she hugely flattered by my lord's attentions, but she found him excessively attractive. He could make himself very agreeable to a woman if he chose, and evidently he chose to do so now. Moreover Klara had found by previous experience that to yield to the young man's varied and varying caprices was always remunerative, and there was that gold watch which he had once vaguely promised her, and which she knew she could get out of him if she had the time and opportunity, as she certainly would have to-night if he came. Count Feri, seeing that she had all but yielded, was preparing to go. Her hand was still in his, and he was pressing her slender fingers in token of a pledge for this evening. "At ten o'clock," he whispered again. "No, no," she protested once more, but this time he must have known that she only did it for form's sake and really meant to let him have his way. "The neighbours would see you enter, and there might be a whole lot of people in the tap-room at that hour: one never knows. They would know by then that my father had gone away and they would talk such scandal about me. My reputation . . ." No doubt he felt inclined to ejaculate in his usual manner: "D----n your reputation!" but he thought better of it, and merely said casually: "I need not come in by the front door, need I?" "The back door is always locked," she remarked ingenuously. "My father invariably locks it himself the last thing at night." "But since he is going to Kecskem t . . ." he suggested. "When he has to be away from home for the night he locks the door from the inside and takes the key away with him." "Surely there is a duplicate key somewhere? . . ." "I don't know," she murmured. "If you don't know, who should?" he remarked, with affected indifference. "Well! I shall have to make myself heard at the back door--that's all!" "How?" "Wouldn't you hear me if I knocked?" "Not if I were in the tap-room and a lot of customers to attend to." "Well, then, I should hammer away until you did hear me." "For that old gossip R zi to hear you," she protested. "Her cottage is not fifty paces away from our back door." "Then it will have to be the front door, after all," he rejoined philosophically. "No, no!--the neighbours--and perhaps the tap-room full of people." "But d----n it, Klara," he exclaimed impatiently, "I have made up my mind to come and spend my last evening with you--and when I have made up my mind to a thing, I am not likely to change it because of a lot of gossiping peasants, because of old R zi, or the whole lot of them. So if you don't want me to come in by the front door, which is open, or to knock at the back door, which is locked, how am I going to get in?" "I don't know." "Well, then, you'll have to find out, my pretty one," he said decisively, "for it has got to be done somehow, or that gold watch we spoke of the other day will have to go to somebody else. And you know when I say a thing I mean it. Eh?" "There is a duplicate key," she whispered shyly, ". . . to the back door, I mean." "I thought there was," he remarked dryly. "Where is it?" "In the next room. . . . It hangs on a nail by father's bedside." "Go and get it, then," he said more impatiently. "Not now," she urged. "Leopold is looking straight at you and me." He shrugged his aristocratic shoulders. "You are not afraid of that monkey?" he said with a laugh. "Well, no! not exactly afraid. But he is so insanely jealous; one never knows what kind of mischief he'll get into. He told me just now that whenever father is away from home he takes his stand outside this house from nightfall till morning--watching!" "A modern Argus--eh?" "A modern lunatic!" she retorted. "Well!" resumed the young man lightly, "lunatic or not, he won't be able to keep an eye on you to-night, even though your father will be away." "How do you mean?" "Hirsch is off to

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How many times the word 'tip' appears in the text?

ticked off on her long, pointed fingers the last bevy of her admirers on whom she might reasonably count: the son of the chemist over in Arad, the tenant of the Kender Road farm, the proprietor of the station cabs, and there were two or three others; but they were certainly falling away, and she had added no new ones to her list these past six months. Er s B la's formally declared engagement to Kapus Elsa had been a very severe blow. She had really reckoned on B la. He was educated and unconventional, and though he professed the usual anti-Semitic views peculiar to his kind, Klara did not believe that these were very genuine. At any rate, she had reckoned that her fine eyes and provocative ways would tilt successfully against the man's racial prejudices. Er s B la was rich and certainly, up to a point, in love with her. Klara was congratulating herself on the way she was playing her matrimonial cards, when all her hopes were so suddenly dashed to the ground. B la was going to marry that silly, ignorant peasant girl, and she, Klara, would be left to marry Leopold after all. Her anger and humiliation had been very great, and she had battled very persistently and very ably to regain the prize which she had lost. She knew quite well that, but for the fact that she belonged to the alien and despised race, Er s B la would have been only too happy to marry her. His vanity alone had made him choose Kapus Elsa. He wanted the noted beauty for himself, because the noted beauty had been courted by so many people, and where so many people had failed he was proud to succeed. Nor would he have cared to have it said that he had married a Jewess. There is always a certain thought of disgrace attached to such a marriage, whether it has been contracted by peer or peasant, and Er s B la's one dominating idea in life was to keep the respect and deference of his native village. But he had continued his attentions to Klara, and Klara had kept a wonderful hold over his imagination and over his will. She was the one woman who had ever had her will with him--only partially, of course, and not to the extent of forcing him into matrimony--but sufficiently to keep him also dangling round her skirts even though his whole allegiance should have belonged to Elsa. The banquet this afternoon had been a veritable triumph. Whatever she had suffered through B la's final disloyalty to herself, she knew that Kapus Elsa must have suffered all through the banquet. The humiliation of seeing one's bridegroom openly flaunting his admiration for another woman must have been indeed very bitter to bear. Not for a moment did Klara Goldstein doubt that the subsequent scene was an act of vengeance against herself on Elsa's part. She judged other women by her own standard, discounted other women's emotions, thoughts, feelings, by her own. She thought it quite natural that Elsa should wish to be revenged, just as she was quite sure that B la was already meditating some kind of retaliation for the shame which Andor had put upon him and for Elsa's obstinacy and share in the matter. She had not spoken to anyone of the little scene which had occurred between the four walls of the little schoolroom: on the contrary she had spoken loudly of both the bridegroom's and the bride's cordiality to her during the banquet. "Elsa wanted me to go to the dancing this evening," she said casually, "but I thought you would all miss me. I didn't want this place to be dull just because half the village is enjoying itself somewhere else." It had been market day at Arad, and at about five o'clock Klara and her father became very busy. Cattle-dealers and pig-merchants, travellers and pedlars, dropped in for a glass of silvorium and a chat with the good-looking Jewess. More than one bargain, discussed on the marketplace of Arad, was concluded in the stuffy tap-room of Marosfalva. "Shall we be honoured by the young Count's presence later on?" someone asked, with a significant nod to Klara. Everyone laughed in sympathy; the admiration of the noble young Count for Klara Goldstein was well-known. There was nothing in it, of course; even Klara, vain and ambitious as she was, knew that the bridge which divided the aristocrat from one of her kind and of her race was an impassable one. But she liked the young Count's attentions--she liked the presents he brought her from time to time, and relished the notoriety which this flirtation gave her. She also loved to tease poor Leopold Hirsch. Leo had been passionately in love with her for years; what he must have endured in moral and mental torture during that time through his jealousy and often groundless suspicions no one who did not know him intimately could ever have guessed. These tortures which Klara wantonly inflicted upon the wretched young man had been a constant source of amusement to her. Even now she was delighted because, as luck would have it, he entered the tap-room at the very moment when everyone was chaffing her about the young Count. Leopold Hirsch cast a quick, suspicious glance upon the girl, and his dull olive skin assumed an almost greenish hue. He was not of prepossessing appearance; this he knew himself, and the knowledge helped to keep his jealousy and his suspicion aflame. He was short and lean of stature and his head, with its large, bony features, seemed too big for his narrow shoulders to carry. His ginger-coloured hair was lank and scanty; he wore it--after the manner of those of his race in that part of the world--in corkscrew ringlets down each side of his narrow, cadaverous-looking face. His eyes were pale and shifty, but every now and then there shot into them a curious gleam of unbridled passion--love, hate or revenge; and then the whole face would light up and compel attention by the revelation of latent power. This had happened now when a fellow who sat in the corner by the window made some rough jest about the young Count. Leopold made his way to Klara's side; his thin lips were tightly pressed together, and he had buried his hands in the pockets of his ill-fitting trousers. "If that accursed aristocrat comes hanging round here much more, Klara," he muttered between set teeth, "I'll kill him one of these days." "What a fool you are, Leopold!" she said. "Why, yesterday it was Er s B la you objected to." "And I do still," he retorted. "I heard of your conduct at the banquet to-day. It is the talk of the village. One by one these loutish peasants have come into my shop and told me the tale--curse them!--of how the bridegroom had eyes and ears only for you. You seem to forget, Klara," he added, while a thought of menace crept into his voice, "that you are tokened to me now. So don't try and make a fool of me, or . . ." "The Lord bless you, my good man," she retorted, with a laugh, "I won't try, I promise you. I wouldn't like to compete with the Almighty, who has done that for you already." "Klara . . ." he exclaimed. "Oh! be quiet now, Leo," she said impatiently. "Can't you see that my hands are as full as I can manage, without my having to bother about you and your jealous tempers?" She elbowed him aside and went to the counter to serve a customer who had just arrived, and more than a quarter of an hour went by before Leopold had the chance of another word with her. "You might have a kind word for me to-night, Klara," he said ruefully, as soon as a brief lull in business enabled him to approach the girl. "Why specially to-night?" she asked indifferently. "Your father must go by the night train to Kecskem t," he said, with seeming irrelevance. "There is that business about the plums." "The plums?" she asked, with a frown of puzzlement, "what plums?" "The fruit he bought near Kecskem t. They start gathering at sunrise to-morrow. He must be there the first hour, else he'd get shamefully robbed. He must travel by night." "I knew nothing about it," rejoined Klara, with an indifferent shrug of the shoulders. "Father never tells me when he is going to be away from home." "No!" retorted Leopold, with a sneer, "he knows better than to give all your gallants such a brilliant opportunity." "Don't be a fool, Leo!" she reiterated with a laugh. "I don't give any of them an opportunity, either," resumed the young man, while a curious look of almost animal ferocity crept into his pale face. "Whenever your father has to be away from home during the night, I take up my position outside this house and watch over you until daylight comes and people begin to come and go." "Very thoughtful of you, my good Leo," she rejoined dryly, "but you need not give yourself the trouble. I am well able to look after myself." "If any man molested you," continued Leopold, speaking very calmly, "I would kill him." "Who should molest me, you silly fool? And anyhow, I won't have you spying upon me like that." "You must not call it spying, Klara. I love to stand outside this house in the peace and darkness of the night, and to think of you quietly sleeping whilst I am keeping watch over you. You wouldn't call a watchdog a spy, would you?" "I know that to-night I shan't sleep a wink," she retorted crossly, "once father has gone. I shall always be thinking of you out there in the dark, watching this house. It will make me nervous." "To-night . . ." he began, and then abruptly checked himself. Once more that quick flash of passion shot through his pale, deep-set eyes. It seemed as if he meant to tell her something, which on second thoughts he decided to keep to himself. Her keen, dark eyes searched his face for a moment or two; she wondered what it was that lurked behind that high, smooth forehead of his and within the depths of that curiously perverted brain. Before she had time, however, to question him, Er s B la made noisy irruption into the room. He was greeted with a storm of cheers. "Hello, B la!" "Not the bridegroom, surely?" "Who would have thought of seeing you here?" While Leopold Hirsch muttered audibly: "What devil's mischief has brought this fellow here to-day, I wonder?" B la seemed in boisterous good-humour--with somewhat ostentatious hilarity he greeted all his friends, and then ordered some of Ign cz Goldstein's best wine for everybody all round. "Bravo, B la!" came from every side, together with loud applause at this unexpected liberality. "It is nice of you not to forget old friends," Klara whispered in his ear, as soon as he succeeded in reaching her side. "Whew!" he ejaculated with a sneer, "you have no idea, my good Klara, how I've been boring myself these past two hours. Those loutish peasants have no idea of enjoyment save their eternal gipsy music and their interminable cs rd s." "For a man of your education, B la," said Klara, with an insinuating smile, "it must be odiously dull. You would far rather have had a game of cards, wouldn't you now?" "I would far rather have had you at that infernal dance, so as to have had somebody to talk to," he retorted savagely. "Oh!" she said demurely, "that would never have done. Elsa must have such a lot to say to you herself. It would not be seemly for me to stand in the way." "Elsa, as you know, has that silly cs rd s on the brain. She has been dancing ever since six o'clock and has only given me about ten minutes of her company. She seems to belong to-night to every young fool that can dance, rather than to me." "Ah well! When you are married you can stop all that, my good B la. You can forbid your wife to dance the cs rd s, you know. I know many men who do it. Then Elsa will learn to appreciate the pleasure of your conversation. Though she is no longer very young, she is still very ignorant. You will have to educate her . . . bring her up to your own level of intelligence and of learning. In the meanwhile, do sit down and drink with those who, like yourself, have come here for an hour or two to break the monotony of perpetual czig ny music and dancing." She busied herself with drawing the corks of a number of bottles, which she then transferred from the end of the room where she stood to the tables at which sat her customers; she also brought out some fresh glasses. B la watched her for a moment or two in silence, unconscious of the fact that he, too, was being watched by a pair of pale eyes in which lurked a gleam of jealousy and of hate. Suddenly, as Klara brushed past him carrying bottles and glasses, he took hold of her by the elbow and drew her close to him. "These louts won't stay late to-night, will they?" he whispered in her ear. "No, not late," she replied; "they will go on to the barn in time for the supper, you may be sure of that. Why do you ask?" "I will have the supper served at ten o'clock," he continued to whisper, "but I'll not sit down to it. Not without you." "Don't be foolish, B la," she retorted. But even as he spoke, a little gleam of satisfaction, of gratified vanity, of anticipatory revenge, shot through her velvety dark eyes. "I warned Elsa," he continued sullenly; "I told her that if you were not at the feast, I should not be there either. She has disobeyed me. I must punish her." "So?" she rejoined, with an acid smile. "It is only in order to punish Elsa that you want to sup with me?" "Don't be stupid, Klara," he retorted. "I'll come at ten o'clock. Will you have some supper ready for me then? I have two or three bottles of French champagne over at my house--I'll bring them along. Will you be ready for me?" "Be silent, B la," she broke in hurriedly. "Can't you see that that fool Leo is watching us all the time?" "Curse, him! What have I got to do with him?" muttered B la savagely. "You will be ready for me, Klara?" "No!" she said decisively. "Better make your peace with Elsa. I'll have none of her leavings. I've had all I wanted out of you to-day--the banquet first and now your coming here. . . . It'll be all over the village presently--and that's all I care about. Have a drink now," she added good-humouredly, "and then go and make your peace with Elsa . . . if you can." She turned abruptly away from him, leaving him to murmur curses under his breath, and went on attending to her customers; nor did he get for the moment another opportunity of speaking with her, for Leopold Hirsch hovered round her for some considerable time after that, and presently, with much noise and pomp and circumstance, no less a personage than the noble young Count himself graced the premises of Ign cz Goldstein the Jew with his august presence. CHAPTER XIX "Now go and fetch the key." He belonged to the ancient family of R kosy, who had owned property on both banks of the Maros for the past eight centuries, and Feri R kosy, the twentieth-century representative of his medi val forbears, was a good-looking young fellow of the type so often met with among the upper classes in Hungary: quite something English in appearance--well set-up, well-dressed, well-groomed from the top of his smooth brown hair to the tips of his immaculately-shod feet--in the eyes an expression of habitual boredom, further accentuated by the slight, affected stoop of the shoulders and a few premature lines round the nose and mouth; and about his whole personality that air of high-breeding and of good, pure blood which is one of the chief characteristics of the true Hungarian aristocracy. He did little more than acknowledge the respectful salutations which greeted him from every corner of the little room as he entered, but he nodded to Er s B la and smiled all over his good-looking face at Klara, who, in her turn, welcomed him with a profusion of smiles which brought a volley of muttered curses to Leopold Hirsch's lips. While he held her one hand rather longer than was necessary she, with the other, took his hat from him, and then, laughing coquettishly, she pointed to a parcel which was causing the pocket of his well-cut Norfolk jacket to bulge immoderately. "Is that something for me?" she asked. "Of course it is," he replied lightly; "I bought it at the fair in Arad for you to-day." "How thoughtful of you!" she said, with a little sigh of pleasure. "Thoughtful?" he retorted, laughing pleasantly. "My good Klara, if I hadn't thought of you I would have died of boredom this afternoon. Here, give me a glass of your father's best wine and I'll tell you." He sat down with easy familiarity on the corner of the table which served as a counter. Klara, after this, had eyes and ears only for him. How could it be otherwise, seeing that it was not often a noble lord graced a village tap-room with his presence. Conversations round the room were now carried on in whispers; tarok cards were produced and here and there a game was in progress. Those who had drunk overmuch made themselves as inconspicuous as they could, drawing themselves closely against the wall, or frankly reclining across the table with arms outstretched and heads buried between them out of sight. An atmosphere of subdued animation and decorum reigned in the place; not a few men, oppressed by their sense of respect for my lord, had effected a quiet exit through the door, preferring the jovial atmosphere of the barn, from whence came, during certain hushed moments, the sounds of music and of laughter. The young man--whose presence caused all this revulsion in the usually noisy atmosphere of the tap-room--took no heed whatever of anything that went on around him: he seemed unconscious alike of the deference of the peasants as of the dark, menacing scowl with which Leopold Hirsch regarded him. He certainly did not bestow a single glance on Er s B la who, at my lord's appearance, had retreated into the very darkest corner of the room. B la did not care to encounter the young Count's sneering remarks just now--and these would of a certainty have been levelled against the bridegroom who was sitting in a tap-room when he should have been in attendance on his bride. But indeed my lord never saw him. To this young scion of a noble race, which had owned land and serfs for centuries past, these peasants here were of no more account than his oxen or his sheep--nor was the owner of a village shop of any more consequence in my lord's eyes. He came here because there was a good-looking Jewess in the tap-room whose conversation amused him, and whose dark, velvety eyes, fringed with long lashes, and mouth with full, red lips, stirred his jaded senses in a more pleasant and more decided way than did the eyes and lips of the demure, well-bred young Countesses and Baronesses who formed his usual social circle. Whether his flirtation with Klara, the Jewess, annoyed the girl's Jew lover or not, did not matter to him one jot; on the contrary the jealousy of that dirty lout Hirsch enhanced his amusement to a considerable extent. Therefore he did not take the trouble to lower his voice now when he talked to Klara, and it was quite openly that he put his arm round her waist while he held his glass to her lips--"To sweeten your father's vinegar!" he said with a laugh. "You know, my pretty Klara," he said gaily, "that I was half afraid I shouldn't see you to-day at all." "No?" she asked coquettishly. "No, by gad! My father was so soft-hearted to allow Er s a day off for his wedding or something, and so, if you please, I had to go to Arad with him, as he had to see about a sale of clover. I thought we should never get back. The roads were abominable." "I hardly expected your lordship," she said demurely. To punish her for that little lie, he tweaked her small ear till it became a bright crimson. "That is to punish you for telling such a lie," he said gaily. "You know that I meant to come and say good-bye." "Your lordship goes to-morrow?" she asked with a sigh. "To shoot bears, my pretty Klara," he replied. "I don't want to go. I would rather stay another week here for you to amuse me, you know." "I am proud . . ." she whispered. "So much do you amuse me that I have brought you a present, just to show you that I thought of you to-day and because I want you not to forget me during the three months that I shall be gone." He drew the parcel out of his pocket and, turning his back to the rest of the room, he cut the string and undid the paper that wrapped it. The contents of the parcel proved to be a morocco case, which flew open at a touch and displayed a gold curb chain bracelet--the dream of Klara Goldstein's desires. "For me?" she said, with a gasp of delight. "For your pretty arm, yes," he replied. "Shall I put it on?" She cast a swift, apprehensive glance round the room over his shoulder. "No, no, not now," she said quickly. "Why not?" "Father mightn't like it. I'd have to ask him." "D----n your father!" "And that fool, Leopold, is so insanely jealous." "D----n him too," said the young man quietly. Whereupon he took the morocco case out of Klara's hand, shut it with a snap and put it back into his pocket. "What are you doing?" cried Klara in a fright. "As you see, pretty one, I am putting the bracelet away for future use." "But . . ." she stammered. "If I can't put the bracelet on your arm myself," he said decisively, "you shan't have it at all." "But . . ." "That is my last word. Let us talk of something else." "No, no! We won't talk of something else. You said the bracelet was for me." She cast a languishing look on him through her long upper lashes; she bared her wrist and held it out to him. Leopold and his jealousy might go hang for aught she cared, for she meant to have the bracelet. The young man, with a fatuous little laugh, brought out the case once more. With his own hands he now fastened the bracelet round Klara Goldstein's wrist. Then--as a matter of course--he kissed her round, brown arm just above the bracelet, and also the red lips through which the words of thanks came quickly tumbling. Klara did not dare to look across the room. She felt, though she did not see, Leopold's pale eyes watching this little scene with a glow in them of ferocious hate and of almost animal rage. "I won't stay now, Klara," said the young Count, dropping his voice suddenly to a whisper; "too many of these louts about. When will you be free?" "Oh, not to-day," she whispered in reply. "After the fair there are sure to be late-comers. And you know Er s B la has a ball on at the barn and supper afterwards. . . ." "The very thing," he broke in, in an eager whisper. "While they are all at supper, I'll come in for a drink and a chat. . . . Ten o'clock, eh?" "Oh, no, no!" she protested feebly. "My father wouldn't like it, he . . ." "D----n your father, my dear, as I remarked before. And, as a matter of fact, your father is not going to be in the way at all. He goes to Kecskem t by the night train." "How do you know that?" "My father told me quite casually that Goldstein was seeing to some business for him at Kecskem t to-morrow. So it was not very difficult to guess that if your father was to be in Kecskem t to-morrow in time to transact business, he would have to travel up by the nine o'clock train this evening in order to get there." Then, as she made no reply, and a blush of pleasure gradually suffused her dark skin, lending it additional charm and giving to her eyes added brilliancy, he continued, more peremptorily this time: "At ten o'clock, then--I'll come back. Get rid of as many of these louts by then as you can." She was only too ready to yield. Not only was she hugely flattered by my lord's attentions, but she found him excessively attractive. He could make himself very agreeable to a woman if he chose, and evidently he chose to do so now. Moreover Klara had found by previous experience that to yield to the young man's varied and varying caprices was always remunerative, and there was that gold watch which he had once vaguely promised her, and which she knew she could get out of him if she had the time and opportunity, as she certainly would have to-night if he came. Count Feri, seeing that she had all but yielded, was preparing to go. Her hand was still in his, and he was pressing her slender fingers in token of a pledge for this evening. "At ten o'clock," he whispered again. "No, no," she protested once more, but this time he must have known that she only did it for form's sake and really meant to let him have his way. "The neighbours would see you enter, and there might be a whole lot of people in the tap-room at that hour: one never knows. They would know by then that my father had gone away and they would talk such scandal about me. My reputation . . ." No doubt he felt inclined to ejaculate in his usual manner: "D----n your reputation!" but he thought better of it, and merely said casually: "I need not come in by the front door, need I?" "The back door is always locked," she remarked ingenuously. "My father invariably locks it himself the last thing at night." "But since he is going to Kecskem t . . ." he suggested. "When he has to be away from home for the night he locks the door from the inside and takes the key away with him." "Surely there is a duplicate key somewhere? . . ." "I don't know," she murmured. "If you don't know, who should?" he remarked, with affected indifference. "Well! I shall have to make myself heard at the back door--that's all!" "How?" "Wouldn't you hear me if I knocked?" "Not if I were in the tap-room and a lot of customers to attend to." "Well, then, I should hammer away until you did hear me." "For that old gossip R zi to hear you," she protested. "Her cottage is not fifty paces away from our back door." "Then it will have to be the front door, after all," he rejoined philosophically. "No, no!--the neighbours--and perhaps the tap-room full of people." "But d----n it, Klara," he exclaimed impatiently, "I have made up my mind to come and spend my last evening with you--and when I have made up my mind to a thing, I am not likely to change it because of a lot of gossiping peasants, because of old R zi, or the whole lot of them. So if you don't want me to come in by the front door, which is open, or to knock at the back door, which is locked, how am I going to get in?" "I don't know." "Well, then, you'll have to find out, my pretty one," he said decisively, "for it has got to be done somehow, or that gold watch we spoke of the other day will have to go to somebody else. And you know when I say a thing I mean it. Eh?" "There is a duplicate key," she whispered shyly, ". . . to the back door, I mean." "I thought there was," he remarked dryly. "Where is it?" "In the next room. . . . It hangs on a nail by father's bedside." "Go and get it, then," he said more impatiently. "Not now," she urged. "Leopold is looking straight at you and me." He shrugged his aristocratic shoulders. "You are not afraid of that monkey?" he said with a laugh. "Well, no! not exactly afraid. But he is so insanely jealous; one never knows what kind of mischief he'll get into. He told me just now that whenever father is away from home he takes his stand outside this house from nightfall till morning--watching!" "A modern Argus--eh?" "A modern lunatic!" she retorted. "Well!" resumed the young man lightly, "lunatic or not, he won't be able to keep an eye on you to-night, even though your father will be away." "How do you mean?" "Hirsch is off to

furor

How many times the word 'furor' appears in the text?

ticked off on her long, pointed fingers the last bevy of her admirers on whom she might reasonably count: the son of the chemist over in Arad, the tenant of the Kender Road farm, the proprietor of the station cabs, and there were two or three others; but they were certainly falling away, and she had added no new ones to her list these past six months. Er s B la's formally declared engagement to Kapus Elsa had been a very severe blow. She had really reckoned on B la. He was educated and unconventional, and though he professed the usual anti-Semitic views peculiar to his kind, Klara did not believe that these were very genuine. At any rate, she had reckoned that her fine eyes and provocative ways would tilt successfully against the man's racial prejudices. Er s B la was rich and certainly, up to a point, in love with her. Klara was congratulating herself on the way she was playing her matrimonial cards, when all her hopes were so suddenly dashed to the ground. B la was going to marry that silly, ignorant peasant girl, and she, Klara, would be left to marry Leopold after all. Her anger and humiliation had been very great, and she had battled very persistently and very ably to regain the prize which she had lost. She knew quite well that, but for the fact that she belonged to the alien and despised race, Er s B la would have been only too happy to marry her. His vanity alone had made him choose Kapus Elsa. He wanted the noted beauty for himself, because the noted beauty had been courted by so many people, and where so many people had failed he was proud to succeed. Nor would he have cared to have it said that he had married a Jewess. There is always a certain thought of disgrace attached to such a marriage, whether it has been contracted by peer or peasant, and Er s B la's one dominating idea in life was to keep the respect and deference of his native village. But he had continued his attentions to Klara, and Klara had kept a wonderful hold over his imagination and over his will. She was the one woman who had ever had her will with him--only partially, of course, and not to the extent of forcing him into matrimony--but sufficiently to keep him also dangling round her skirts even though his whole allegiance should have belonged to Elsa. The banquet this afternoon had been a veritable triumph. Whatever she had suffered through B la's final disloyalty to herself, she knew that Kapus Elsa must have suffered all through the banquet. The humiliation of seeing one's bridegroom openly flaunting his admiration for another woman must have been indeed very bitter to bear. Not for a moment did Klara Goldstein doubt that the subsequent scene was an act of vengeance against herself on Elsa's part. She judged other women by her own standard, discounted other women's emotions, thoughts, feelings, by her own. She thought it quite natural that Elsa should wish to be revenged, just as she was quite sure that B la was already meditating some kind of retaliation for the shame which Andor had put upon him and for Elsa's obstinacy and share in the matter. She had not spoken to anyone of the little scene which had occurred between the four walls of the little schoolroom: on the contrary she had spoken loudly of both the bridegroom's and the bride's cordiality to her during the banquet. "Elsa wanted me to go to the dancing this evening," she said casually, "but I thought you would all miss me. I didn't want this place to be dull just because half the village is enjoying itself somewhere else." It had been market day at Arad, and at about five o'clock Klara and her father became very busy. Cattle-dealers and pig-merchants, travellers and pedlars, dropped in for a glass of silvorium and a chat with the good-looking Jewess. More than one bargain, discussed on the marketplace of Arad, was concluded in the stuffy tap-room of Marosfalva. "Shall we be honoured by the young Count's presence later on?" someone asked, with a significant nod to Klara. Everyone laughed in sympathy; the admiration of the noble young Count for Klara Goldstein was well-known. There was nothing in it, of course; even Klara, vain and ambitious as she was, knew that the bridge which divided the aristocrat from one of her kind and of her race was an impassable one. But she liked the young Count's attentions--she liked the presents he brought her from time to time, and relished the notoriety which this flirtation gave her. She also loved to tease poor Leopold Hirsch. Leo had been passionately in love with her for years; what he must have endured in moral and mental torture during that time through his jealousy and often groundless suspicions no one who did not know him intimately could ever have guessed. These tortures which Klara wantonly inflicted upon the wretched young man had been a constant source of amusement to her. Even now she was delighted because, as luck would have it, he entered the tap-room at the very moment when everyone was chaffing her about the young Count. Leopold Hirsch cast a quick, suspicious glance upon the girl, and his dull olive skin assumed an almost greenish hue. He was not of prepossessing appearance; this he knew himself, and the knowledge helped to keep his jealousy and his suspicion aflame. He was short and lean of stature and his head, with its large, bony features, seemed too big for his narrow shoulders to carry. His ginger-coloured hair was lank and scanty; he wore it--after the manner of those of his race in that part of the world--in corkscrew ringlets down each side of his narrow, cadaverous-looking face. His eyes were pale and shifty, but every now and then there shot into them a curious gleam of unbridled passion--love, hate or revenge; and then the whole face would light up and compel attention by the revelation of latent power. This had happened now when a fellow who sat in the corner by the window made some rough jest about the young Count. Leopold made his way to Klara's side; his thin lips were tightly pressed together, and he had buried his hands in the pockets of his ill-fitting trousers. "If that accursed aristocrat comes hanging round here much more, Klara," he muttered between set teeth, "I'll kill him one of these days." "What a fool you are, Leopold!" she said. "Why, yesterday it was Er s B la you objected to." "And I do still," he retorted. "I heard of your conduct at the banquet to-day. It is the talk of the village. One by one these loutish peasants have come into my shop and told me the tale--curse them!--of how the bridegroom had eyes and ears only for you. You seem to forget, Klara," he added, while a thought of menace crept into his voice, "that you are tokened to me now. So don't try and make a fool of me, or . . ." "The Lord bless you, my good man," she retorted, with a laugh, "I won't try, I promise you. I wouldn't like to compete with the Almighty, who has done that for you already." "Klara . . ." he exclaimed. "Oh! be quiet now, Leo," she said impatiently. "Can't you see that my hands are as full as I can manage, without my having to bother about you and your jealous tempers?" She elbowed him aside and went to the counter to serve a customer who had just arrived, and more than a quarter of an hour went by before Leopold had the chance of another word with her. "You might have a kind word for me to-night, Klara," he said ruefully, as soon as a brief lull in business enabled him to approach the girl. "Why specially to-night?" she asked indifferently. "Your father must go by the night train to Kecskem t," he said, with seeming irrelevance. "There is that business about the plums." "The plums?" she asked, with a frown of puzzlement, "what plums?" "The fruit he bought near Kecskem t. They start gathering at sunrise to-morrow. He must be there the first hour, else he'd get shamefully robbed. He must travel by night." "I knew nothing about it," rejoined Klara, with an indifferent shrug of the shoulders. "Father never tells me when he is going to be away from home." "No!" retorted Leopold, with a sneer, "he knows better than to give all your gallants such a brilliant opportunity." "Don't be a fool, Leo!" she reiterated with a laugh. "I don't give any of them an opportunity, either," resumed the young man, while a curious look of almost animal ferocity crept into his pale face. "Whenever your father has to be away from home during the night, I take up my position outside this house and watch over you until daylight comes and people begin to come and go." "Very thoughtful of you, my good Leo," she rejoined dryly, "but you need not give yourself the trouble. I am well able to look after myself." "If any man molested you," continued Leopold, speaking very calmly, "I would kill him." "Who should molest me, you silly fool? And anyhow, I won't have you spying upon me like that." "You must not call it spying, Klara. I love to stand outside this house in the peace and darkness of the night, and to think of you quietly sleeping whilst I am keeping watch over you. You wouldn't call a watchdog a spy, would you?" "I know that to-night I shan't sleep a wink," she retorted crossly, "once father has gone. I shall always be thinking of you out there in the dark, watching this house. It will make me nervous." "To-night . . ." he began, and then abruptly checked himself. Once more that quick flash of passion shot through his pale, deep-set eyes. It seemed as if he meant to tell her something, which on second thoughts he decided to keep to himself. Her keen, dark eyes searched his face for a moment or two; she wondered what it was that lurked behind that high, smooth forehead of his and within the depths of that curiously perverted brain. Before she had time, however, to question him, Er s B la made noisy irruption into the room. He was greeted with a storm of cheers. "Hello, B la!" "Not the bridegroom, surely?" "Who would have thought of seeing you here?" While Leopold Hirsch muttered audibly: "What devil's mischief has brought this fellow here to-day, I wonder?" B la seemed in boisterous good-humour--with somewhat ostentatious hilarity he greeted all his friends, and then ordered some of Ign cz Goldstein's best wine for everybody all round. "Bravo, B la!" came from every side, together with loud applause at this unexpected liberality. "It is nice of you not to forget old friends," Klara whispered in his ear, as soon as he succeeded in reaching her side. "Whew!" he ejaculated with a sneer, "you have no idea, my good Klara, how I've been boring myself these past two hours. Those loutish peasants have no idea of enjoyment save their eternal gipsy music and their interminable cs rd s." "For a man of your education, B la," said Klara, with an insinuating smile, "it must be odiously dull. You would far rather have had a game of cards, wouldn't you now?" "I would far rather have had you at that infernal dance, so as to have had somebody to talk to," he retorted savagely. "Oh!" she said demurely, "that would never have done. Elsa must have such a lot to say to you herself. It would not be seemly for me to stand in the way." "Elsa, as you know, has that silly cs rd s on the brain. She has been dancing ever since six o'clock and has only given me about ten minutes of her company. She seems to belong to-night to every young fool that can dance, rather than to me." "Ah well! When you are married you can stop all that, my good B la. You can forbid your wife to dance the cs rd s, you know. I know many men who do it. Then Elsa will learn to appreciate the pleasure of your conversation. Though she is no longer very young, she is still very ignorant. You will have to educate her . . . bring her up to your own level of intelligence and of learning. In the meanwhile, do sit down and drink with those who, like yourself, have come here for an hour or two to break the monotony of perpetual czig ny music and dancing." She busied herself with drawing the corks of a number of bottles, which she then transferred from the end of the room where she stood to the tables at which sat her customers; she also brought out some fresh glasses. B la watched her for a moment or two in silence, unconscious of the fact that he, too, was being watched by a pair of pale eyes in which lurked a gleam of jealousy and of hate. Suddenly, as Klara brushed past him carrying bottles and glasses, he took hold of her by the elbow and drew her close to him. "These louts won't stay late to-night, will they?" he whispered in her ear. "No, not late," she replied; "they will go on to the barn in time for the supper, you may be sure of that. Why do you ask?" "I will have the supper served at ten o'clock," he continued to whisper, "but I'll not sit down to it. Not without you." "Don't be foolish, B la," she retorted. But even as he spoke, a little gleam of satisfaction, of gratified vanity, of anticipatory revenge, shot through her velvety dark eyes. "I warned Elsa," he continued sullenly; "I told her that if you were not at the feast, I should not be there either. She has disobeyed me. I must punish her." "So?" she rejoined, with an acid smile. "It is only in order to punish Elsa that you want to sup with me?" "Don't be stupid, Klara," he retorted. "I'll come at ten o'clock. Will you have some supper ready for me then? I have two or three bottles of French champagne over at my house--I'll bring them along. Will you be ready for me?" "Be silent, B la," she broke in hurriedly. "Can't you see that that fool Leo is watching us all the time?" "Curse, him! What have I got to do with him?" muttered B la savagely. "You will be ready for me, Klara?" "No!" she said decisively. "Better make your peace with Elsa. I'll have none of her leavings. I've had all I wanted out of you to-day--the banquet first and now your coming here. . . . It'll be all over the village presently--and that's all I care about. Have a drink now," she added good-humouredly, "and then go and make your peace with Elsa . . . if you can." She turned abruptly away from him, leaving him to murmur curses under his breath, and went on attending to her customers; nor did he get for the moment another opportunity of speaking with her, for Leopold Hirsch hovered round her for some considerable time after that, and presently, with much noise and pomp and circumstance, no less a personage than the noble young Count himself graced the premises of Ign cz Goldstein the Jew with his august presence. CHAPTER XIX "Now go and fetch the key." He belonged to the ancient family of R kosy, who had owned property on both banks of the Maros for the past eight centuries, and Feri R kosy, the twentieth-century representative of his medi val forbears, was a good-looking young fellow of the type so often met with among the upper classes in Hungary: quite something English in appearance--well set-up, well-dressed, well-groomed from the top of his smooth brown hair to the tips of his immaculately-shod feet--in the eyes an expression of habitual boredom, further accentuated by the slight, affected stoop of the shoulders and a few premature lines round the nose and mouth; and about his whole personality that air of high-breeding and of good, pure blood which is one of the chief characteristics of the true Hungarian aristocracy. He did little more than acknowledge the respectful salutations which greeted him from every corner of the little room as he entered, but he nodded to Er s B la and smiled all over his good-looking face at Klara, who, in her turn, welcomed him with a profusion of smiles which brought a volley of muttered curses to Leopold Hirsch's lips. While he held her one hand rather longer than was necessary she, with the other, took his hat from him, and then, laughing coquettishly, she pointed to a parcel which was causing the pocket of his well-cut Norfolk jacket to bulge immoderately. "Is that something for me?" she asked. "Of course it is," he replied lightly; "I bought it at the fair in Arad for you to-day." "How thoughtful of you!" she said, with a little sigh of pleasure. "Thoughtful?" he retorted, laughing pleasantly. "My good Klara, if I hadn't thought of you I would have died of boredom this afternoon. Here, give me a glass of your father's best wine and I'll tell you." He sat down with easy familiarity on the corner of the table which served as a counter. Klara, after this, had eyes and ears only for him. How could it be otherwise, seeing that it was not often a noble lord graced a village tap-room with his presence. Conversations round the room were now carried on in whispers; tarok cards were produced and here and there a game was in progress. Those who had drunk overmuch made themselves as inconspicuous as they could, drawing themselves closely against the wall, or frankly reclining across the table with arms outstretched and heads buried between them out of sight. An atmosphere of subdued animation and decorum reigned in the place; not a few men, oppressed by their sense of respect for my lord, had effected a quiet exit through the door, preferring the jovial atmosphere of the barn, from whence came, during certain hushed moments, the sounds of music and of laughter. The young man--whose presence caused all this revulsion in the usually noisy atmosphere of the tap-room--took no heed whatever of anything that went on around him: he seemed unconscious alike of the deference of the peasants as of the dark, menacing scowl with which Leopold Hirsch regarded him. He certainly did not bestow a single glance on Er s B la who, at my lord's appearance, had retreated into the very darkest corner of the room. B la did not care to encounter the young Count's sneering remarks just now--and these would of a certainty have been levelled against the bridegroom who was sitting in a tap-room when he should have been in attendance on his bride. But indeed my lord never saw him. To this young scion of a noble race, which had owned land and serfs for centuries past, these peasants here were of no more account than his oxen or his sheep--nor was the owner of a village shop of any more consequence in my lord's eyes. He came here because there was a good-looking Jewess in the tap-room whose conversation amused him, and whose dark, velvety eyes, fringed with long lashes, and mouth with full, red lips, stirred his jaded senses in a more pleasant and more decided way than did the eyes and lips of the demure, well-bred young Countesses and Baronesses who formed his usual social circle. Whether his flirtation with Klara, the Jewess, annoyed the girl's Jew lover or not, did not matter to him one jot; on the contrary the jealousy of that dirty lout Hirsch enhanced his amusement to a considerable extent. Therefore he did not take the trouble to lower his voice now when he talked to Klara, and it was quite openly that he put his arm round her waist while he held his glass to her lips--"To sweeten your father's vinegar!" he said with a laugh. "You know, my pretty Klara," he said gaily, "that I was half afraid I shouldn't see you to-day at all." "No?" she asked coquettishly. "No, by gad! My father was so soft-hearted to allow Er s a day off for his wedding or something, and so, if you please, I had to go to Arad with him, as he had to see about a sale of clover. I thought we should never get back. The roads were abominable." "I hardly expected your lordship," she said demurely. To punish her for that little lie, he tweaked her small ear till it became a bright crimson. "That is to punish you for telling such a lie," he said gaily. "You know that I meant to come and say good-bye." "Your lordship goes to-morrow?" she asked with a sigh. "To shoot bears, my pretty Klara," he replied. "I don't want to go. I would rather stay another week here for you to amuse me, you know." "I am proud . . ." she whispered. "So much do you amuse me that I have brought you a present, just to show you that I thought of you to-day and because I want you not to forget me during the three months that I shall be gone." He drew the parcel out of his pocket and, turning his back to the rest of the room, he cut the string and undid the paper that wrapped it. The contents of the parcel proved to be a morocco case, which flew open at a touch and displayed a gold curb chain bracelet--the dream of Klara Goldstein's desires. "For me?" she said, with a gasp of delight. "For your pretty arm, yes," he replied. "Shall I put it on?" She cast a swift, apprehensive glance round the room over his shoulder. "No, no, not now," she said quickly. "Why not?" "Father mightn't like it. I'd have to ask him." "D----n your father!" "And that fool, Leopold, is so insanely jealous." "D----n him too," said the young man quietly. Whereupon he took the morocco case out of Klara's hand, shut it with a snap and put it back into his pocket. "What are you doing?" cried Klara in a fright. "As you see, pretty one, I am putting the bracelet away for future use." "But . . ." she stammered. "If I can't put the bracelet on your arm myself," he said decisively, "you shan't have it at all." "But . . ." "That is my last word. Let us talk of something else." "No, no! We won't talk of something else. You said the bracelet was for me." She cast a languishing look on him through her long upper lashes; she bared her wrist and held it out to him. Leopold and his jealousy might go hang for aught she cared, for she meant to have the bracelet. The young man, with a fatuous little laugh, brought out the case once more. With his own hands he now fastened the bracelet round Klara Goldstein's wrist. Then--as a matter of course--he kissed her round, brown arm just above the bracelet, and also the red lips through which the words of thanks came quickly tumbling. Klara did not dare to look across the room. She felt, though she did not see, Leopold's pale eyes watching this little scene with a glow in them of ferocious hate and of almost animal rage. "I won't stay now, Klara," said the young Count, dropping his voice suddenly to a whisper; "too many of these louts about. When will you be free?" "Oh, not to-day," she whispered in reply. "After the fair there are sure to be late-comers. And you know Er s B la has a ball on at the barn and supper afterwards. . . ." "The very thing," he broke in, in an eager whisper. "While they are all at supper, I'll come in for a drink and a chat. . . . Ten o'clock, eh?" "Oh, no, no!" she protested feebly. "My father wouldn't like it, he . . ." "D----n your father, my dear, as I remarked before. And, as a matter of fact, your father is not going to be in the way at all. He goes to Kecskem t by the night train." "How do you know that?" "My father told me quite casually that Goldstein was seeing to some business for him at Kecskem t to-morrow. So it was not very difficult to guess that if your father was to be in Kecskem t to-morrow in time to transact business, he would have to travel up by the nine o'clock train this evening in order to get there." Then, as she made no reply, and a blush of pleasure gradually suffused her dark skin, lending it additional charm and giving to her eyes added brilliancy, he continued, more peremptorily this time: "At ten o'clock, then--I'll come back. Get rid of as many of these louts by then as you can." She was only too ready to yield. Not only was she hugely flattered by my lord's attentions, but she found him excessively attractive. He could make himself very agreeable to a woman if he chose, and evidently he chose to do so now. Moreover Klara had found by previous experience that to yield to the young man's varied and varying caprices was always remunerative, and there was that gold watch which he had once vaguely promised her, and which she knew she could get out of him if she had the time and opportunity, as she certainly would have to-night if he came. Count Feri, seeing that she had all but yielded, was preparing to go. Her hand was still in his, and he was pressing her slender fingers in token of a pledge for this evening. "At ten o'clock," he whispered again. "No, no," she protested once more, but this time he must have known that she only did it for form's sake and really meant to let him have his way. "The neighbours would see you enter, and there might be a whole lot of people in the tap-room at that hour: one never knows. They would know by then that my father had gone away and they would talk such scandal about me. My reputation . . ." No doubt he felt inclined to ejaculate in his usual manner: "D----n your reputation!" but he thought better of it, and merely said casually: "I need not come in by the front door, need I?" "The back door is always locked," she remarked ingenuously. "My father invariably locks it himself the last thing at night." "But since he is going to Kecskem t . . ." he suggested. "When he has to be away from home for the night he locks the door from the inside and takes the key away with him." "Surely there is a duplicate key somewhere? . . ." "I don't know," she murmured. "If you don't know, who should?" he remarked, with affected indifference. "Well! I shall have to make myself heard at the back door--that's all!" "How?" "Wouldn't you hear me if I knocked?" "Not if I were in the tap-room and a lot of customers to attend to." "Well, then, I should hammer away until you did hear me." "For that old gossip R zi to hear you," she protested. "Her cottage is not fifty paces away from our back door." "Then it will have to be the front door, after all," he rejoined philosophically. "No, no!--the neighbours--and perhaps the tap-room full of people." "But d----n it, Klara," he exclaimed impatiently, "I have made up my mind to come and spend my last evening with you--and when I have made up my mind to a thing, I am not likely to change it because of a lot of gossiping peasants, because of old R zi, or the whole lot of them. So if you don't want me to come in by the front door, which is open, or to knock at the back door, which is locked, how am I going to get in?" "I don't know." "Well, then, you'll have to find out, my pretty one," he said decisively, "for it has got to be done somehow, or that gold watch we spoke of the other day will have to go to somebody else. And you know when I say a thing I mean it. Eh?" "There is a duplicate key," she whispered shyly, ". . . to the back door, I mean." "I thought there was," he remarked dryly. "Where is it?" "In the next room. . . . It hangs on a nail by father's bedside." "Go and get it, then," he said more impatiently. "Not now," she urged. "Leopold is looking straight at you and me." He shrugged his aristocratic shoulders. "You are not afraid of that monkey?" he said with a laugh. "Well, no! not exactly afraid. But he is so insanely jealous; one never knows what kind of mischief he'll get into. He told me just now that whenever father is away from home he takes his stand outside this house from nightfall till morning--watching!" "A modern Argus--eh?" "A modern lunatic!" she retorted. "Well!" resumed the young man lightly, "lunatic or not, he won't be able to keep an eye on you to-night, even though your father will be away." "How do you mean?" "Hirsch is off to

house

How many times the word 'house' appears in the text?

ticked off on her long, pointed fingers the last bevy of her admirers on whom she might reasonably count: the son of the chemist over in Arad, the tenant of the Kender Road farm, the proprietor of the station cabs, and there were two or three others; but they were certainly falling away, and she had added no new ones to her list these past six months. Er s B la's formally declared engagement to Kapus Elsa had been a very severe blow. She had really reckoned on B la. He was educated and unconventional, and though he professed the usual anti-Semitic views peculiar to his kind, Klara did not believe that these were very genuine. At any rate, she had reckoned that her fine eyes and provocative ways would tilt successfully against the man's racial prejudices. Er s B la was rich and certainly, up to a point, in love with her. Klara was congratulating herself on the way she was playing her matrimonial cards, when all her hopes were so suddenly dashed to the ground. B la was going to marry that silly, ignorant peasant girl, and she, Klara, would be left to marry Leopold after all. Her anger and humiliation had been very great, and she had battled very persistently and very ably to regain the prize which she had lost. She knew quite well that, but for the fact that she belonged to the alien and despised race, Er s B la would have been only too happy to marry her. His vanity alone had made him choose Kapus Elsa. He wanted the noted beauty for himself, because the noted beauty had been courted by so many people, and where so many people had failed he was proud to succeed. Nor would he have cared to have it said that he had married a Jewess. There is always a certain thought of disgrace attached to such a marriage, whether it has been contracted by peer or peasant, and Er s B la's one dominating idea in life was to keep the respect and deference of his native village. But he had continued his attentions to Klara, and Klara had kept a wonderful hold over his imagination and over his will. She was the one woman who had ever had her will with him--only partially, of course, and not to the extent of forcing him into matrimony--but sufficiently to keep him also dangling round her skirts even though his whole allegiance should have belonged to Elsa. The banquet this afternoon had been a veritable triumph. Whatever she had suffered through B la's final disloyalty to herself, she knew that Kapus Elsa must have suffered all through the banquet. The humiliation of seeing one's bridegroom openly flaunting his admiration for another woman must have been indeed very bitter to bear. Not for a moment did Klara Goldstein doubt that the subsequent scene was an act of vengeance against herself on Elsa's part. She judged other women by her own standard, discounted other women's emotions, thoughts, feelings, by her own. She thought it quite natural that Elsa should wish to be revenged, just as she was quite sure that B la was already meditating some kind of retaliation for the shame which Andor had put upon him and for Elsa's obstinacy and share in the matter. She had not spoken to anyone of the little scene which had occurred between the four walls of the little schoolroom: on the contrary she had spoken loudly of both the bridegroom's and the bride's cordiality to her during the banquet. "Elsa wanted me to go to the dancing this evening," she said casually, "but I thought you would all miss me. I didn't want this place to be dull just because half the village is enjoying itself somewhere else." It had been market day at Arad, and at about five o'clock Klara and her father became very busy. Cattle-dealers and pig-merchants, travellers and pedlars, dropped in for a glass of silvorium and a chat with the good-looking Jewess. More than one bargain, discussed on the marketplace of Arad, was concluded in the stuffy tap-room of Marosfalva. "Shall we be honoured by the young Count's presence later on?" someone asked, with a significant nod to Klara. Everyone laughed in sympathy; the admiration of the noble young Count for Klara Goldstein was well-known. There was nothing in it, of course; even Klara, vain and ambitious as she was, knew that the bridge which divided the aristocrat from one of her kind and of her race was an impassable one. But she liked the young Count's attentions--she liked the presents he brought her from time to time, and relished the notoriety which this flirtation gave her. She also loved to tease poor Leopold Hirsch. Leo had been passionately in love with her for years; what he must have endured in moral and mental torture during that time through his jealousy and often groundless suspicions no one who did not know him intimately could ever have guessed. These tortures which Klara wantonly inflicted upon the wretched young man had been a constant source of amusement to her. Even now she was delighted because, as luck would have it, he entered the tap-room at the very moment when everyone was chaffing her about the young Count. Leopold Hirsch cast a quick, suspicious glance upon the girl, and his dull olive skin assumed an almost greenish hue. He was not of prepossessing appearance; this he knew himself, and the knowledge helped to keep his jealousy and his suspicion aflame. He was short and lean of stature and his head, with its large, bony features, seemed too big for his narrow shoulders to carry. His ginger-coloured hair was lank and scanty; he wore it--after the manner of those of his race in that part of the world--in corkscrew ringlets down each side of his narrow, cadaverous-looking face. His eyes were pale and shifty, but every now and then there shot into them a curious gleam of unbridled passion--love, hate or revenge; and then the whole face would light up and compel attention by the revelation of latent power. This had happened now when a fellow who sat in the corner by the window made some rough jest about the young Count. Leopold made his way to Klara's side; his thin lips were tightly pressed together, and he had buried his hands in the pockets of his ill-fitting trousers. "If that accursed aristocrat comes hanging round here much more, Klara," he muttered between set teeth, "I'll kill him one of these days." "What a fool you are, Leopold!" she said. "Why, yesterday it was Er s B la you objected to." "And I do still," he retorted. "I heard of your conduct at the banquet to-day. It is the talk of the village. One by one these loutish peasants have come into my shop and told me the tale--curse them!--of how the bridegroom had eyes and ears only for you. You seem to forget, Klara," he added, while a thought of menace crept into his voice, "that you are tokened to me now. So don't try and make a fool of me, or . . ." "The Lord bless you, my good man," she retorted, with a laugh, "I won't try, I promise you. I wouldn't like to compete with the Almighty, who has done that for you already." "Klara . . ." he exclaimed. "Oh! be quiet now, Leo," she said impatiently. "Can't you see that my hands are as full as I can manage, without my having to bother about you and your jealous tempers?" She elbowed him aside and went to the counter to serve a customer who had just arrived, and more than a quarter of an hour went by before Leopold had the chance of another word with her. "You might have a kind word for me to-night, Klara," he said ruefully, as soon as a brief lull in business enabled him to approach the girl. "Why specially to-night?" she asked indifferently. "Your father must go by the night train to Kecskem t," he said, with seeming irrelevance. "There is that business about the plums." "The plums?" she asked, with a frown of puzzlement, "what plums?" "The fruit he bought near Kecskem t. They start gathering at sunrise to-morrow. He must be there the first hour, else he'd get shamefully robbed. He must travel by night." "I knew nothing about it," rejoined Klara, with an indifferent shrug of the shoulders. "Father never tells me when he is going to be away from home." "No!" retorted Leopold, with a sneer, "he knows better than to give all your gallants such a brilliant opportunity." "Don't be a fool, Leo!" she reiterated with a laugh. "I don't give any of them an opportunity, either," resumed the young man, while a curious look of almost animal ferocity crept into his pale face. "Whenever your father has to be away from home during the night, I take up my position outside this house and watch over you until daylight comes and people begin to come and go." "Very thoughtful of you, my good Leo," she rejoined dryly, "but you need not give yourself the trouble. I am well able to look after myself." "If any man molested you," continued Leopold, speaking very calmly, "I would kill him." "Who should molest me, you silly fool? And anyhow, I won't have you spying upon me like that." "You must not call it spying, Klara. I love to stand outside this house in the peace and darkness of the night, and to think of you quietly sleeping whilst I am keeping watch over you. You wouldn't call a watchdog a spy, would you?" "I know that to-night I shan't sleep a wink," she retorted crossly, "once father has gone. I shall always be thinking of you out there in the dark, watching this house. It will make me nervous." "To-night . . ." he began, and then abruptly checked himself. Once more that quick flash of passion shot through his pale, deep-set eyes. It seemed as if he meant to tell her something, which on second thoughts he decided to keep to himself. Her keen, dark eyes searched his face for a moment or two; she wondered what it was that lurked behind that high, smooth forehead of his and within the depths of that curiously perverted brain. Before she had time, however, to question him, Er s B la made noisy irruption into the room. He was greeted with a storm of cheers. "Hello, B la!" "Not the bridegroom, surely?" "Who would have thought of seeing you here?" While Leopold Hirsch muttered audibly: "What devil's mischief has brought this fellow here to-day, I wonder?" B la seemed in boisterous good-humour--with somewhat ostentatious hilarity he greeted all his friends, and then ordered some of Ign cz Goldstein's best wine for everybody all round. "Bravo, B la!" came from every side, together with loud applause at this unexpected liberality. "It is nice of you not to forget old friends," Klara whispered in his ear, as soon as he succeeded in reaching her side. "Whew!" he ejaculated with a sneer, "you have no idea, my good Klara, how I've been boring myself these past two hours. Those loutish peasants have no idea of enjoyment save their eternal gipsy music and their interminable cs rd s." "For a man of your education, B la," said Klara, with an insinuating smile, "it must be odiously dull. You would far rather have had a game of cards, wouldn't you now?" "I would far rather have had you at that infernal dance, so as to have had somebody to talk to," he retorted savagely. "Oh!" she said demurely, "that would never have done. Elsa must have such a lot to say to you herself. It would not be seemly for me to stand in the way." "Elsa, as you know, has that silly cs rd s on the brain. She has been dancing ever since six o'clock and has only given me about ten minutes of her company. She seems to belong to-night to every young fool that can dance, rather than to me." "Ah well! When you are married you can stop all that, my good B la. You can forbid your wife to dance the cs rd s, you know. I know many men who do it. Then Elsa will learn to appreciate the pleasure of your conversation. Though she is no longer very young, she is still very ignorant. You will have to educate her . . . bring her up to your own level of intelligence and of learning. In the meanwhile, do sit down and drink with those who, like yourself, have come here for an hour or two to break the monotony of perpetual czig ny music and dancing." She busied herself with drawing the corks of a number of bottles, which she then transferred from the end of the room where she stood to the tables at which sat her customers; she also brought out some fresh glasses. B la watched her for a moment or two in silence, unconscious of the fact that he, too, was being watched by a pair of pale eyes in which lurked a gleam of jealousy and of hate. Suddenly, as Klara brushed past him carrying bottles and glasses, he took hold of her by the elbow and drew her close to him. "These louts won't stay late to-night, will they?" he whispered in her ear. "No, not late," she replied; "they will go on to the barn in time for the supper, you may be sure of that. Why do you ask?" "I will have the supper served at ten o'clock," he continued to whisper, "but I'll not sit down to it. Not without you." "Don't be foolish, B la," she retorted. But even as he spoke, a little gleam of satisfaction, of gratified vanity, of anticipatory revenge, shot through her velvety dark eyes. "I warned Elsa," he continued sullenly; "I told her that if you were not at the feast, I should not be there either. She has disobeyed me. I must punish her." "So?" she rejoined, with an acid smile. "It is only in order to punish Elsa that you want to sup with me?" "Don't be stupid, Klara," he retorted. "I'll come at ten o'clock. Will you have some supper ready for me then? I have two or three bottles of French champagne over at my house--I'll bring them along. Will you be ready for me?" "Be silent, B la," she broke in hurriedly. "Can't you see that that fool Leo is watching us all the time?" "Curse, him! What have I got to do with him?" muttered B la savagely. "You will be ready for me, Klara?" "No!" she said decisively. "Better make your peace with Elsa. I'll have none of her leavings. I've had all I wanted out of you to-day--the banquet first and now your coming here. . . . It'll be all over the village presently--and that's all I care about. Have a drink now," she added good-humouredly, "and then go and make your peace with Elsa . . . if you can." She turned abruptly away from him, leaving him to murmur curses under his breath, and went on attending to her customers; nor did he get for the moment another opportunity of speaking with her, for Leopold Hirsch hovered round her for some considerable time after that, and presently, with much noise and pomp and circumstance, no less a personage than the noble young Count himself graced the premises of Ign cz Goldstein the Jew with his august presence. CHAPTER XIX "Now go and fetch the key." He belonged to the ancient family of R kosy, who had owned property on both banks of the Maros for the past eight centuries, and Feri R kosy, the twentieth-century representative of his medi val forbears, was a good-looking young fellow of the type so often met with among the upper classes in Hungary: quite something English in appearance--well set-up, well-dressed, well-groomed from the top of his smooth brown hair to the tips of his immaculately-shod feet--in the eyes an expression of habitual boredom, further accentuated by the slight, affected stoop of the shoulders and a few premature lines round the nose and mouth; and about his whole personality that air of high-breeding and of good, pure blood which is one of the chief characteristics of the true Hungarian aristocracy. He did little more than acknowledge the respectful salutations which greeted him from every corner of the little room as he entered, but he nodded to Er s B la and smiled all over his good-looking face at Klara, who, in her turn, welcomed him with a profusion of smiles which brought a volley of muttered curses to Leopold Hirsch's lips. While he held her one hand rather longer than was necessary she, with the other, took his hat from him, and then, laughing coquettishly, she pointed to a parcel which was causing the pocket of his well-cut Norfolk jacket to bulge immoderately. "Is that something for me?" she asked. "Of course it is," he replied lightly; "I bought it at the fair in Arad for you to-day." "How thoughtful of you!" she said, with a little sigh of pleasure. "Thoughtful?" he retorted, laughing pleasantly. "My good Klara, if I hadn't thought of you I would have died of boredom this afternoon. Here, give me a glass of your father's best wine and I'll tell you." He sat down with easy familiarity on the corner of the table which served as a counter. Klara, after this, had eyes and ears only for him. How could it be otherwise, seeing that it was not often a noble lord graced a village tap-room with his presence. Conversations round the room were now carried on in whispers; tarok cards were produced and here and there a game was in progress. Those who had drunk overmuch made themselves as inconspicuous as they could, drawing themselves closely against the wall, or frankly reclining across the table with arms outstretched and heads buried between them out of sight. An atmosphere of subdued animation and decorum reigned in the place; not a few men, oppressed by their sense of respect for my lord, had effected a quiet exit through the door, preferring the jovial atmosphere of the barn, from whence came, during certain hushed moments, the sounds of music and of laughter. The young man--whose presence caused all this revulsion in the usually noisy atmosphere of the tap-room--took no heed whatever of anything that went on around him: he seemed unconscious alike of the deference of the peasants as of the dark, menacing scowl with which Leopold Hirsch regarded him. He certainly did not bestow a single glance on Er s B la who, at my lord's appearance, had retreated into the very darkest corner of the room. B la did not care to encounter the young Count's sneering remarks just now--and these would of a certainty have been levelled against the bridegroom who was sitting in a tap-room when he should have been in attendance on his bride. But indeed my lord never saw him. To this young scion of a noble race, which had owned land and serfs for centuries past, these peasants here were of no more account than his oxen or his sheep--nor was the owner of a village shop of any more consequence in my lord's eyes. He came here because there was a good-looking Jewess in the tap-room whose conversation amused him, and whose dark, velvety eyes, fringed with long lashes, and mouth with full, red lips, stirred his jaded senses in a more pleasant and more decided way than did the eyes and lips of the demure, well-bred young Countesses and Baronesses who formed his usual social circle. Whether his flirtation with Klara, the Jewess, annoyed the girl's Jew lover or not, did not matter to him one jot; on the contrary the jealousy of that dirty lout Hirsch enhanced his amusement to a considerable extent. Therefore he did not take the trouble to lower his voice now when he talked to Klara, and it was quite openly that he put his arm round her waist while he held his glass to her lips--"To sweeten your father's vinegar!" he said with a laugh. "You know, my pretty Klara," he said gaily, "that I was half afraid I shouldn't see you to-day at all." "No?" she asked coquettishly. "No, by gad! My father was so soft-hearted to allow Er s a day off for his wedding or something, and so, if you please, I had to go to Arad with him, as he had to see about a sale of clover. I thought we should never get back. The roads were abominable." "I hardly expected your lordship," she said demurely. To punish her for that little lie, he tweaked her small ear till it became a bright crimson. "That is to punish you for telling such a lie," he said gaily. "You know that I meant to come and say good-bye." "Your lordship goes to-morrow?" she asked with a sigh. "To shoot bears, my pretty Klara," he replied. "I don't want to go. I would rather stay another week here for you to amuse me, you know." "I am proud . . ." she whispered. "So much do you amuse me that I have brought you a present, just to show you that I thought of you to-day and because I want you not to forget me during the three months that I shall be gone." He drew the parcel out of his pocket and, turning his back to the rest of the room, he cut the string and undid the paper that wrapped it. The contents of the parcel proved to be a morocco case, which flew open at a touch and displayed a gold curb chain bracelet--the dream of Klara Goldstein's desires. "For me?" she said, with a gasp of delight. "For your pretty arm, yes," he replied. "Shall I put it on?" She cast a swift, apprehensive glance round the room over his shoulder. "No, no, not now," she said quickly. "Why not?" "Father mightn't like it. I'd have to ask him." "D----n your father!" "And that fool, Leopold, is so insanely jealous." "D----n him too," said the young man quietly. Whereupon he took the morocco case out of Klara's hand, shut it with a snap and put it back into his pocket. "What are you doing?" cried Klara in a fright. "As you see, pretty one, I am putting the bracelet away for future use." "But . . ." she stammered. "If I can't put the bracelet on your arm myself," he said decisively, "you shan't have it at all." "But . . ." "That is my last word. Let us talk of something else." "No, no! We won't talk of something else. You said the bracelet was for me." She cast a languishing look on him through her long upper lashes; she bared her wrist and held it out to him. Leopold and his jealousy might go hang for aught she cared, for she meant to have the bracelet. The young man, with a fatuous little laugh, brought out the case once more. With his own hands he now fastened the bracelet round Klara Goldstein's wrist. Then--as a matter of course--he kissed her round, brown arm just above the bracelet, and also the red lips through which the words of thanks came quickly tumbling. Klara did not dare to look across the room. She felt, though she did not see, Leopold's pale eyes watching this little scene with a glow in them of ferocious hate and of almost animal rage. "I won't stay now, Klara," said the young Count, dropping his voice suddenly to a whisper; "too many of these louts about. When will you be free?" "Oh, not to-day," she whispered in reply. "After the fair there are sure to be late-comers. And you know Er s B la has a ball on at the barn and supper afterwards. . . ." "The very thing," he broke in, in an eager whisper. "While they are all at supper, I'll come in for a drink and a chat. . . . Ten o'clock, eh?" "Oh, no, no!" she protested feebly. "My father wouldn't like it, he . . ." "D----n your father, my dear, as I remarked before. And, as a matter of fact, your father is not going to be in the way at all. He goes to Kecskem t by the night train." "How do you know that?" "My father told me quite casually that Goldstein was seeing to some business for him at Kecskem t to-morrow. So it was not very difficult to guess that if your father was to be in Kecskem t to-morrow in time to transact business, he would have to travel up by the nine o'clock train this evening in order to get there." Then, as she made no reply, and a blush of pleasure gradually suffused her dark skin, lending it additional charm and giving to her eyes added brilliancy, he continued, more peremptorily this time: "At ten o'clock, then--I'll come back. Get rid of as many of these louts by then as you can." She was only too ready to yield. Not only was she hugely flattered by my lord's attentions, but she found him excessively attractive. He could make himself very agreeable to a woman if he chose, and evidently he chose to do so now. Moreover Klara had found by previous experience that to yield to the young man's varied and varying caprices was always remunerative, and there was that gold watch which he had once vaguely promised her, and which she knew she could get out of him if she had the time and opportunity, as she certainly would have to-night if he came. Count Feri, seeing that she had all but yielded, was preparing to go. Her hand was still in his, and he was pressing her slender fingers in token of a pledge for this evening. "At ten o'clock," he whispered again. "No, no," she protested once more, but this time he must have known that she only did it for form's sake and really meant to let him have his way. "The neighbours would see you enter, and there might be a whole lot of people in the tap-room at that hour: one never knows. They would know by then that my father had gone away and they would talk such scandal about me. My reputation . . ." No doubt he felt inclined to ejaculate in his usual manner: "D----n your reputation!" but he thought better of it, and merely said casually: "I need not come in by the front door, need I?" "The back door is always locked," she remarked ingenuously. "My father invariably locks it himself the last thing at night." "But since he is going to Kecskem t . . ." he suggested. "When he has to be away from home for the night he locks the door from the inside and takes the key away with him." "Surely there is a duplicate key somewhere? . . ." "I don't know," she murmured. "If you don't know, who should?" he remarked, with affected indifference. "Well! I shall have to make myself heard at the back door--that's all!" "How?" "Wouldn't you hear me if I knocked?" "Not if I were in the tap-room and a lot of customers to attend to." "Well, then, I should hammer away until you did hear me." "For that old gossip R zi to hear you," she protested. "Her cottage is not fifty paces away from our back door." "Then it will have to be the front door, after all," he rejoined philosophically. "No, no!--the neighbours--and perhaps the tap-room full of people." "But d----n it, Klara," he exclaimed impatiently, "I have made up my mind to come and spend my last evening with you--and when I have made up my mind to a thing, I am not likely to change it because of a lot of gossiping peasants, because of old R zi, or the whole lot of them. So if you don't want me to come in by the front door, which is open, or to knock at the back door, which is locked, how am I going to get in?" "I don't know." "Well, then, you'll have to find out, my pretty one," he said decisively, "for it has got to be done somehow, or that gold watch we spoke of the other day will have to go to somebody else. And you know when I say a thing I mean it. Eh?" "There is a duplicate key," she whispered shyly, ". . . to the back door, I mean." "I thought there was," he remarked dryly. "Where is it?" "In the next room. . . . It hangs on a nail by father's bedside." "Go and get it, then," he said more impatiently. "Not now," she urged. "Leopold is looking straight at you and me." He shrugged his aristocratic shoulders. "You are not afraid of that monkey?" he said with a laugh. "Well, no! not exactly afraid. But he is so insanely jealous; one never knows what kind of mischief he'll get into. He told me just now that whenever father is away from home he takes his stand outside this house from nightfall till morning--watching!" "A modern Argus--eh?" "A modern lunatic!" she retorted. "Well!" resumed the young man lightly, "lunatic or not, he won't be able to keep an eye on you to-night, even though your father will be away." "How do you mean?" "Hirsch is off to

mahogany

How many times the word 'mahogany' appears in the text?

ticked off on her long, pointed fingers the last bevy of her admirers on whom she might reasonably count: the son of the chemist over in Arad, the tenant of the Kender Road farm, the proprietor of the station cabs, and there were two or three others; but they were certainly falling away, and she had added no new ones to her list these past six months. Er s B la's formally declared engagement to Kapus Elsa had been a very severe blow. She had really reckoned on B la. He was educated and unconventional, and though he professed the usual anti-Semitic views peculiar to his kind, Klara did not believe that these were very genuine. At any rate, she had reckoned that her fine eyes and provocative ways would tilt successfully against the man's racial prejudices. Er s B la was rich and certainly, up to a point, in love with her. Klara was congratulating herself on the way she was playing her matrimonial cards, when all her hopes were so suddenly dashed to the ground. B la was going to marry that silly, ignorant peasant girl, and she, Klara, would be left to marry Leopold after all. Her anger and humiliation had been very great, and she had battled very persistently and very ably to regain the prize which she had lost. She knew quite well that, but for the fact that she belonged to the alien and despised race, Er s B la would have been only too happy to marry her. His vanity alone had made him choose Kapus Elsa. He wanted the noted beauty for himself, because the noted beauty had been courted by so many people, and where so many people had failed he was proud to succeed. Nor would he have cared to have it said that he had married a Jewess. There is always a certain thought of disgrace attached to such a marriage, whether it has been contracted by peer or peasant, and Er s B la's one dominating idea in life was to keep the respect and deference of his native village. But he had continued his attentions to Klara, and Klara had kept a wonderful hold over his imagination and over his will. She was the one woman who had ever had her will with him--only partially, of course, and not to the extent of forcing him into matrimony--but sufficiently to keep him also dangling round her skirts even though his whole allegiance should have belonged to Elsa. The banquet this afternoon had been a veritable triumph. Whatever she had suffered through B la's final disloyalty to herself, she knew that Kapus Elsa must have suffered all through the banquet. The humiliation of seeing one's bridegroom openly flaunting his admiration for another woman must have been indeed very bitter to bear. Not for a moment did Klara Goldstein doubt that the subsequent scene was an act of vengeance against herself on Elsa's part. She judged other women by her own standard, discounted other women's emotions, thoughts, feelings, by her own. She thought it quite natural that Elsa should wish to be revenged, just as she was quite sure that B la was already meditating some kind of retaliation for the shame which Andor had put upon him and for Elsa's obstinacy and share in the matter. She had not spoken to anyone of the little scene which had occurred between the four walls of the little schoolroom: on the contrary she had spoken loudly of both the bridegroom's and the bride's cordiality to her during the banquet. "Elsa wanted me to go to the dancing this evening," she said casually, "but I thought you would all miss me. I didn't want this place to be dull just because half the village is enjoying itself somewhere else." It had been market day at Arad, and at about five o'clock Klara and her father became very busy. Cattle-dealers and pig-merchants, travellers and pedlars, dropped in for a glass of silvorium and a chat with the good-looking Jewess. More than one bargain, discussed on the marketplace of Arad, was concluded in the stuffy tap-room of Marosfalva. "Shall we be honoured by the young Count's presence later on?" someone asked, with a significant nod to Klara. Everyone laughed in sympathy; the admiration of the noble young Count for Klara Goldstein was well-known. There was nothing in it, of course; even Klara, vain and ambitious as she was, knew that the bridge which divided the aristocrat from one of her kind and of her race was an impassable one. But she liked the young Count's attentions--she liked the presents he brought her from time to time, and relished the notoriety which this flirtation gave her. She also loved to tease poor Leopold Hirsch. Leo had been passionately in love with her for years; what he must have endured in moral and mental torture during that time through his jealousy and often groundless suspicions no one who did not know him intimately could ever have guessed. These tortures which Klara wantonly inflicted upon the wretched young man had been a constant source of amusement to her. Even now she was delighted because, as luck would have it, he entered the tap-room at the very moment when everyone was chaffing her about the young Count. Leopold Hirsch cast a quick, suspicious glance upon the girl, and his dull olive skin assumed an almost greenish hue. He was not of prepossessing appearance; this he knew himself, and the knowledge helped to keep his jealousy and his suspicion aflame. He was short and lean of stature and his head, with its large, bony features, seemed too big for his narrow shoulders to carry. His ginger-coloured hair was lank and scanty; he wore it--after the manner of those of his race in that part of the world--in corkscrew ringlets down each side of his narrow, cadaverous-looking face. His eyes were pale and shifty, but every now and then there shot into them a curious gleam of unbridled passion--love, hate or revenge; and then the whole face would light up and compel attention by the revelation of latent power. This had happened now when a fellow who sat in the corner by the window made some rough jest about the young Count. Leopold made his way to Klara's side; his thin lips were tightly pressed together, and he had buried his hands in the pockets of his ill-fitting trousers. "If that accursed aristocrat comes hanging round here much more, Klara," he muttered between set teeth, "I'll kill him one of these days." "What a fool you are, Leopold!" she said. "Why, yesterday it was Er s B la you objected to." "And I do still," he retorted. "I heard of your conduct at the banquet to-day. It is the talk of the village. One by one these loutish peasants have come into my shop and told me the tale--curse them!--of how the bridegroom had eyes and ears only for you. You seem to forget, Klara," he added, while a thought of menace crept into his voice, "that you are tokened to me now. So don't try and make a fool of me, or . . ." "The Lord bless you, my good man," she retorted, with a laugh, "I won't try, I promise you. I wouldn't like to compete with the Almighty, who has done that for you already." "Klara . . ." he exclaimed. "Oh! be quiet now, Leo," she said impatiently. "Can't you see that my hands are as full as I can manage, without my having to bother about you and your jealous tempers?" She elbowed him aside and went to the counter to serve a customer who had just arrived, and more than a quarter of an hour went by before Leopold had the chance of another word with her. "You might have a kind word for me to-night, Klara," he said ruefully, as soon as a brief lull in business enabled him to approach the girl. "Why specially to-night?" she asked indifferently. "Your father must go by the night train to Kecskem t," he said, with seeming irrelevance. "There is that business about the plums." "The plums?" she asked, with a frown of puzzlement, "what plums?" "The fruit he bought near Kecskem t. They start gathering at sunrise to-morrow. He must be there the first hour, else he'd get shamefully robbed. He must travel by night." "I knew nothing about it," rejoined Klara, with an indifferent shrug of the shoulders. "Father never tells me when he is going to be away from home." "No!" retorted Leopold, with a sneer, "he knows better than to give all your gallants such a brilliant opportunity." "Don't be a fool, Leo!" she reiterated with a laugh. "I don't give any of them an opportunity, either," resumed the young man, while a curious look of almost animal ferocity crept into his pale face. "Whenever your father has to be away from home during the night, I take up my position outside this house and watch over you until daylight comes and people begin to come and go." "Very thoughtful of you, my good Leo," she rejoined dryly, "but you need not give yourself the trouble. I am well able to look after myself." "If any man molested you," continued Leopold, speaking very calmly, "I would kill him." "Who should molest me, you silly fool? And anyhow, I won't have you spying upon me like that." "You must not call it spying, Klara. I love to stand outside this house in the peace and darkness of the night, and to think of you quietly sleeping whilst I am keeping watch over you. You wouldn't call a watchdog a spy, would you?" "I know that to-night I shan't sleep a wink," she retorted crossly, "once father has gone. I shall always be thinking of you out there in the dark, watching this house. It will make me nervous." "To-night . . ." he began, and then abruptly checked himself. Once more that quick flash of passion shot through his pale, deep-set eyes. It seemed as if he meant to tell her something, which on second thoughts he decided to keep to himself. Her keen, dark eyes searched his face for a moment or two; she wondered what it was that lurked behind that high, smooth forehead of his and within the depths of that curiously perverted brain. Before she had time, however, to question him, Er s B la made noisy irruption into the room. He was greeted with a storm of cheers. "Hello, B la!" "Not the bridegroom, surely?" "Who would have thought of seeing you here?" While Leopold Hirsch muttered audibly: "What devil's mischief has brought this fellow here to-day, I wonder?" B la seemed in boisterous good-humour--with somewhat ostentatious hilarity he greeted all his friends, and then ordered some of Ign cz Goldstein's best wine for everybody all round. "Bravo, B la!" came from every side, together with loud applause at this unexpected liberality. "It is nice of you not to forget old friends," Klara whispered in his ear, as soon as he succeeded in reaching her side. "Whew!" he ejaculated with a sneer, "you have no idea, my good Klara, how I've been boring myself these past two hours. Those loutish peasants have no idea of enjoyment save their eternal gipsy music and their interminable cs rd s." "For a man of your education, B la," said Klara, with an insinuating smile, "it must be odiously dull. You would far rather have had a game of cards, wouldn't you now?" "I would far rather have had you at that infernal dance, so as to have had somebody to talk to," he retorted savagely. "Oh!" she said demurely, "that would never have done. Elsa must have such a lot to say to you herself. It would not be seemly for me to stand in the way." "Elsa, as you know, has that silly cs rd s on the brain. She has been dancing ever since six o'clock and has only given me about ten minutes of her company. She seems to belong to-night to every young fool that can dance, rather than to me." "Ah well! When you are married you can stop all that, my good B la. You can forbid your wife to dance the cs rd s, you know. I know many men who do it. Then Elsa will learn to appreciate the pleasure of your conversation. Though she is no longer very young, she is still very ignorant. You will have to educate her . . . bring her up to your own level of intelligence and of learning. In the meanwhile, do sit down and drink with those who, like yourself, have come here for an hour or two to break the monotony of perpetual czig ny music and dancing." She busied herself with drawing the corks of a number of bottles, which she then transferred from the end of the room where she stood to the tables at which sat her customers; she also brought out some fresh glasses. B la watched her for a moment or two in silence, unconscious of the fact that he, too, was being watched by a pair of pale eyes in which lurked a gleam of jealousy and of hate. Suddenly, as Klara brushed past him carrying bottles and glasses, he took hold of her by the elbow and drew her close to him. "These louts won't stay late to-night, will they?" he whispered in her ear. "No, not late," she replied; "they will go on to the barn in time for the supper, you may be sure of that. Why do you ask?" "I will have the supper served at ten o'clock," he continued to whisper, "but I'll not sit down to it. Not without you." "Don't be foolish, B la," she retorted. But even as he spoke, a little gleam of satisfaction, of gratified vanity, of anticipatory revenge, shot through her velvety dark eyes. "I warned Elsa," he continued sullenly; "I told her that if you were not at the feast, I should not be there either. She has disobeyed me. I must punish her." "So?" she rejoined, with an acid smile. "It is only in order to punish Elsa that you want to sup with me?" "Don't be stupid, Klara," he retorted. "I'll come at ten o'clock. Will you have some supper ready for me then? I have two or three bottles of French champagne over at my house--I'll bring them along. Will you be ready for me?" "Be silent, B la," she broke in hurriedly. "Can't you see that that fool Leo is watching us all the time?" "Curse, him! What have I got to do with him?" muttered B la savagely. "You will be ready for me, Klara?" "No!" she said decisively. "Better make your peace with Elsa. I'll have none of her leavings. I've had all I wanted out of you to-day--the banquet first and now your coming here. . . . It'll be all over the village presently--and that's all I care about. Have a drink now," she added good-humouredly, "and then go and make your peace with Elsa . . . if you can." She turned abruptly away from him, leaving him to murmur curses under his breath, and went on attending to her customers; nor did he get for the moment another opportunity of speaking with her, for Leopold Hirsch hovered round her for some considerable time after that, and presently, with much noise and pomp and circumstance, no less a personage than the noble young Count himself graced the premises of Ign cz Goldstein the Jew with his august presence. CHAPTER XIX "Now go and fetch the key." He belonged to the ancient family of R kosy, who had owned property on both banks of the Maros for the past eight centuries, and Feri R kosy, the twentieth-century representative of his medi val forbears, was a good-looking young fellow of the type so often met with among the upper classes in Hungary: quite something English in appearance--well set-up, well-dressed, well-groomed from the top of his smooth brown hair to the tips of his immaculately-shod feet--in the eyes an expression of habitual boredom, further accentuated by the slight, affected stoop of the shoulders and a few premature lines round the nose and mouth; and about his whole personality that air of high-breeding and of good, pure blood which is one of the chief characteristics of the true Hungarian aristocracy. He did little more than acknowledge the respectful salutations which greeted him from every corner of the little room as he entered, but he nodded to Er s B la and smiled all over his good-looking face at Klara, who, in her turn, welcomed him with a profusion of smiles which brought a volley of muttered curses to Leopold Hirsch's lips. While he held her one hand rather longer than was necessary she, with the other, took his hat from him, and then, laughing coquettishly, she pointed to a parcel which was causing the pocket of his well-cut Norfolk jacket to bulge immoderately. "Is that something for me?" she asked. "Of course it is," he replied lightly; "I bought it at the fair in Arad for you to-day." "How thoughtful of you!" she said, with a little sigh of pleasure. "Thoughtful?" he retorted, laughing pleasantly. "My good Klara, if I hadn't thought of you I would have died of boredom this afternoon. Here, give me a glass of your father's best wine and I'll tell you." He sat down with easy familiarity on the corner of the table which served as a counter. Klara, after this, had eyes and ears only for him. How could it be otherwise, seeing that it was not often a noble lord graced a village tap-room with his presence. Conversations round the room were now carried on in whispers; tarok cards were produced and here and there a game was in progress. Those who had drunk overmuch made themselves as inconspicuous as they could, drawing themselves closely against the wall, or frankly reclining across the table with arms outstretched and heads buried between them out of sight. An atmosphere of subdued animation and decorum reigned in the place; not a few men, oppressed by their sense of respect for my lord, had effected a quiet exit through the door, preferring the jovial atmosphere of the barn, from whence came, during certain hushed moments, the sounds of music and of laughter. The young man--whose presence caused all this revulsion in the usually noisy atmosphere of the tap-room--took no heed whatever of anything that went on around him: he seemed unconscious alike of the deference of the peasants as of the dark, menacing scowl with which Leopold Hirsch regarded him. He certainly did not bestow a single glance on Er s B la who, at my lord's appearance, had retreated into the very darkest corner of the room. B la did not care to encounter the young Count's sneering remarks just now--and these would of a certainty have been levelled against the bridegroom who was sitting in a tap-room when he should have been in attendance on his bride. But indeed my lord never saw him. To this young scion of a noble race, which had owned land and serfs for centuries past, these peasants here were of no more account than his oxen or his sheep--nor was the owner of a village shop of any more consequence in my lord's eyes. He came here because there was a good-looking Jewess in the tap-room whose conversation amused him, and whose dark, velvety eyes, fringed with long lashes, and mouth with full, red lips, stirred his jaded senses in a more pleasant and more decided way than did the eyes and lips of the demure, well-bred young Countesses and Baronesses who formed his usual social circle. Whether his flirtation with Klara, the Jewess, annoyed the girl's Jew lover or not, did not matter to him one jot; on the contrary the jealousy of that dirty lout Hirsch enhanced his amusement to a considerable extent. Therefore he did not take the trouble to lower his voice now when he talked to Klara, and it was quite openly that he put his arm round her waist while he held his glass to her lips--"To sweeten your father's vinegar!" he said with a laugh. "You know, my pretty Klara," he said gaily, "that I was half afraid I shouldn't see you to-day at all." "No?" she asked coquettishly. "No, by gad! My father was so soft-hearted to allow Er s a day off for his wedding or something, and so, if you please, I had to go to Arad with him, as he had to see about a sale of clover. I thought we should never get back. The roads were abominable." "I hardly expected your lordship," she said demurely. To punish her for that little lie, he tweaked her small ear till it became a bright crimson. "That is to punish you for telling such a lie," he said gaily. "You know that I meant to come and say good-bye." "Your lordship goes to-morrow?" she asked with a sigh. "To shoot bears, my pretty Klara," he replied. "I don't want to go. I would rather stay another week here for you to amuse me, you know." "I am proud . . ." she whispered. "So much do you amuse me that I have brought you a present, just to show you that I thought of you to-day and because I want you not to forget me during the three months that I shall be gone." He drew the parcel out of his pocket and, turning his back to the rest of the room, he cut the string and undid the paper that wrapped it. The contents of the parcel proved to be a morocco case, which flew open at a touch and displayed a gold curb chain bracelet--the dream of Klara Goldstein's desires. "For me?" she said, with a gasp of delight. "For your pretty arm, yes," he replied. "Shall I put it on?" She cast a swift, apprehensive glance round the room over his shoulder. "No, no, not now," she said quickly. "Why not?" "Father mightn't like it. I'd have to ask him." "D----n your father!" "And that fool, Leopold, is so insanely jealous." "D----n him too," said the young man quietly. Whereupon he took the morocco case out of Klara's hand, shut it with a snap and put it back into his pocket. "What are you doing?" cried Klara in a fright. "As you see, pretty one, I am putting the bracelet away for future use." "But . . ." she stammered. "If I can't put the bracelet on your arm myself," he said decisively, "you shan't have it at all." "But . . ." "That is my last word. Let us talk of something else." "No, no! We won't talk of something else. You said the bracelet was for me." She cast a languishing look on him through her long upper lashes; she bared her wrist and held it out to him. Leopold and his jealousy might go hang for aught she cared, for she meant to have the bracelet. The young man, with a fatuous little laugh, brought out the case once more. With his own hands he now fastened the bracelet round Klara Goldstein's wrist. Then--as a matter of course--he kissed her round, brown arm just above the bracelet, and also the red lips through which the words of thanks came quickly tumbling. Klara did not dare to look across the room. She felt, though she did not see, Leopold's pale eyes watching this little scene with a glow in them of ferocious hate and of almost animal rage. "I won't stay now, Klara," said the young Count, dropping his voice suddenly to a whisper; "too many of these louts about. When will you be free?" "Oh, not to-day," she whispered in reply. "After the fair there are sure to be late-comers. And you know Er s B la has a ball on at the barn and supper afterwards. . . ." "The very thing," he broke in, in an eager whisper. "While they are all at supper, I'll come in for a drink and a chat. . . . Ten o'clock, eh?" "Oh, no, no!" she protested feebly. "My father wouldn't like it, he . . ." "D----n your father, my dear, as I remarked before. And, as a matter of fact, your father is not going to be in the way at all. He goes to Kecskem t by the night train." "How do you know that?" "My father told me quite casually that Goldstein was seeing to some business for him at Kecskem t to-morrow. So it was not very difficult to guess that if your father was to be in Kecskem t to-morrow in time to transact business, he would have to travel up by the nine o'clock train this evening in order to get there." Then, as she made no reply, and a blush of pleasure gradually suffused her dark skin, lending it additional charm and giving to her eyes added brilliancy, he continued, more peremptorily this time: "At ten o'clock, then--I'll come back. Get rid of as many of these louts by then as you can." She was only too ready to yield. Not only was she hugely flattered by my lord's attentions, but she found him excessively attractive. He could make himself very agreeable to a woman if he chose, and evidently he chose to do so now. Moreover Klara had found by previous experience that to yield to the young man's varied and varying caprices was always remunerative, and there was that gold watch which he had once vaguely promised her, and which she knew she could get out of him if she had the time and opportunity, as she certainly would have to-night if he came. Count Feri, seeing that she had all but yielded, was preparing to go. Her hand was still in his, and he was pressing her slender fingers in token of a pledge for this evening. "At ten o'clock," he whispered again. "No, no," she protested once more, but this time he must have known that she only did it for form's sake and really meant to let him have his way. "The neighbours would see you enter, and there might be a whole lot of people in the tap-room at that hour: one never knows. They would know by then that my father had gone away and they would talk such scandal about me. My reputation . . ." No doubt he felt inclined to ejaculate in his usual manner: "D----n your reputation!" but he thought better of it, and merely said casually: "I need not come in by the front door, need I?" "The back door is always locked," she remarked ingenuously. "My father invariably locks it himself the last thing at night." "But since he is going to Kecskem t . . ." he suggested. "When he has to be away from home for the night he locks the door from the inside and takes the key away with him." "Surely there is a duplicate key somewhere? . . ." "I don't know," she murmured. "If you don't know, who should?" he remarked, with affected indifference. "Well! I shall have to make myself heard at the back door--that's all!" "How?" "Wouldn't you hear me if I knocked?" "Not if I were in the tap-room and a lot of customers to attend to." "Well, then, I should hammer away until you did hear me." "For that old gossip R zi to hear you," she protested. "Her cottage is not fifty paces away from our back door." "Then it will have to be the front door, after all," he rejoined philosophically. "No, no!--the neighbours--and perhaps the tap-room full of people." "But d----n it, Klara," he exclaimed impatiently, "I have made up my mind to come and spend my last evening with you--and when I have made up my mind to a thing, I am not likely to change it because of a lot of gossiping peasants, because of old R zi, or the whole lot of them. So if you don't want me to come in by the front door, which is open, or to knock at the back door, which is locked, how am I going to get in?" "I don't know." "Well, then, you'll have to find out, my pretty one," he said decisively, "for it has got to be done somehow, or that gold watch we spoke of the other day will have to go to somebody else. And you know when I say a thing I mean it. Eh?" "There is a duplicate key," she whispered shyly, ". . . to the back door, I mean." "I thought there was," he remarked dryly. "Where is it?" "In the next room. . . . It hangs on a nail by father's bedside." "Go and get it, then," he said more impatiently. "Not now," she urged. "Leopold is looking straight at you and me." He shrugged his aristocratic shoulders. "You are not afraid of that monkey?" he said with a laugh. "Well, no! not exactly afraid. But he is so insanely jealous; one never knows what kind of mischief he'll get into. He told me just now that whenever father is away from home he takes his stand outside this house from nightfall till morning--watching!" "A modern Argus--eh?" "A modern lunatic!" she retorted. "Well!" resumed the young man lightly, "lunatic or not, he won't be able to keep an eye on you to-night, even though your father will be away." "How do you mean?" "Hirsch is off to

quietly

How many times the word 'quietly' appears in the text?

ticked off on her long, pointed fingers the last bevy of her admirers on whom she might reasonably count: the son of the chemist over in Arad, the tenant of the Kender Road farm, the proprietor of the station cabs, and there were two or three others; but they were certainly falling away, and she had added no new ones to her list these past six months. Er s B la's formally declared engagement to Kapus Elsa had been a very severe blow. She had really reckoned on B la. He was educated and unconventional, and though he professed the usual anti-Semitic views peculiar to his kind, Klara did not believe that these were very genuine. At any rate, she had reckoned that her fine eyes and provocative ways would tilt successfully against the man's racial prejudices. Er s B la was rich and certainly, up to a point, in love with her. Klara was congratulating herself on the way she was playing her matrimonial cards, when all her hopes were so suddenly dashed to the ground. B la was going to marry that silly, ignorant peasant girl, and she, Klara, would be left to marry Leopold after all. Her anger and humiliation had been very great, and she had battled very persistently and very ably to regain the prize which she had lost. She knew quite well that, but for the fact that she belonged to the alien and despised race, Er s B la would have been only too happy to marry her. His vanity alone had made him choose Kapus Elsa. He wanted the noted beauty for himself, because the noted beauty had been courted by so many people, and where so many people had failed he was proud to succeed. Nor would he have cared to have it said that he had married a Jewess. There is always a certain thought of disgrace attached to such a marriage, whether it has been contracted by peer or peasant, and Er s B la's one dominating idea in life was to keep the respect and deference of his native village. But he had continued his attentions to Klara, and Klara had kept a wonderful hold over his imagination and over his will. She was the one woman who had ever had her will with him--only partially, of course, and not to the extent of forcing him into matrimony--but sufficiently to keep him also dangling round her skirts even though his whole allegiance should have belonged to Elsa. The banquet this afternoon had been a veritable triumph. Whatever she had suffered through B la's final disloyalty to herself, she knew that Kapus Elsa must have suffered all through the banquet. The humiliation of seeing one's bridegroom openly flaunting his admiration for another woman must have been indeed very bitter to bear. Not for a moment did Klara Goldstein doubt that the subsequent scene was an act of vengeance against herself on Elsa's part. She judged other women by her own standard, discounted other women's emotions, thoughts, feelings, by her own. She thought it quite natural that Elsa should wish to be revenged, just as she was quite sure that B la was already meditating some kind of retaliation for the shame which Andor had put upon him and for Elsa's obstinacy and share in the matter. She had not spoken to anyone of the little scene which had occurred between the four walls of the little schoolroom: on the contrary she had spoken loudly of both the bridegroom's and the bride's cordiality to her during the banquet. "Elsa wanted me to go to the dancing this evening," she said casually, "but I thought you would all miss me. I didn't want this place to be dull just because half the village is enjoying itself somewhere else." It had been market day at Arad, and at about five o'clock Klara and her father became very busy. Cattle-dealers and pig-merchants, travellers and pedlars, dropped in for a glass of silvorium and a chat with the good-looking Jewess. More than one bargain, discussed on the marketplace of Arad, was concluded in the stuffy tap-room of Marosfalva. "Shall we be honoured by the young Count's presence later on?" someone asked, with a significant nod to Klara. Everyone laughed in sympathy; the admiration of the noble young Count for Klara Goldstein was well-known. There was nothing in it, of course; even Klara, vain and ambitious as she was, knew that the bridge which divided the aristocrat from one of her kind and of her race was an impassable one. But she liked the young Count's attentions--she liked the presents he brought her from time to time, and relished the notoriety which this flirtation gave her. She also loved to tease poor Leopold Hirsch. Leo had been passionately in love with her for years; what he must have endured in moral and mental torture during that time through his jealousy and often groundless suspicions no one who did not know him intimately could ever have guessed. These tortures which Klara wantonly inflicted upon the wretched young man had been a constant source of amusement to her. Even now she was delighted because, as luck would have it, he entered the tap-room at the very moment when everyone was chaffing her about the young Count. Leopold Hirsch cast a quick, suspicious glance upon the girl, and his dull olive skin assumed an almost greenish hue. He was not of prepossessing appearance; this he knew himself, and the knowledge helped to keep his jealousy and his suspicion aflame. He was short and lean of stature and his head, with its large, bony features, seemed too big for his narrow shoulders to carry. His ginger-coloured hair was lank and scanty; he wore it--after the manner of those of his race in that part of the world--in corkscrew ringlets down each side of his narrow, cadaverous-looking face. His eyes were pale and shifty, but every now and then there shot into them a curious gleam of unbridled passion--love, hate or revenge; and then the whole face would light up and compel attention by the revelation of latent power. This had happened now when a fellow who sat in the corner by the window made some rough jest about the young Count. Leopold made his way to Klara's side; his thin lips were tightly pressed together, and he had buried his hands in the pockets of his ill-fitting trousers. "If that accursed aristocrat comes hanging round here much more, Klara," he muttered between set teeth, "I'll kill him one of these days." "What a fool you are, Leopold!" she said. "Why, yesterday it was Er s B la you objected to." "And I do still," he retorted. "I heard of your conduct at the banquet to-day. It is the talk of the village. One by one these loutish peasants have come into my shop and told me the tale--curse them!--of how the bridegroom had eyes and ears only for you. You seem to forget, Klara," he added, while a thought of menace crept into his voice, "that you are tokened to me now. So don't try and make a fool of me, or . . ." "The Lord bless you, my good man," she retorted, with a laugh, "I won't try, I promise you. I wouldn't like to compete with the Almighty, who has done that for you already." "Klara . . ." he exclaimed. "Oh! be quiet now, Leo," she said impatiently. "Can't you see that my hands are as full as I can manage, without my having to bother about you and your jealous tempers?" She elbowed him aside and went to the counter to serve a customer who had just arrived, and more than a quarter of an hour went by before Leopold had the chance of another word with her. "You might have a kind word for me to-night, Klara," he said ruefully, as soon as a brief lull in business enabled him to approach the girl. "Why specially to-night?" she asked indifferently. "Your father must go by the night train to Kecskem t," he said, with seeming irrelevance. "There is that business about the plums." "The plums?" she asked, with a frown of puzzlement, "what plums?" "The fruit he bought near Kecskem t. They start gathering at sunrise to-morrow. He must be there the first hour, else he'd get shamefully robbed. He must travel by night." "I knew nothing about it," rejoined Klara, with an indifferent shrug of the shoulders. "Father never tells me when he is going to be away from home." "No!" retorted Leopold, with a sneer, "he knows better than to give all your gallants such a brilliant opportunity." "Don't be a fool, Leo!" she reiterated with a laugh. "I don't give any of them an opportunity, either," resumed the young man, while a curious look of almost animal ferocity crept into his pale face. "Whenever your father has to be away from home during the night, I take up my position outside this house and watch over you until daylight comes and people begin to come and go." "Very thoughtful of you, my good Leo," she rejoined dryly, "but you need not give yourself the trouble. I am well able to look after myself." "If any man molested you," continued Leopold, speaking very calmly, "I would kill him." "Who should molest me, you silly fool? And anyhow, I won't have you spying upon me like that." "You must not call it spying, Klara. I love to stand outside this house in the peace and darkness of the night, and to think of you quietly sleeping whilst I am keeping watch over you. You wouldn't call a watchdog a spy, would you?" "I know that to-night I shan't sleep a wink," she retorted crossly, "once father has gone. I shall always be thinking of you out there in the dark, watching this house. It will make me nervous." "To-night . . ." he began, and then abruptly checked himself. Once more that quick flash of passion shot through his pale, deep-set eyes. It seemed as if he meant to tell her something, which on second thoughts he decided to keep to himself. Her keen, dark eyes searched his face for a moment or two; she wondered what it was that lurked behind that high, smooth forehead of his and within the depths of that curiously perverted brain. Before she had time, however, to question him, Er s B la made noisy irruption into the room. He was greeted with a storm of cheers. "Hello, B la!" "Not the bridegroom, surely?" "Who would have thought of seeing you here?" While Leopold Hirsch muttered audibly: "What devil's mischief has brought this fellow here to-day, I wonder?" B la seemed in boisterous good-humour--with somewhat ostentatious hilarity he greeted all his friends, and then ordered some of Ign cz Goldstein's best wine for everybody all round. "Bravo, B la!" came from every side, together with loud applause at this unexpected liberality. "It is nice of you not to forget old friends," Klara whispered in his ear, as soon as he succeeded in reaching her side. "Whew!" he ejaculated with a sneer, "you have no idea, my good Klara, how I've been boring myself these past two hours. Those loutish peasants have no idea of enjoyment save their eternal gipsy music and their interminable cs rd s." "For a man of your education, B la," said Klara, with an insinuating smile, "it must be odiously dull. You would far rather have had a game of cards, wouldn't you now?" "I would far rather have had you at that infernal dance, so as to have had somebody to talk to," he retorted savagely. "Oh!" she said demurely, "that would never have done. Elsa must have such a lot to say to you herself. It would not be seemly for me to stand in the way." "Elsa, as you know, has that silly cs rd s on the brain. She has been dancing ever since six o'clock and has only given me about ten minutes of her company. She seems to belong to-night to every young fool that can dance, rather than to me." "Ah well! When you are married you can stop all that, my good B la. You can forbid your wife to dance the cs rd s, you know. I know many men who do it. Then Elsa will learn to appreciate the pleasure of your conversation. Though she is no longer very young, she is still very ignorant. You will have to educate her . . . bring her up to your own level of intelligence and of learning. In the meanwhile, do sit down and drink with those who, like yourself, have come here for an hour or two to break the monotony of perpetual czig ny music and dancing." She busied herself with drawing the corks of a number of bottles, which she then transferred from the end of the room where she stood to the tables at which sat her customers; she also brought out some fresh glasses. B la watched her for a moment or two in silence, unconscious of the fact that he, too, was being watched by a pair of pale eyes in which lurked a gleam of jealousy and of hate. Suddenly, as Klara brushed past him carrying bottles and glasses, he took hold of her by the elbow and drew her close to him. "These louts won't stay late to-night, will they?" he whispered in her ear. "No, not late," she replied; "they will go on to the barn in time for the supper, you may be sure of that. Why do you ask?" "I will have the supper served at ten o'clock," he continued to whisper, "but I'll not sit down to it. Not without you." "Don't be foolish, B la," she retorted. But even as he spoke, a little gleam of satisfaction, of gratified vanity, of anticipatory revenge, shot through her velvety dark eyes. "I warned Elsa," he continued sullenly; "I told her that if you were not at the feast, I should not be there either. She has disobeyed me. I must punish her." "So?" she rejoined, with an acid smile. "It is only in order to punish Elsa that you want to sup with me?" "Don't be stupid, Klara," he retorted. "I'll come at ten o'clock. Will you have some supper ready for me then? I have two or three bottles of French champagne over at my house--I'll bring them along. Will you be ready for me?" "Be silent, B la," she broke in hurriedly. "Can't you see that that fool Leo is watching us all the time?" "Curse, him! What have I got to do with him?" muttered B la savagely. "You will be ready for me, Klara?" "No!" she said decisively. "Better make your peace with Elsa. I'll have none of her leavings. I've had all I wanted out of you to-day--the banquet first and now your coming here. . . . It'll be all over the village presently--and that's all I care about. Have a drink now," she added good-humouredly, "and then go and make your peace with Elsa . . . if you can." She turned abruptly away from him, leaving him to murmur curses under his breath, and went on attending to her customers; nor did he get for the moment another opportunity of speaking with her, for Leopold Hirsch hovered round her for some considerable time after that, and presently, with much noise and pomp and circumstance, no less a personage than the noble young Count himself graced the premises of Ign cz Goldstein the Jew with his august presence. CHAPTER XIX "Now go and fetch the key." He belonged to the ancient family of R kosy, who had owned property on both banks of the Maros for the past eight centuries, and Feri R kosy, the twentieth-century representative of his medi val forbears, was a good-looking young fellow of the type so often met with among the upper classes in Hungary: quite something English in appearance--well set-up, well-dressed, well-groomed from the top of his smooth brown hair to the tips of his immaculately-shod feet--in the eyes an expression of habitual boredom, further accentuated by the slight, affected stoop of the shoulders and a few premature lines round the nose and mouth; and about his whole personality that air of high-breeding and of good, pure blood which is one of the chief characteristics of the true Hungarian aristocracy. He did little more than acknowledge the respectful salutations which greeted him from every corner of the little room as he entered, but he nodded to Er s B la and smiled all over his good-looking face at Klara, who, in her turn, welcomed him with a profusion of smiles which brought a volley of muttered curses to Leopold Hirsch's lips. While he held her one hand rather longer than was necessary she, with the other, took his hat from him, and then, laughing coquettishly, she pointed to a parcel which was causing the pocket of his well-cut Norfolk jacket to bulge immoderately. "Is that something for me?" she asked. "Of course it is," he replied lightly; "I bought it at the fair in Arad for you to-day." "How thoughtful of you!" she said, with a little sigh of pleasure. "Thoughtful?" he retorted, laughing pleasantly. "My good Klara, if I hadn't thought of you I would have died of boredom this afternoon. Here, give me a glass of your father's best wine and I'll tell you." He sat down with easy familiarity on the corner of the table which served as a counter. Klara, after this, had eyes and ears only for him. How could it be otherwise, seeing that it was not often a noble lord graced a village tap-room with his presence. Conversations round the room were now carried on in whispers; tarok cards were produced and here and there a game was in progress. Those who had drunk overmuch made themselves as inconspicuous as they could, drawing themselves closely against the wall, or frankly reclining across the table with arms outstretched and heads buried between them out of sight. An atmosphere of subdued animation and decorum reigned in the place; not a few men, oppressed by their sense of respect for my lord, had effected a quiet exit through the door, preferring the jovial atmosphere of the barn, from whence came, during certain hushed moments, the sounds of music and of laughter. The young man--whose presence caused all this revulsion in the usually noisy atmosphere of the tap-room--took no heed whatever of anything that went on around him: he seemed unconscious alike of the deference of the peasants as of the dark, menacing scowl with which Leopold Hirsch regarded him. He certainly did not bestow a single glance on Er s B la who, at my lord's appearance, had retreated into the very darkest corner of the room. B la did not care to encounter the young Count's sneering remarks just now--and these would of a certainty have been levelled against the bridegroom who was sitting in a tap-room when he should have been in attendance on his bride. But indeed my lord never saw him. To this young scion of a noble race, which had owned land and serfs for centuries past, these peasants here were of no more account than his oxen or his sheep--nor was the owner of a village shop of any more consequence in my lord's eyes. He came here because there was a good-looking Jewess in the tap-room whose conversation amused him, and whose dark, velvety eyes, fringed with long lashes, and mouth with full, red lips, stirred his jaded senses in a more pleasant and more decided way than did the eyes and lips of the demure, well-bred young Countesses and Baronesses who formed his usual social circle. Whether his flirtation with Klara, the Jewess, annoyed the girl's Jew lover or not, did not matter to him one jot; on the contrary the jealousy of that dirty lout Hirsch enhanced his amusement to a considerable extent. Therefore he did not take the trouble to lower his voice now when he talked to Klara, and it was quite openly that he put his arm round her waist while he held his glass to her lips--"To sweeten your father's vinegar!" he said with a laugh. "You know, my pretty Klara," he said gaily, "that I was half afraid I shouldn't see you to-day at all." "No?" she asked coquettishly. "No, by gad! My father was so soft-hearted to allow Er s a day off for his wedding or something, and so, if you please, I had to go to Arad with him, as he had to see about a sale of clover. I thought we should never get back. The roads were abominable." "I hardly expected your lordship," she said demurely. To punish her for that little lie, he tweaked her small ear till it became a bright crimson. "That is to punish you for telling such a lie," he said gaily. "You know that I meant to come and say good-bye." "Your lordship goes to-morrow?" she asked with a sigh. "To shoot bears, my pretty Klara," he replied. "I don't want to go. I would rather stay another week here for you to amuse me, you know." "I am proud . . ." she whispered. "So much do you amuse me that I have brought you a present, just to show you that I thought of you to-day and because I want you not to forget me during the three months that I shall be gone." He drew the parcel out of his pocket and, turning his back to the rest of the room, he cut the string and undid the paper that wrapped it. The contents of the parcel proved to be a morocco case, which flew open at a touch and displayed a gold curb chain bracelet--the dream of Klara Goldstein's desires. "For me?" she said, with a gasp of delight. "For your pretty arm, yes," he replied. "Shall I put it on?" She cast a swift, apprehensive glance round the room over his shoulder. "No, no, not now," she said quickly. "Why not?" "Father mightn't like it. I'd have to ask him." "D----n your father!" "And that fool, Leopold, is so insanely jealous." "D----n him too," said the young man quietly. Whereupon he took the morocco case out of Klara's hand, shut it with a snap and put it back into his pocket. "What are you doing?" cried Klara in a fright. "As you see, pretty one, I am putting the bracelet away for future use." "But . . ." she stammered. "If I can't put the bracelet on your arm myself," he said decisively, "you shan't have it at all." "But . . ." "That is my last word. Let us talk of something else." "No, no! We won't talk of something else. You said the bracelet was for me." She cast a languishing look on him through her long upper lashes; she bared her wrist and held it out to him. Leopold and his jealousy might go hang for aught she cared, for she meant to have the bracelet. The young man, with a fatuous little laugh, brought out the case once more. With his own hands he now fastened the bracelet round Klara Goldstein's wrist. Then--as a matter of course--he kissed her round, brown arm just above the bracelet, and also the red lips through which the words of thanks came quickly tumbling. Klara did not dare to look across the room. She felt, though she did not see, Leopold's pale eyes watching this little scene with a glow in them of ferocious hate and of almost animal rage. "I won't stay now, Klara," said the young Count, dropping his voice suddenly to a whisper; "too many of these louts about. When will you be free?" "Oh, not to-day," she whispered in reply. "After the fair there are sure to be late-comers. And you know Er s B la has a ball on at the barn and supper afterwards. . . ." "The very thing," he broke in, in an eager whisper. "While they are all at supper, I'll come in for a drink and a chat. . . . Ten o'clock, eh?" "Oh, no, no!" she protested feebly. "My father wouldn't like it, he . . ." "D----n your father, my dear, as I remarked before. And, as a matter of fact, your father is not going to be in the way at all. He goes to Kecskem t by the night train." "How do you know that?" "My father told me quite casually that Goldstein was seeing to some business for him at Kecskem t to-morrow. So it was not very difficult to guess that if your father was to be in Kecskem t to-morrow in time to transact business, he would have to travel up by the nine o'clock train this evening in order to get there." Then, as she made no reply, and a blush of pleasure gradually suffused her dark skin, lending it additional charm and giving to her eyes added brilliancy, he continued, more peremptorily this time: "At ten o'clock, then--I'll come back. Get rid of as many of these louts by then as you can." She was only too ready to yield. Not only was she hugely flattered by my lord's attentions, but she found him excessively attractive. He could make himself very agreeable to a woman if he chose, and evidently he chose to do so now. Moreover Klara had found by previous experience that to yield to the young man's varied and varying caprices was always remunerative, and there was that gold watch which he had once vaguely promised her, and which she knew she could get out of him if she had the time and opportunity, as she certainly would have to-night if he came. Count Feri, seeing that she had all but yielded, was preparing to go. Her hand was still in his, and he was pressing her slender fingers in token of a pledge for this evening. "At ten o'clock," he whispered again. "No, no," she protested once more, but this time he must have known that she only did it for form's sake and really meant to let him have his way. "The neighbours would see you enter, and there might be a whole lot of people in the tap-room at that hour: one never knows. They would know by then that my father had gone away and they would talk such scandal about me. My reputation . . ." No doubt he felt inclined to ejaculate in his usual manner: "D----n your reputation!" but he thought better of it, and merely said casually: "I need not come in by the front door, need I?" "The back door is always locked," she remarked ingenuously. "My father invariably locks it himself the last thing at night." "But since he is going to Kecskem t . . ." he suggested. "When he has to be away from home for the night he locks the door from the inside and takes the key away with him." "Surely there is a duplicate key somewhere? . . ." "I don't know," she murmured. "If you don't know, who should?" he remarked, with affected indifference. "Well! I shall have to make myself heard at the back door--that's all!" "How?" "Wouldn't you hear me if I knocked?" "Not if I were in the tap-room and a lot of customers to attend to." "Well, then, I should hammer away until you did hear me." "For that old gossip R zi to hear you," she protested. "Her cottage is not fifty paces away from our back door." "Then it will have to be the front door, after all," he rejoined philosophically. "No, no!--the neighbours--and perhaps the tap-room full of people." "But d----n it, Klara," he exclaimed impatiently, "I have made up my mind to come and spend my last evening with you--and when I have made up my mind to a thing, I am not likely to change it because of a lot of gossiping peasants, because of old R zi, or the whole lot of them. So if you don't want me to come in by the front door, which is open, or to knock at the back door, which is locked, how am I going to get in?" "I don't know." "Well, then, you'll have to find out, my pretty one," he said decisively, "for it has got to be done somehow, or that gold watch we spoke of the other day will have to go to somebody else. And you know when I say a thing I mean it. Eh?" "There is a duplicate key," she whispered shyly, ". . . to the back door, I mean." "I thought there was," he remarked dryly. "Where is it?" "In the next room. . . . It hangs on a nail by father's bedside." "Go and get it, then," he said more impatiently. "Not now," she urged. "Leopold is looking straight at you and me." He shrugged his aristocratic shoulders. "You are not afraid of that monkey?" he said with a laugh. "Well, no! not exactly afraid. But he is so insanely jealous; one never knows what kind of mischief he'll get into. He told me just now that whenever father is away from home he takes his stand outside this house from nightfall till morning--watching!" "A modern Argus--eh?" "A modern lunatic!" she retorted. "Well!" resumed the young man lightly, "lunatic or not, he won't be able to keep an eye on you to-night, even though your father will be away." "How do you mean?" "Hirsch is off to

wo

How many times the word 'wo' appears in the text?

ticked off on her long, pointed fingers the last bevy of her admirers on whom she might reasonably count: the son of the chemist over in Arad, the tenant of the Kender Road farm, the proprietor of the station cabs, and there were two or three others; but they were certainly falling away, and she had added no new ones to her list these past six months. Er s B la's formally declared engagement to Kapus Elsa had been a very severe blow. She had really reckoned on B la. He was educated and unconventional, and though he professed the usual anti-Semitic views peculiar to his kind, Klara did not believe that these were very genuine. At any rate, she had reckoned that her fine eyes and provocative ways would tilt successfully against the man's racial prejudices. Er s B la was rich and certainly, up to a point, in love with her. Klara was congratulating herself on the way she was playing her matrimonial cards, when all her hopes were so suddenly dashed to the ground. B la was going to marry that silly, ignorant peasant girl, and she, Klara, would be left to marry Leopold after all. Her anger and humiliation had been very great, and she had battled very persistently and very ably to regain the prize which she had lost. She knew quite well that, but for the fact that she belonged to the alien and despised race, Er s B la would have been only too happy to marry her. His vanity alone had made him choose Kapus Elsa. He wanted the noted beauty for himself, because the noted beauty had been courted by so many people, and where so many people had failed he was proud to succeed. Nor would he have cared to have it said that he had married a Jewess. There is always a certain thought of disgrace attached to such a marriage, whether it has been contracted by peer or peasant, and Er s B la's one dominating idea in life was to keep the respect and deference of his native village. But he had continued his attentions to Klara, and Klara had kept a wonderful hold over his imagination and over his will. She was the one woman who had ever had her will with him--only partially, of course, and not to the extent of forcing him into matrimony--but sufficiently to keep him also dangling round her skirts even though his whole allegiance should have belonged to Elsa. The banquet this afternoon had been a veritable triumph. Whatever she had suffered through B la's final disloyalty to herself, she knew that Kapus Elsa must have suffered all through the banquet. The humiliation of seeing one's bridegroom openly flaunting his admiration for another woman must have been indeed very bitter to bear. Not for a moment did Klara Goldstein doubt that the subsequent scene was an act of vengeance against herself on Elsa's part. She judged other women by her own standard, discounted other women's emotions, thoughts, feelings, by her own. She thought it quite natural that Elsa should wish to be revenged, just as she was quite sure that B la was already meditating some kind of retaliation for the shame which Andor had put upon him and for Elsa's obstinacy and share in the matter. She had not spoken to anyone of the little scene which had occurred between the four walls of the little schoolroom: on the contrary she had spoken loudly of both the bridegroom's and the bride's cordiality to her during the banquet. "Elsa wanted me to go to the dancing this evening," she said casually, "but I thought you would all miss me. I didn't want this place to be dull just because half the village is enjoying itself somewhere else." It had been market day at Arad, and at about five o'clock Klara and her father became very busy. Cattle-dealers and pig-merchants, travellers and pedlars, dropped in for a glass of silvorium and a chat with the good-looking Jewess. More than one bargain, discussed on the marketplace of Arad, was concluded in the stuffy tap-room of Marosfalva. "Shall we be honoured by the young Count's presence later on?" someone asked, with a significant nod to Klara. Everyone laughed in sympathy; the admiration of the noble young Count for Klara Goldstein was well-known. There was nothing in it, of course; even Klara, vain and ambitious as she was, knew that the bridge which divided the aristocrat from one of her kind and of her race was an impassable one. But she liked the young Count's attentions--she liked the presents he brought her from time to time, and relished the notoriety which this flirtation gave her. She also loved to tease poor Leopold Hirsch. Leo had been passionately in love with her for years; what he must have endured in moral and mental torture during that time through his jealousy and often groundless suspicions no one who did not know him intimately could ever have guessed. These tortures which Klara wantonly inflicted upon the wretched young man had been a constant source of amusement to her. Even now she was delighted because, as luck would have it, he entered the tap-room at the very moment when everyone was chaffing her about the young Count. Leopold Hirsch cast a quick, suspicious glance upon the girl, and his dull olive skin assumed an almost greenish hue. He was not of prepossessing appearance; this he knew himself, and the knowledge helped to keep his jealousy and his suspicion aflame. He was short and lean of stature and his head, with its large, bony features, seemed too big for his narrow shoulders to carry. His ginger-coloured hair was lank and scanty; he wore it--after the manner of those of his race in that part of the world--in corkscrew ringlets down each side of his narrow, cadaverous-looking face. His eyes were pale and shifty, but every now and then there shot into them a curious gleam of unbridled passion--love, hate or revenge; and then the whole face would light up and compel attention by the revelation of latent power. This had happened now when a fellow who sat in the corner by the window made some rough jest about the young Count. Leopold made his way to Klara's side; his thin lips were tightly pressed together, and he had buried his hands in the pockets of his ill-fitting trousers. "If that accursed aristocrat comes hanging round here much more, Klara," he muttered between set teeth, "I'll kill him one of these days." "What a fool you are, Leopold!" she said. "Why, yesterday it was Er s B la you objected to." "And I do still," he retorted. "I heard of your conduct at the banquet to-day. It is the talk of the village. One by one these loutish peasants have come into my shop and told me the tale--curse them!--of how the bridegroom had eyes and ears only for you. You seem to forget, Klara," he added, while a thought of menace crept into his voice, "that you are tokened to me now. So don't try and make a fool of me, or . . ." "The Lord bless you, my good man," she retorted, with a laugh, "I won't try, I promise you. I wouldn't like to compete with the Almighty, who has done that for you already." "Klara . . ." he exclaimed. "Oh! be quiet now, Leo," she said impatiently. "Can't you see that my hands are as full as I can manage, without my having to bother about you and your jealous tempers?" She elbowed him aside and went to the counter to serve a customer who had just arrived, and more than a quarter of an hour went by before Leopold had the chance of another word with her. "You might have a kind word for me to-night, Klara," he said ruefully, as soon as a brief lull in business enabled him to approach the girl. "Why specially to-night?" she asked indifferently. "Your father must go by the night train to Kecskem t," he said, with seeming irrelevance. "There is that business about the plums." "The plums?" she asked, with a frown of puzzlement, "what plums?" "The fruit he bought near Kecskem t. They start gathering at sunrise to-morrow. He must be there the first hour, else he'd get shamefully robbed. He must travel by night." "I knew nothing about it," rejoined Klara, with an indifferent shrug of the shoulders. "Father never tells me when he is going to be away from home." "No!" retorted Leopold, with a sneer, "he knows better than to give all your gallants such a brilliant opportunity." "Don't be a fool, Leo!" she reiterated with a laugh. "I don't give any of them an opportunity, either," resumed the young man, while a curious look of almost animal ferocity crept into his pale face. "Whenever your father has to be away from home during the night, I take up my position outside this house and watch over you until daylight comes and people begin to come and go." "Very thoughtful of you, my good Leo," she rejoined dryly, "but you need not give yourself the trouble. I am well able to look after myself." "If any man molested you," continued Leopold, speaking very calmly, "I would kill him." "Who should molest me, you silly fool? And anyhow, I won't have you spying upon me like that." "You must not call it spying, Klara. I love to stand outside this house in the peace and darkness of the night, and to think of you quietly sleeping whilst I am keeping watch over you. You wouldn't call a watchdog a spy, would you?" "I know that to-night I shan't sleep a wink," she retorted crossly, "once father has gone. I shall always be thinking of you out there in the dark, watching this house. It will make me nervous." "To-night . . ." he began, and then abruptly checked himself. Once more that quick flash of passion shot through his pale, deep-set eyes. It seemed as if he meant to tell her something, which on second thoughts he decided to keep to himself. Her keen, dark eyes searched his face for a moment or two; she wondered what it was that lurked behind that high, smooth forehead of his and within the depths of that curiously perverted brain. Before she had time, however, to question him, Er s B la made noisy irruption into the room. He was greeted with a storm of cheers. "Hello, B la!" "Not the bridegroom, surely?" "Who would have thought of seeing you here?" While Leopold Hirsch muttered audibly: "What devil's mischief has brought this fellow here to-day, I wonder?" B la seemed in boisterous good-humour--with somewhat ostentatious hilarity he greeted all his friends, and then ordered some of Ign cz Goldstein's best wine for everybody all round. "Bravo, B la!" came from every side, together with loud applause at this unexpected liberality. "It is nice of you not to forget old friends," Klara whispered in his ear, as soon as he succeeded in reaching her side. "Whew!" he ejaculated with a sneer, "you have no idea, my good Klara, how I've been boring myself these past two hours. Those loutish peasants have no idea of enjoyment save their eternal gipsy music and their interminable cs rd s." "For a man of your education, B la," said Klara, with an insinuating smile, "it must be odiously dull. You would far rather have had a game of cards, wouldn't you now?" "I would far rather have had you at that infernal dance, so as to have had somebody to talk to," he retorted savagely. "Oh!" she said demurely, "that would never have done. Elsa must have such a lot to say to you herself. It would not be seemly for me to stand in the way." "Elsa, as you know, has that silly cs rd s on the brain. She has been dancing ever since six o'clock and has only given me about ten minutes of her company. She seems to belong to-night to every young fool that can dance, rather than to me." "Ah well! When you are married you can stop all that, my good B la. You can forbid your wife to dance the cs rd s, you know. I know many men who do it. Then Elsa will learn to appreciate the pleasure of your conversation. Though she is no longer very young, she is still very ignorant. You will have to educate her . . . bring her up to your own level of intelligence and of learning. In the meanwhile, do sit down and drink with those who, like yourself, have come here for an hour or two to break the monotony of perpetual czig ny music and dancing." She busied herself with drawing the corks of a number of bottles, which she then transferred from the end of the room where she stood to the tables at which sat her customers; she also brought out some fresh glasses. B la watched her for a moment or two in silence, unconscious of the fact that he, too, was being watched by a pair of pale eyes in which lurked a gleam of jealousy and of hate. Suddenly, as Klara brushed past him carrying bottles and glasses, he took hold of her by the elbow and drew her close to him. "These louts won't stay late to-night, will they?" he whispered in her ear. "No, not late," she replied; "they will go on to the barn in time for the supper, you may be sure of that. Why do you ask?" "I will have the supper served at ten o'clock," he continued to whisper, "but I'll not sit down to it. Not without you." "Don't be foolish, B la," she retorted. But even as he spoke, a little gleam of satisfaction, of gratified vanity, of anticipatory revenge, shot through her velvety dark eyes. "I warned Elsa," he continued sullenly; "I told her that if you were not at the feast, I should not be there either. She has disobeyed me. I must punish her." "So?" she rejoined, with an acid smile. "It is only in order to punish Elsa that you want to sup with me?" "Don't be stupid, Klara," he retorted. "I'll come at ten o'clock. Will you have some supper ready for me then? I have two or three bottles of French champagne over at my house--I'll bring them along. Will you be ready for me?" "Be silent, B la," she broke in hurriedly. "Can't you see that that fool Leo is watching us all the time?" "Curse, him! What have I got to do with him?" muttered B la savagely. "You will be ready for me, Klara?" "No!" she said decisively. "Better make your peace with Elsa. I'll have none of her leavings. I've had all I wanted out of you to-day--the banquet first and now your coming here. . . . It'll be all over the village presently--and that's all I care about. Have a drink now," she added good-humouredly, "and then go and make your peace with Elsa . . . if you can." She turned abruptly away from him, leaving him to murmur curses under his breath, and went on attending to her customers; nor did he get for the moment another opportunity of speaking with her, for Leopold Hirsch hovered round her for some considerable time after that, and presently, with much noise and pomp and circumstance, no less a personage than the noble young Count himself graced the premises of Ign cz Goldstein the Jew with his august presence. CHAPTER XIX "Now go and fetch the key." He belonged to the ancient family of R kosy, who had owned property on both banks of the Maros for the past eight centuries, and Feri R kosy, the twentieth-century representative of his medi val forbears, was a good-looking young fellow of the type so often met with among the upper classes in Hungary: quite something English in appearance--well set-up, well-dressed, well-groomed from the top of his smooth brown hair to the tips of his immaculately-shod feet--in the eyes an expression of habitual boredom, further accentuated by the slight, affected stoop of the shoulders and a few premature lines round the nose and mouth; and about his whole personality that air of high-breeding and of good, pure blood which is one of the chief characteristics of the true Hungarian aristocracy. He did little more than acknowledge the respectful salutations which greeted him from every corner of the little room as he entered, but he nodded to Er s B la and smiled all over his good-looking face at Klara, who, in her turn, welcomed him with a profusion of smiles which brought a volley of muttered curses to Leopold Hirsch's lips. While he held her one hand rather longer than was necessary she, with the other, took his hat from him, and then, laughing coquettishly, she pointed to a parcel which was causing the pocket of his well-cut Norfolk jacket to bulge immoderately. "Is that something for me?" she asked. "Of course it is," he replied lightly; "I bought it at the fair in Arad for you to-day." "How thoughtful of you!" she said, with a little sigh of pleasure. "Thoughtful?" he retorted, laughing pleasantly. "My good Klara, if I hadn't thought of you I would have died of boredom this afternoon. Here, give me a glass of your father's best wine and I'll tell you." He sat down with easy familiarity on the corner of the table which served as a counter. Klara, after this, had eyes and ears only for him. How could it be otherwise, seeing that it was not often a noble lord graced a village tap-room with his presence. Conversations round the room were now carried on in whispers; tarok cards were produced and here and there a game was in progress. Those who had drunk overmuch made themselves as inconspicuous as they could, drawing themselves closely against the wall, or frankly reclining across the table with arms outstretched and heads buried between them out of sight. An atmosphere of subdued animation and decorum reigned in the place; not a few men, oppressed by their sense of respect for my lord, had effected a quiet exit through the door, preferring the jovial atmosphere of the barn, from whence came, during certain hushed moments, the sounds of music and of laughter. The young man--whose presence caused all this revulsion in the usually noisy atmosphere of the tap-room--took no heed whatever of anything that went on around him: he seemed unconscious alike of the deference of the peasants as of the dark, menacing scowl with which Leopold Hirsch regarded him. He certainly did not bestow a single glance on Er s B la who, at my lord's appearance, had retreated into the very darkest corner of the room. B la did not care to encounter the young Count's sneering remarks just now--and these would of a certainty have been levelled against the bridegroom who was sitting in a tap-room when he should have been in attendance on his bride. But indeed my lord never saw him. To this young scion of a noble race, which had owned land and serfs for centuries past, these peasants here were of no more account than his oxen or his sheep--nor was the owner of a village shop of any more consequence in my lord's eyes. He came here because there was a good-looking Jewess in the tap-room whose conversation amused him, and whose dark, velvety eyes, fringed with long lashes, and mouth with full, red lips, stirred his jaded senses in a more pleasant and more decided way than did the eyes and lips of the demure, well-bred young Countesses and Baronesses who formed his usual social circle. Whether his flirtation with Klara, the Jewess, annoyed the girl's Jew lover or not, did not matter to him one jot; on the contrary the jealousy of that dirty lout Hirsch enhanced his amusement to a considerable extent. Therefore he did not take the trouble to lower his voice now when he talked to Klara, and it was quite openly that he put his arm round her waist while he held his glass to her lips--"To sweeten your father's vinegar!" he said with a laugh. "You know, my pretty Klara," he said gaily, "that I was half afraid I shouldn't see you to-day at all." "No?" she asked coquettishly. "No, by gad! My father was so soft-hearted to allow Er s a day off for his wedding or something, and so, if you please, I had to go to Arad with him, as he had to see about a sale of clover. I thought we should never get back. The roads were abominable." "I hardly expected your lordship," she said demurely. To punish her for that little lie, he tweaked her small ear till it became a bright crimson. "That is to punish you for telling such a lie," he said gaily. "You know that I meant to come and say good-bye." "Your lordship goes to-morrow?" she asked with a sigh. "To shoot bears, my pretty Klara," he replied. "I don't want to go. I would rather stay another week here for you to amuse me, you know." "I am proud . . ." she whispered. "So much do you amuse me that I have brought you a present, just to show you that I thought of you to-day and because I want you not to forget me during the three months that I shall be gone." He drew the parcel out of his pocket and, turning his back to the rest of the room, he cut the string and undid the paper that wrapped it. The contents of the parcel proved to be a morocco case, which flew open at a touch and displayed a gold curb chain bracelet--the dream of Klara Goldstein's desires. "For me?" she said, with a gasp of delight. "For your pretty arm, yes," he replied. "Shall I put it on?" She cast a swift, apprehensive glance round the room over his shoulder. "No, no, not now," she said quickly. "Why not?" "Father mightn't like it. I'd have to ask him." "D----n your father!" "And that fool, Leopold, is so insanely jealous." "D----n him too," said the young man quietly. Whereupon he took the morocco case out of Klara's hand, shut it with a snap and put it back into his pocket. "What are you doing?" cried Klara in a fright. "As you see, pretty one, I am putting the bracelet away for future use." "But . . ." she stammered. "If I can't put the bracelet on your arm myself," he said decisively, "you shan't have it at all." "But . . ." "That is my last word. Let us talk of something else." "No, no! We won't talk of something else. You said the bracelet was for me." She cast a languishing look on him through her long upper lashes; she bared her wrist and held it out to him. Leopold and his jealousy might go hang for aught she cared, for she meant to have the bracelet. The young man, with a fatuous little laugh, brought out the case once more. With his own hands he now fastened the bracelet round Klara Goldstein's wrist. Then--as a matter of course--he kissed her round, brown arm just above the bracelet, and also the red lips through which the words of thanks came quickly tumbling. Klara did not dare to look across the room. She felt, though she did not see, Leopold's pale eyes watching this little scene with a glow in them of ferocious hate and of almost animal rage. "I won't stay now, Klara," said the young Count, dropping his voice suddenly to a whisper; "too many of these louts about. When will you be free?" "Oh, not to-day," she whispered in reply. "After the fair there are sure to be late-comers. And you know Er s B la has a ball on at the barn and supper afterwards. . . ." "The very thing," he broke in, in an eager whisper. "While they are all at supper, I'll come in for a drink and a chat. . . . Ten o'clock, eh?" "Oh, no, no!" she protested feebly. "My father wouldn't like it, he . . ." "D----n your father, my dear, as I remarked before. And, as a matter of fact, your father is not going to be in the way at all. He goes to Kecskem t by the night train." "How do you know that?" "My father told me quite casually that Goldstein was seeing to some business for him at Kecskem t to-morrow. So it was not very difficult to guess that if your father was to be in Kecskem t to-morrow in time to transact business, he would have to travel up by the nine o'clock train this evening in order to get there." Then, as she made no reply, and a blush of pleasure gradually suffused her dark skin, lending it additional charm and giving to her eyes added brilliancy, he continued, more peremptorily this time: "At ten o'clock, then--I'll come back. Get rid of as many of these louts by then as you can." She was only too ready to yield. Not only was she hugely flattered by my lord's attentions, but she found him excessively attractive. He could make himself very agreeable to a woman if he chose, and evidently he chose to do so now. Moreover Klara had found by previous experience that to yield to the young man's varied and varying caprices was always remunerative, and there was that gold watch which he had once vaguely promised her, and which she knew she could get out of him if she had the time and opportunity, as she certainly would have to-night if he came. Count Feri, seeing that she had all but yielded, was preparing to go. Her hand was still in his, and he was pressing her slender fingers in token of a pledge for this evening. "At ten o'clock," he whispered again. "No, no," she protested once more, but this time he must have known that she only did it for form's sake and really meant to let him have his way. "The neighbours would see you enter, and there might be a whole lot of people in the tap-room at that hour: one never knows. They would know by then that my father had gone away and they would talk such scandal about me. My reputation . . ." No doubt he felt inclined to ejaculate in his usual manner: "D----n your reputation!" but he thought better of it, and merely said casually: "I need not come in by the front door, need I?" "The back door is always locked," she remarked ingenuously. "My father invariably locks it himself the last thing at night." "But since he is going to Kecskem t . . ." he suggested. "When he has to be away from home for the night he locks the door from the inside and takes the key away with him." "Surely there is a duplicate key somewhere? . . ." "I don't know," she murmured. "If you don't know, who should?" he remarked, with affected indifference. "Well! I shall have to make myself heard at the back door--that's all!" "How?" "Wouldn't you hear me if I knocked?" "Not if I were in the tap-room and a lot of customers to attend to." "Well, then, I should hammer away until you did hear me." "For that old gossip R zi to hear you," she protested. "Her cottage is not fifty paces away from our back door." "Then it will have to be the front door, after all," he rejoined philosophically. "No, no!--the neighbours--and perhaps the tap-room full of people." "But d----n it, Klara," he exclaimed impatiently, "I have made up my mind to come and spend my last evening with you--and when I have made up my mind to a thing, I am not likely to change it because of a lot of gossiping peasants, because of old R zi, or the whole lot of them. So if you don't want me to come in by the front door, which is open, or to knock at the back door, which is locked, how am I going to get in?" "I don't know." "Well, then, you'll have to find out, my pretty one," he said decisively, "for it has got to be done somehow, or that gold watch we spoke of the other day will have to go to somebody else. And you know when I say a thing I mean it. Eh?" "There is a duplicate key," she whispered shyly, ". . . to the back door, I mean." "I thought there was," he remarked dryly. "Where is it?" "In the next room. . . . It hangs on a nail by father's bedside." "Go and get it, then," he said more impatiently. "Not now," she urged. "Leopold is looking straight at you and me." He shrugged his aristocratic shoulders. "You are not afraid of that monkey?" he said with a laugh. "Well, no! not exactly afraid. But he is so insanely jealous; one never knows what kind of mischief he'll get into. He told me just now that whenever father is away from home he takes his stand outside this house from nightfall till morning--watching!" "A modern Argus--eh?" "A modern lunatic!" she retorted. "Well!" resumed the young man lightly, "lunatic or not, he won't be able to keep an eye on you to-night, even though your father will be away." "How do you mean?" "Hirsch is off to

three

How many times the word 'three' appears in the text?

ticked off on her long, pointed fingers the last bevy of her admirers on whom she might reasonably count: the son of the chemist over in Arad, the tenant of the Kender Road farm, the proprietor of the station cabs, and there were two or three others; but they were certainly falling away, and she had added no new ones to her list these past six months. Er s B la's formally declared engagement to Kapus Elsa had been a very severe blow. She had really reckoned on B la. He was educated and unconventional, and though he professed the usual anti-Semitic views peculiar to his kind, Klara did not believe that these were very genuine. At any rate, she had reckoned that her fine eyes and provocative ways would tilt successfully against the man's racial prejudices. Er s B la was rich and certainly, up to a point, in love with her. Klara was congratulating herself on the way she was playing her matrimonial cards, when all her hopes were so suddenly dashed to the ground. B la was going to marry that silly, ignorant peasant girl, and she, Klara, would be left to marry Leopold after all. Her anger and humiliation had been very great, and she had battled very persistently and very ably to regain the prize which she had lost. She knew quite well that, but for the fact that she belonged to the alien and despised race, Er s B la would have been only too happy to marry her. His vanity alone had made him choose Kapus Elsa. He wanted the noted beauty for himself, because the noted beauty had been courted by so many people, and where so many people had failed he was proud to succeed. Nor would he have cared to have it said that he had married a Jewess. There is always a certain thought of disgrace attached to such a marriage, whether it has been contracted by peer or peasant, and Er s B la's one dominating idea in life was to keep the respect and deference of his native village. But he had continued his attentions to Klara, and Klara had kept a wonderful hold over his imagination and over his will. She was the one woman who had ever had her will with him--only partially, of course, and not to the extent of forcing him into matrimony--but sufficiently to keep him also dangling round her skirts even though his whole allegiance should have belonged to Elsa. The banquet this afternoon had been a veritable triumph. Whatever she had suffered through B la's final disloyalty to herself, she knew that Kapus Elsa must have suffered all through the banquet. The humiliation of seeing one's bridegroom openly flaunting his admiration for another woman must have been indeed very bitter to bear. Not for a moment did Klara Goldstein doubt that the subsequent scene was an act of vengeance against herself on Elsa's part. She judged other women by her own standard, discounted other women's emotions, thoughts, feelings, by her own. She thought it quite natural that Elsa should wish to be revenged, just as she was quite sure that B la was already meditating some kind of retaliation for the shame which Andor had put upon him and for Elsa's obstinacy and share in the matter. She had not spoken to anyone of the little scene which had occurred between the four walls of the little schoolroom: on the contrary she had spoken loudly of both the bridegroom's and the bride's cordiality to her during the banquet. "Elsa wanted me to go to the dancing this evening," she said casually, "but I thought you would all miss me. I didn't want this place to be dull just because half the village is enjoying itself somewhere else." It had been market day at Arad, and at about five o'clock Klara and her father became very busy. Cattle-dealers and pig-merchants, travellers and pedlars, dropped in for a glass of silvorium and a chat with the good-looking Jewess. More than one bargain, discussed on the marketplace of Arad, was concluded in the stuffy tap-room of Marosfalva. "Shall we be honoured by the young Count's presence later on?" someone asked, with a significant nod to Klara. Everyone laughed in sympathy; the admiration of the noble young Count for Klara Goldstein was well-known. There was nothing in it, of course; even Klara, vain and ambitious as she was, knew that the bridge which divided the aristocrat from one of her kind and of her race was an impassable one. But she liked the young Count's attentions--she liked the presents he brought her from time to time, and relished the notoriety which this flirtation gave her. She also loved to tease poor Leopold Hirsch. Leo had been passionately in love with her for years; what he must have endured in moral and mental torture during that time through his jealousy and often groundless suspicions no one who did not know him intimately could ever have guessed. These tortures which Klara wantonly inflicted upon the wretched young man had been a constant source of amusement to her. Even now she was delighted because, as luck would have it, he entered the tap-room at the very moment when everyone was chaffing her about the young Count. Leopold Hirsch cast a quick, suspicious glance upon the girl, and his dull olive skin assumed an almost greenish hue. He was not of prepossessing appearance; this he knew himself, and the knowledge helped to keep his jealousy and his suspicion aflame. He was short and lean of stature and his head, with its large, bony features, seemed too big for his narrow shoulders to carry. His ginger-coloured hair was lank and scanty; he wore it--after the manner of those of his race in that part of the world--in corkscrew ringlets down each side of his narrow, cadaverous-looking face. His eyes were pale and shifty, but every now and then there shot into them a curious gleam of unbridled passion--love, hate or revenge; and then the whole face would light up and compel attention by the revelation of latent power. This had happened now when a fellow who sat in the corner by the window made some rough jest about the young Count. Leopold made his way to Klara's side; his thin lips were tightly pressed together, and he had buried his hands in the pockets of his ill-fitting trousers. "If that accursed aristocrat comes hanging round here much more, Klara," he muttered between set teeth, "I'll kill him one of these days." "What a fool you are, Leopold!" she said. "Why, yesterday it was Er s B la you objected to." "And I do still," he retorted. "I heard of your conduct at the banquet to-day. It is the talk of the village. One by one these loutish peasants have come into my shop and told me the tale--curse them!--of how the bridegroom had eyes and ears only for you. You seem to forget, Klara," he added, while a thought of menace crept into his voice, "that you are tokened to me now. So don't try and make a fool of me, or . . ." "The Lord bless you, my good man," she retorted, with a laugh, "I won't try, I promise you. I wouldn't like to compete with the Almighty, who has done that for you already." "Klara . . ." he exclaimed. "Oh! be quiet now, Leo," she said impatiently. "Can't you see that my hands are as full as I can manage, without my having to bother about you and your jealous tempers?" She elbowed him aside and went to the counter to serve a customer who had just arrived, and more than a quarter of an hour went by before Leopold had the chance of another word with her. "You might have a kind word for me to-night, Klara," he said ruefully, as soon as a brief lull in business enabled him to approach the girl. "Why specially to-night?" she asked indifferently. "Your father must go by the night train to Kecskem t," he said, with seeming irrelevance. "There is that business about the plums." "The plums?" she asked, with a frown of puzzlement, "what plums?" "The fruit he bought near Kecskem t. They start gathering at sunrise to-morrow. He must be there the first hour, else he'd get shamefully robbed. He must travel by night." "I knew nothing about it," rejoined Klara, with an indifferent shrug of the shoulders. "Father never tells me when he is going to be away from home." "No!" retorted Leopold, with a sneer, "he knows better than to give all your gallants such a brilliant opportunity." "Don't be a fool, Leo!" she reiterated with a laugh. "I don't give any of them an opportunity, either," resumed the young man, while a curious look of almost animal ferocity crept into his pale face. "Whenever your father has to be away from home during the night, I take up my position outside this house and watch over you until daylight comes and people begin to come and go." "Very thoughtful of you, my good Leo," she rejoined dryly, "but you need not give yourself the trouble. I am well able to look after myself." "If any man molested you," continued Leopold, speaking very calmly, "I would kill him." "Who should molest me, you silly fool? And anyhow, I won't have you spying upon me like that." "You must not call it spying, Klara. I love to stand outside this house in the peace and darkness of the night, and to think of you quietly sleeping whilst I am keeping watch over you. You wouldn't call a watchdog a spy, would you?" "I know that to-night I shan't sleep a wink," she retorted crossly, "once father has gone. I shall always be thinking of you out there in the dark, watching this house. It will make me nervous." "To-night . . ." he began, and then abruptly checked himself. Once more that quick flash of passion shot through his pale, deep-set eyes. It seemed as if he meant to tell her something, which on second thoughts he decided to keep to himself. Her keen, dark eyes searched his face for a moment or two; she wondered what it was that lurked behind that high, smooth forehead of his and within the depths of that curiously perverted brain. Before she had time, however, to question him, Er s B la made noisy irruption into the room. He was greeted with a storm of cheers. "Hello, B la!" "Not the bridegroom, surely?" "Who would have thought of seeing you here?" While Leopold Hirsch muttered audibly: "What devil's mischief has brought this fellow here to-day, I wonder?" B la seemed in boisterous good-humour--with somewhat ostentatious hilarity he greeted all his friends, and then ordered some of Ign cz Goldstein's best wine for everybody all round. "Bravo, B la!" came from every side, together with loud applause at this unexpected liberality. "It is nice of you not to forget old friends," Klara whispered in his ear, as soon as he succeeded in reaching her side. "Whew!" he ejaculated with a sneer, "you have no idea, my good Klara, how I've been boring myself these past two hours. Those loutish peasants have no idea of enjoyment save their eternal gipsy music and their interminable cs rd s." "For a man of your education, B la," said Klara, with an insinuating smile, "it must be odiously dull. You would far rather have had a game of cards, wouldn't you now?" "I would far rather have had you at that infernal dance, so as to have had somebody to talk to," he retorted savagely. "Oh!" she said demurely, "that would never have done. Elsa must have such a lot to say to you herself. It would not be seemly for me to stand in the way." "Elsa, as you know, has that silly cs rd s on the brain. She has been dancing ever since six o'clock and has only given me about ten minutes of her company. She seems to belong to-night to every young fool that can dance, rather than to me." "Ah well! When you are married you can stop all that, my good B la. You can forbid your wife to dance the cs rd s, you know. I know many men who do it. Then Elsa will learn to appreciate the pleasure of your conversation. Though she is no longer very young, she is still very ignorant. You will have to educate her . . . bring her up to your own level of intelligence and of learning. In the meanwhile, do sit down and drink with those who, like yourself, have come here for an hour or two to break the monotony of perpetual czig ny music and dancing." She busied herself with drawing the corks of a number of bottles, which she then transferred from the end of the room where she stood to the tables at which sat her customers; she also brought out some fresh glasses. B la watched her for a moment or two in silence, unconscious of the fact that he, too, was being watched by a pair of pale eyes in which lurked a gleam of jealousy and of hate. Suddenly, as Klara brushed past him carrying bottles and glasses, he took hold of her by the elbow and drew her close to him. "These louts won't stay late to-night, will they?" he whispered in her ear. "No, not late," she replied; "they will go on to the barn in time for the supper, you may be sure of that. Why do you ask?" "I will have the supper served at ten o'clock," he continued to whisper, "but I'll not sit down to it. Not without you." "Don't be foolish, B la," she retorted. But even as he spoke, a little gleam of satisfaction, of gratified vanity, of anticipatory revenge, shot through her velvety dark eyes. "I warned Elsa," he continued sullenly; "I told her that if you were not at the feast, I should not be there either. She has disobeyed me. I must punish her." "So?" she rejoined, with an acid smile. "It is only in order to punish Elsa that you want to sup with me?" "Don't be stupid, Klara," he retorted. "I'll come at ten o'clock. Will you have some supper ready for me then? I have two or three bottles of French champagne over at my house--I'll bring them along. Will you be ready for me?" "Be silent, B la," she broke in hurriedly. "Can't you see that that fool Leo is watching us all the time?" "Curse, him! What have I got to do with him?" muttered B la savagely. "You will be ready for me, Klara?" "No!" she said decisively. "Better make your peace with Elsa. I'll have none of her leavings. I've had all I wanted out of you to-day--the banquet first and now your coming here. . . . It'll be all over the village presently--and that's all I care about. Have a drink now," she added good-humouredly, "and then go and make your peace with Elsa . . . if you can." She turned abruptly away from him, leaving him to murmur curses under his breath, and went on attending to her customers; nor did he get for the moment another opportunity of speaking with her, for Leopold Hirsch hovered round her for some considerable time after that, and presently, with much noise and pomp and circumstance, no less a personage than the noble young Count himself graced the premises of Ign cz Goldstein the Jew with his august presence. CHAPTER XIX "Now go and fetch the key." He belonged to the ancient family of R kosy, who had owned property on both banks of the Maros for the past eight centuries, and Feri R kosy, the twentieth-century representative of his medi val forbears, was a good-looking young fellow of the type so often met with among the upper classes in Hungary: quite something English in appearance--well set-up, well-dressed, well-groomed from the top of his smooth brown hair to the tips of his immaculately-shod feet--in the eyes an expression of habitual boredom, further accentuated by the slight, affected stoop of the shoulders and a few premature lines round the nose and mouth; and about his whole personality that air of high-breeding and of good, pure blood which is one of the chief characteristics of the true Hungarian aristocracy. He did little more than acknowledge the respectful salutations which greeted him from every corner of the little room as he entered, but he nodded to Er s B la and smiled all over his good-looking face at Klara, who, in her turn, welcomed him with a profusion of smiles which brought a volley of muttered curses to Leopold Hirsch's lips. While he held her one hand rather longer than was necessary she, with the other, took his hat from him, and then, laughing coquettishly, she pointed to a parcel which was causing the pocket of his well-cut Norfolk jacket to bulge immoderately. "Is that something for me?" she asked. "Of course it is," he replied lightly; "I bought it at the fair in Arad for you to-day." "How thoughtful of you!" she said, with a little sigh of pleasure. "Thoughtful?" he retorted, laughing pleasantly. "My good Klara, if I hadn't thought of you I would have died of boredom this afternoon. Here, give me a glass of your father's best wine and I'll tell you." He sat down with easy familiarity on the corner of the table which served as a counter. Klara, after this, had eyes and ears only for him. How could it be otherwise, seeing that it was not often a noble lord graced a village tap-room with his presence. Conversations round the room were now carried on in whispers; tarok cards were produced and here and there a game was in progress. Those who had drunk overmuch made themselves as inconspicuous as they could, drawing themselves closely against the wall, or frankly reclining across the table with arms outstretched and heads buried between them out of sight. An atmosphere of subdued animation and decorum reigned in the place; not a few men, oppressed by their sense of respect for my lord, had effected a quiet exit through the door, preferring the jovial atmosphere of the barn, from whence came, during certain hushed moments, the sounds of music and of laughter. The young man--whose presence caused all this revulsion in the usually noisy atmosphere of the tap-room--took no heed whatever of anything that went on around him: he seemed unconscious alike of the deference of the peasants as of the dark, menacing scowl with which Leopold Hirsch regarded him. He certainly did not bestow a single glance on Er s B la who, at my lord's appearance, had retreated into the very darkest corner of the room. B la did not care to encounter the young Count's sneering remarks just now--and these would of a certainty have been levelled against the bridegroom who was sitting in a tap-room when he should have been in attendance on his bride. But indeed my lord never saw him. To this young scion of a noble race, which had owned land and serfs for centuries past, these peasants here were of no more account than his oxen or his sheep--nor was the owner of a village shop of any more consequence in my lord's eyes. He came here because there was a good-looking Jewess in the tap-room whose conversation amused him, and whose dark, velvety eyes, fringed with long lashes, and mouth with full, red lips, stirred his jaded senses in a more pleasant and more decided way than did the eyes and lips of the demure, well-bred young Countesses and Baronesses who formed his usual social circle. Whether his flirtation with Klara, the Jewess, annoyed the girl's Jew lover or not, did not matter to him one jot; on the contrary the jealousy of that dirty lout Hirsch enhanced his amusement to a considerable extent. Therefore he did not take the trouble to lower his voice now when he talked to Klara, and it was quite openly that he put his arm round her waist while he held his glass to her lips--"To sweeten your father's vinegar!" he said with a laugh. "You know, my pretty Klara," he said gaily, "that I was half afraid I shouldn't see you to-day at all." "No?" she asked coquettishly. "No, by gad! My father was so soft-hearted to allow Er s a day off for his wedding or something, and so, if you please, I had to go to Arad with him, as he had to see about a sale of clover. I thought we should never get back. The roads were abominable." "I hardly expected your lordship," she said demurely. To punish her for that little lie, he tweaked her small ear till it became a bright crimson. "That is to punish you for telling such a lie," he said gaily. "You know that I meant to come and say good-bye." "Your lordship goes to-morrow?" she asked with a sigh. "To shoot bears, my pretty Klara," he replied. "I don't want to go. I would rather stay another week here for you to amuse me, you know." "I am proud . . ." she whispered. "So much do you amuse me that I have brought you a present, just to show you that I thought of you to-day and because I want you not to forget me during the three months that I shall be gone." He drew the parcel out of his pocket and, turning his back to the rest of the room, he cut the string and undid the paper that wrapped it. The contents of the parcel proved to be a morocco case, which flew open at a touch and displayed a gold curb chain bracelet--the dream of Klara Goldstein's desires. "For me?" she said, with a gasp of delight. "For your pretty arm, yes," he replied. "Shall I put it on?" She cast a swift, apprehensive glance round the room over his shoulder. "No, no, not now," she said quickly. "Why not?" "Father mightn't like it. I'd have to ask him." "D----n your father!" "And that fool, Leopold, is so insanely jealous." "D----n him too," said the young man quietly. Whereupon he took the morocco case out of Klara's hand, shut it with a snap and put it back into his pocket. "What are you doing?" cried Klara in a fright. "As you see, pretty one, I am putting the bracelet away for future use." "But . . ." she stammered. "If I can't put the bracelet on your arm myself," he said decisively, "you shan't have it at all." "But . . ." "That is my last word. Let us talk of something else." "No, no! We won't talk of something else. You said the bracelet was for me." She cast a languishing look on him through her long upper lashes; she bared her wrist and held it out to him. Leopold and his jealousy might go hang for aught she cared, for she meant to have the bracelet. The young man, with a fatuous little laugh, brought out the case once more. With his own hands he now fastened the bracelet round Klara Goldstein's wrist. Then--as a matter of course--he kissed her round, brown arm just above the bracelet, and also the red lips through which the words of thanks came quickly tumbling. Klara did not dare to look across the room. She felt, though she did not see, Leopold's pale eyes watching this little scene with a glow in them of ferocious hate and of almost animal rage. "I won't stay now, Klara," said the young Count, dropping his voice suddenly to a whisper; "too many of these louts about. When will you be free?" "Oh, not to-day," she whispered in reply. "After the fair there are sure to be late-comers. And you know Er s B la has a ball on at the barn and supper afterwards. . . ." "The very thing," he broke in, in an eager whisper. "While they are all at supper, I'll come in for a drink and a chat. . . . Ten o'clock, eh?" "Oh, no, no!" she protested feebly. "My father wouldn't like it, he . . ." "D----n your father, my dear, as I remarked before. And, as a matter of fact, your father is not going to be in the way at all. He goes to Kecskem t by the night train." "How do you know that?" "My father told me quite casually that Goldstein was seeing to some business for him at Kecskem t to-morrow. So it was not very difficult to guess that if your father was to be in Kecskem t to-morrow in time to transact business, he would have to travel up by the nine o'clock train this evening in order to get there." Then, as she made no reply, and a blush of pleasure gradually suffused her dark skin, lending it additional charm and giving to her eyes added brilliancy, he continued, more peremptorily this time: "At ten o'clock, then--I'll come back. Get rid of as many of these louts by then as you can." She was only too ready to yield. Not only was she hugely flattered by my lord's attentions, but she found him excessively attractive. He could make himself very agreeable to a woman if he chose, and evidently he chose to do so now. Moreover Klara had found by previous experience that to yield to the young man's varied and varying caprices was always remunerative, and there was that gold watch which he had once vaguely promised her, and which she knew she could get out of him if she had the time and opportunity, as she certainly would have to-night if he came. Count Feri, seeing that she had all but yielded, was preparing to go. Her hand was still in his, and he was pressing her slender fingers in token of a pledge for this evening. "At ten o'clock," he whispered again. "No, no," she protested once more, but this time he must have known that she only did it for form's sake and really meant to let him have his way. "The neighbours would see you enter, and there might be a whole lot of people in the tap-room at that hour: one never knows. They would know by then that my father had gone away and they would talk such scandal about me. My reputation . . ." No doubt he felt inclined to ejaculate in his usual manner: "D----n your reputation!" but he thought better of it, and merely said casually: "I need not come in by the front door, need I?" "The back door is always locked," she remarked ingenuously. "My father invariably locks it himself the last thing at night." "But since he is going to Kecskem t . . ." he suggested. "When he has to be away from home for the night he locks the door from the inside and takes the key away with him." "Surely there is a duplicate key somewhere? . . ." "I don't know," she murmured. "If you don't know, who should?" he remarked, with affected indifference. "Well! I shall have to make myself heard at the back door--that's all!" "How?" "Wouldn't you hear me if I knocked?" "Not if I were in the tap-room and a lot of customers to attend to." "Well, then, I should hammer away until you did hear me." "For that old gossip R zi to hear you," she protested. "Her cottage is not fifty paces away from our back door." "Then it will have to be the front door, after all," he rejoined philosophically. "No, no!--the neighbours--and perhaps the tap-room full of people." "But d----n it, Klara," he exclaimed impatiently, "I have made up my mind to come and spend my last evening with you--and when I have made up my mind to a thing, I am not likely to change it because of a lot of gossiping peasants, because of old R zi, or the whole lot of them. So if you don't want me to come in by the front door, which is open, or to knock at the back door, which is locked, how am I going to get in?" "I don't know." "Well, then, you'll have to find out, my pretty one," he said decisively, "for it has got to be done somehow, or that gold watch we spoke of the other day will have to go to somebody else. And you know when I say a thing I mean it. Eh?" "There is a duplicate key," she whispered shyly, ". . . to the back door, I mean." "I thought there was," he remarked dryly. "Where is it?" "In the next room. . . . It hangs on a nail by father's bedside." "Go and get it, then," he said more impatiently. "Not now," she urged. "Leopold is looking straight at you and me." He shrugged his aristocratic shoulders. "You are not afraid of that monkey?" he said with a laugh. "Well, no! not exactly afraid. But he is so insanely jealous; one never knows what kind of mischief he'll get into. He told me just now that whenever father is away from home he takes his stand outside this house from nightfall till morning--watching!" "A modern Argus--eh?" "A modern lunatic!" she retorted. "Well!" resumed the young man lightly, "lunatic or not, he won't be able to keep an eye on you to-night, even though your father will be away." "How do you mean?" "Hirsch is off to

too

How many times the word 'too' appears in the text?

ticked off on her long, pointed fingers the last bevy of her admirers on whom she might reasonably count: the son of the chemist over in Arad, the tenant of the Kender Road farm, the proprietor of the station cabs, and there were two or three others; but they were certainly falling away, and she had added no new ones to her list these past six months. Er s B la's formally declared engagement to Kapus Elsa had been a very severe blow. She had really reckoned on B la. He was educated and unconventional, and though he professed the usual anti-Semitic views peculiar to his kind, Klara did not believe that these were very genuine. At any rate, she had reckoned that her fine eyes and provocative ways would tilt successfully against the man's racial prejudices. Er s B la was rich and certainly, up to a point, in love with her. Klara was congratulating herself on the way she was playing her matrimonial cards, when all her hopes were so suddenly dashed to the ground. B la was going to marry that silly, ignorant peasant girl, and she, Klara, would be left to marry Leopold after all. Her anger and humiliation had been very great, and she had battled very persistently and very ably to regain the prize which she had lost. She knew quite well that, but for the fact that she belonged to the alien and despised race, Er s B la would have been only too happy to marry her. His vanity alone had made him choose Kapus Elsa. He wanted the noted beauty for himself, because the noted beauty had been courted by so many people, and where so many people had failed he was proud to succeed. Nor would he have cared to have it said that he had married a Jewess. There is always a certain thought of disgrace attached to such a marriage, whether it has been contracted by peer or peasant, and Er s B la's one dominating idea in life was to keep the respect and deference of his native village. But he had continued his attentions to Klara, and Klara had kept a wonderful hold over his imagination and over his will. She was the one woman who had ever had her will with him--only partially, of course, and not to the extent of forcing him into matrimony--but sufficiently to keep him also dangling round her skirts even though his whole allegiance should have belonged to Elsa. The banquet this afternoon had been a veritable triumph. Whatever she had suffered through B la's final disloyalty to herself, she knew that Kapus Elsa must have suffered all through the banquet. The humiliation of seeing one's bridegroom openly flaunting his admiration for another woman must have been indeed very bitter to bear. Not for a moment did Klara Goldstein doubt that the subsequent scene was an act of vengeance against herself on Elsa's part. She judged other women by her own standard, discounted other women's emotions, thoughts, feelings, by her own. She thought it quite natural that Elsa should wish to be revenged, just as she was quite sure that B la was already meditating some kind of retaliation for the shame which Andor had put upon him and for Elsa's obstinacy and share in the matter. She had not spoken to anyone of the little scene which had occurred between the four walls of the little schoolroom: on the contrary she had spoken loudly of both the bridegroom's and the bride's cordiality to her during the banquet. "Elsa wanted me to go to the dancing this evening," she said casually, "but I thought you would all miss me. I didn't want this place to be dull just because half the village is enjoying itself somewhere else." It had been market day at Arad, and at about five o'clock Klara and her father became very busy. Cattle-dealers and pig-merchants, travellers and pedlars, dropped in for a glass of silvorium and a chat with the good-looking Jewess. More than one bargain, discussed on the marketplace of Arad, was concluded in the stuffy tap-room of Marosfalva. "Shall we be honoured by the young Count's presence later on?" someone asked, with a significant nod to Klara. Everyone laughed in sympathy; the admiration of the noble young Count for Klara Goldstein was well-known. There was nothing in it, of course; even Klara, vain and ambitious as she was, knew that the bridge which divided the aristocrat from one of her kind and of her race was an impassable one. But she liked the young Count's attentions--she liked the presents he brought her from time to time, and relished the notoriety which this flirtation gave her. She also loved to tease poor Leopold Hirsch. Leo had been passionately in love with her for years; what he must have endured in moral and mental torture during that time through his jealousy and often groundless suspicions no one who did not know him intimately could ever have guessed. These tortures which Klara wantonly inflicted upon the wretched young man had been a constant source of amusement to her. Even now she was delighted because, as luck would have it, he entered the tap-room at the very moment when everyone was chaffing her about the young Count. Leopold Hirsch cast a quick, suspicious glance upon the girl, and his dull olive skin assumed an almost greenish hue. He was not of prepossessing appearance; this he knew himself, and the knowledge helped to keep his jealousy and his suspicion aflame. He was short and lean of stature and his head, with its large, bony features, seemed too big for his narrow shoulders to carry. His ginger-coloured hair was lank and scanty; he wore it--after the manner of those of his race in that part of the world--in corkscrew ringlets down each side of his narrow, cadaverous-looking face. His eyes were pale and shifty, but every now and then there shot into them a curious gleam of unbridled passion--love, hate or revenge; and then the whole face would light up and compel attention by the revelation of latent power. This had happened now when a fellow who sat in the corner by the window made some rough jest about the young Count. Leopold made his way to Klara's side; his thin lips were tightly pressed together, and he had buried his hands in the pockets of his ill-fitting trousers. "If that accursed aristocrat comes hanging round here much more, Klara," he muttered between set teeth, "I'll kill him one of these days." "What a fool you are, Leopold!" she said. "Why, yesterday it was Er s B la you objected to." "And I do still," he retorted. "I heard of your conduct at the banquet to-day. It is the talk of the village. One by one these loutish peasants have come into my shop and told me the tale--curse them!--of how the bridegroom had eyes and ears only for you. You seem to forget, Klara," he added, while a thought of menace crept into his voice, "that you are tokened to me now. So don't try and make a fool of me, or . . ." "The Lord bless you, my good man," she retorted, with a laugh, "I won't try, I promise you. I wouldn't like to compete with the Almighty, who has done that for you already." "Klara . . ." he exclaimed. "Oh! be quiet now, Leo," she said impatiently. "Can't you see that my hands are as full as I can manage, without my having to bother about you and your jealous tempers?" She elbowed him aside and went to the counter to serve a customer who had just arrived, and more than a quarter of an hour went by before Leopold had the chance of another word with her. "You might have a kind word for me to-night, Klara," he said ruefully, as soon as a brief lull in business enabled him to approach the girl. "Why specially to-night?" she asked indifferently. "Your father must go by the night train to Kecskem t," he said, with seeming irrelevance. "There is that business about the plums." "The plums?" she asked, with a frown of puzzlement, "what plums?" "The fruit he bought near Kecskem t. They start gathering at sunrise to-morrow. He must be there the first hour, else he'd get shamefully robbed. He must travel by night." "I knew nothing about it," rejoined Klara, with an indifferent shrug of the shoulders. "Father never tells me when he is going to be away from home." "No!" retorted Leopold, with a sneer, "he knows better than to give all your gallants such a brilliant opportunity." "Don't be a fool, Leo!" she reiterated with a laugh. "I don't give any of them an opportunity, either," resumed the young man, while a curious look of almost animal ferocity crept into his pale face. "Whenever your father has to be away from home during the night, I take up my position outside this house and watch over you until daylight comes and people begin to come and go." "Very thoughtful of you, my good Leo," she rejoined dryly, "but you need not give yourself the trouble. I am well able to look after myself." "If any man molested you," continued Leopold, speaking very calmly, "I would kill him." "Who should molest me, you silly fool? And anyhow, I won't have you spying upon me like that." "You must not call it spying, Klara. I love to stand outside this house in the peace and darkness of the night, and to think of you quietly sleeping whilst I am keeping watch over you. You wouldn't call a watchdog a spy, would you?" "I know that to-night I shan't sleep a wink," she retorted crossly, "once father has gone. I shall always be thinking of you out there in the dark, watching this house. It will make me nervous." "To-night . . ." he began, and then abruptly checked himself. Once more that quick flash of passion shot through his pale, deep-set eyes. It seemed as if he meant to tell her something, which on second thoughts he decided to keep to himself. Her keen, dark eyes searched his face for a moment or two; she wondered what it was that lurked behind that high, smooth forehead of his and within the depths of that curiously perverted brain. Before she had time, however, to question him, Er s B la made noisy irruption into the room. He was greeted with a storm of cheers. "Hello, B la!" "Not the bridegroom, surely?" "Who would have thought of seeing you here?" While Leopold Hirsch muttered audibly: "What devil's mischief has brought this fellow here to-day, I wonder?" B la seemed in boisterous good-humour--with somewhat ostentatious hilarity he greeted all his friends, and then ordered some of Ign cz Goldstein's best wine for everybody all round. "Bravo, B la!" came from every side, together with loud applause at this unexpected liberality. "It is nice of you not to forget old friends," Klara whispered in his ear, as soon as he succeeded in reaching her side. "Whew!" he ejaculated with a sneer, "you have no idea, my good Klara, how I've been boring myself these past two hours. Those loutish peasants have no idea of enjoyment save their eternal gipsy music and their interminable cs rd s." "For a man of your education, B la," said Klara, with an insinuating smile, "it must be odiously dull. You would far rather have had a game of cards, wouldn't you now?" "I would far rather have had you at that infernal dance, so as to have had somebody to talk to," he retorted savagely. "Oh!" she said demurely, "that would never have done. Elsa must have such a lot to say to you herself. It would not be seemly for me to stand in the way." "Elsa, as you know, has that silly cs rd s on the brain. She has been dancing ever since six o'clock and has only given me about ten minutes of her company. She seems to belong to-night to every young fool that can dance, rather than to me." "Ah well! When you are married you can stop all that, my good B la. You can forbid your wife to dance the cs rd s, you know. I know many men who do it. Then Elsa will learn to appreciate the pleasure of your conversation. Though she is no longer very young, she is still very ignorant. You will have to educate her . . . bring her up to your own level of intelligence and of learning. In the meanwhile, do sit down and drink with those who, like yourself, have come here for an hour or two to break the monotony of perpetual czig ny music and dancing." She busied herself with drawing the corks of a number of bottles, which she then transferred from the end of the room where she stood to the tables at which sat her customers; she also brought out some fresh glasses. B la watched her for a moment or two in silence, unconscious of the fact that he, too, was being watched by a pair of pale eyes in which lurked a gleam of jealousy and of hate. Suddenly, as Klara brushed past him carrying bottles and glasses, he took hold of her by the elbow and drew her close to him. "These louts won't stay late to-night, will they?" he whispered in her ear. "No, not late," she replied; "they will go on to the barn in time for the supper, you may be sure of that. Why do you ask?" "I will have the supper served at ten o'clock," he continued to whisper, "but I'll not sit down to it. Not without you." "Don't be foolish, B la," she retorted. But even as he spoke, a little gleam of satisfaction, of gratified vanity, of anticipatory revenge, shot through her velvety dark eyes. "I warned Elsa," he continued sullenly; "I told her that if you were not at the feast, I should not be there either. She has disobeyed me. I must punish her." "So?" she rejoined, with an acid smile. "It is only in order to punish Elsa that you want to sup with me?" "Don't be stupid, Klara," he retorted. "I'll come at ten o'clock. Will you have some supper ready for me then? I have two or three bottles of French champagne over at my house--I'll bring them along. Will you be ready for me?" "Be silent, B la," she broke in hurriedly. "Can't you see that that fool Leo is watching us all the time?" "Curse, him! What have I got to do with him?" muttered B la savagely. "You will be ready for me, Klara?" "No!" she said decisively. "Better make your peace with Elsa. I'll have none of her leavings. I've had all I wanted out of you to-day--the banquet first and now your coming here. . . . It'll be all over the village presently--and that's all I care about. Have a drink now," she added good-humouredly, "and then go and make your peace with Elsa . . . if you can." She turned abruptly away from him, leaving him to murmur curses under his breath, and went on attending to her customers; nor did he get for the moment another opportunity of speaking with her, for Leopold Hirsch hovered round her for some considerable time after that, and presently, with much noise and pomp and circumstance, no less a personage than the noble young Count himself graced the premises of Ign cz Goldstein the Jew with his august presence. CHAPTER XIX "Now go and fetch the key." He belonged to the ancient family of R kosy, who had owned property on both banks of the Maros for the past eight centuries, and Feri R kosy, the twentieth-century representative of his medi val forbears, was a good-looking young fellow of the type so often met with among the upper classes in Hungary: quite something English in appearance--well set-up, well-dressed, well-groomed from the top of his smooth brown hair to the tips of his immaculately-shod feet--in the eyes an expression of habitual boredom, further accentuated by the slight, affected stoop of the shoulders and a few premature lines round the nose and mouth; and about his whole personality that air of high-breeding and of good, pure blood which is one of the chief characteristics of the true Hungarian aristocracy. He did little more than acknowledge the respectful salutations which greeted him from every corner of the little room as he entered, but he nodded to Er s B la and smiled all over his good-looking face at Klara, who, in her turn, welcomed him with a profusion of smiles which brought a volley of muttered curses to Leopold Hirsch's lips. While he held her one hand rather longer than was necessary she, with the other, took his hat from him, and then, laughing coquettishly, she pointed to a parcel which was causing the pocket of his well-cut Norfolk jacket to bulge immoderately. "Is that something for me?" she asked. "Of course it is," he replied lightly; "I bought it at the fair in Arad for you to-day." "How thoughtful of you!" she said, with a little sigh of pleasure. "Thoughtful?" he retorted, laughing pleasantly. "My good Klara, if I hadn't thought of you I would have died of boredom this afternoon. Here, give me a glass of your father's best wine and I'll tell you." He sat down with easy familiarity on the corner of the table which served as a counter. Klara, after this, had eyes and ears only for him. How could it be otherwise, seeing that it was not often a noble lord graced a village tap-room with his presence. Conversations round the room were now carried on in whispers; tarok cards were produced and here and there a game was in progress. Those who had drunk overmuch made themselves as inconspicuous as they could, drawing themselves closely against the wall, or frankly reclining across the table with arms outstretched and heads buried between them out of sight. An atmosphere of subdued animation and decorum reigned in the place; not a few men, oppressed by their sense of respect for my lord, had effected a quiet exit through the door, preferring the jovial atmosphere of the barn, from whence came, during certain hushed moments, the sounds of music and of laughter. The young man--whose presence caused all this revulsion in the usually noisy atmosphere of the tap-room--took no heed whatever of anything that went on around him: he seemed unconscious alike of the deference of the peasants as of the dark, menacing scowl with which Leopold Hirsch regarded him. He certainly did not bestow a single glance on Er s B la who, at my lord's appearance, had retreated into the very darkest corner of the room. B la did not care to encounter the young Count's sneering remarks just now--and these would of a certainty have been levelled against the bridegroom who was sitting in a tap-room when he should have been in attendance on his bride. But indeed my lord never saw him. To this young scion of a noble race, which had owned land and serfs for centuries past, these peasants here were of no more account than his oxen or his sheep--nor was the owner of a village shop of any more consequence in my lord's eyes. He came here because there was a good-looking Jewess in the tap-room whose conversation amused him, and whose dark, velvety eyes, fringed with long lashes, and mouth with full, red lips, stirred his jaded senses in a more pleasant and more decided way than did the eyes and lips of the demure, well-bred young Countesses and Baronesses who formed his usual social circle. Whether his flirtation with Klara, the Jewess, annoyed the girl's Jew lover or not, did not matter to him one jot; on the contrary the jealousy of that dirty lout Hirsch enhanced his amusement to a considerable extent. Therefore he did not take the trouble to lower his voice now when he talked to Klara, and it was quite openly that he put his arm round her waist while he held his glass to her lips--"To sweeten your father's vinegar!" he said with a laugh. "You know, my pretty Klara," he said gaily, "that I was half afraid I shouldn't see you to-day at all." "No?" she asked coquettishly. "No, by gad! My father was so soft-hearted to allow Er s a day off for his wedding or something, and so, if you please, I had to go to Arad with him, as he had to see about a sale of clover. I thought we should never get back. The roads were abominable." "I hardly expected your lordship," she said demurely. To punish her for that little lie, he tweaked her small ear till it became a bright crimson. "That is to punish you for telling such a lie," he said gaily. "You know that I meant to come and say good-bye." "Your lordship goes to-morrow?" she asked with a sigh. "To shoot bears, my pretty Klara," he replied. "I don't want to go. I would rather stay another week here for you to amuse me, you know." "I am proud . . ." she whispered. "So much do you amuse me that I have brought you a present, just to show you that I thought of you to-day and because I want you not to forget me during the three months that I shall be gone." He drew the parcel out of his pocket and, turning his back to the rest of the room, he cut the string and undid the paper that wrapped it. The contents of the parcel proved to be a morocco case, which flew open at a touch and displayed a gold curb chain bracelet--the dream of Klara Goldstein's desires. "For me?" she said, with a gasp of delight. "For your pretty arm, yes," he replied. "Shall I put it on?" She cast a swift, apprehensive glance round the room over his shoulder. "No, no, not now," she said quickly. "Why not?" "Father mightn't like it. I'd have to ask him." "D----n your father!" "And that fool, Leopold, is so insanely jealous." "D----n him too," said the young man quietly. Whereupon he took the morocco case out of Klara's hand, shut it with a snap and put it back into his pocket. "What are you doing?" cried Klara in a fright. "As you see, pretty one, I am putting the bracelet away for future use." "But . . ." she stammered. "If I can't put the bracelet on your arm myself," he said decisively, "you shan't have it at all." "But . . ." "That is my last word. Let us talk of something else." "No, no! We won't talk of something else. You said the bracelet was for me." She cast a languishing look on him through her long upper lashes; she bared her wrist and held it out to him. Leopold and his jealousy might go hang for aught she cared, for she meant to have the bracelet. The young man, with a fatuous little laugh, brought out the case once more. With his own hands he now fastened the bracelet round Klara Goldstein's wrist. Then--as a matter of course--he kissed her round, brown arm just above the bracelet, and also the red lips through which the words of thanks came quickly tumbling. Klara did not dare to look across the room. She felt, though she did not see, Leopold's pale eyes watching this little scene with a glow in them of ferocious hate and of almost animal rage. "I won't stay now, Klara," said the young Count, dropping his voice suddenly to a whisper; "too many of these louts about. When will you be free?" "Oh, not to-day," she whispered in reply. "After the fair there are sure to be late-comers. And you know Er s B la has a ball on at the barn and supper afterwards. . . ." "The very thing," he broke in, in an eager whisper. "While they are all at supper, I'll come in for a drink and a chat. . . . Ten o'clock, eh?" "Oh, no, no!" she protested feebly. "My father wouldn't like it, he . . ." "D----n your father, my dear, as I remarked before. And, as a matter of fact, your father is not going to be in the way at all. He goes to Kecskem t by the night train." "How do you know that?" "My father told me quite casually that Goldstein was seeing to some business for him at Kecskem t to-morrow. So it was not very difficult to guess that if your father was to be in Kecskem t to-morrow in time to transact business, he would have to travel up by the nine o'clock train this evening in order to get there." Then, as she made no reply, and a blush of pleasure gradually suffused her dark skin, lending it additional charm and giving to her eyes added brilliancy, he continued, more peremptorily this time: "At ten o'clock, then--I'll come back. Get rid of as many of these louts by then as you can." She was only too ready to yield. Not only was she hugely flattered by my lord's attentions, but she found him excessively attractive. He could make himself very agreeable to a woman if he chose, and evidently he chose to do so now. Moreover Klara had found by previous experience that to yield to the young man's varied and varying caprices was always remunerative, and there was that gold watch which he had once vaguely promised her, and which she knew she could get out of him if she had the time and opportunity, as she certainly would have to-night if he came. Count Feri, seeing that she had all but yielded, was preparing to go. Her hand was still in his, and he was pressing her slender fingers in token of a pledge for this evening. "At ten o'clock," he whispered again. "No, no," she protested once more, but this time he must have known that she only did it for form's sake and really meant to let him have his way. "The neighbours would see you enter, and there might be a whole lot of people in the tap-room at that hour: one never knows. They would know by then that my father had gone away and they would talk such scandal about me. My reputation . . ." No doubt he felt inclined to ejaculate in his usual manner: "D----n your reputation!" but he thought better of it, and merely said casually: "I need not come in by the front door, need I?" "The back door is always locked," she remarked ingenuously. "My father invariably locks it himself the last thing at night." "But since he is going to Kecskem t . . ." he suggested. "When he has to be away from home for the night he locks the door from the inside and takes the key away with him." "Surely there is a duplicate key somewhere? . . ." "I don't know," she murmured. "If you don't know, who should?" he remarked, with affected indifference. "Well! I shall have to make myself heard at the back door--that's all!" "How?" "Wouldn't you hear me if I knocked?" "Not if I were in the tap-room and a lot of customers to attend to." "Well, then, I should hammer away until you did hear me." "For that old gossip R zi to hear you," she protested. "Her cottage is not fifty paces away from our back door." "Then it will have to be the front door, after all," he rejoined philosophically. "No, no!--the neighbours--and perhaps the tap-room full of people." "But d----n it, Klara," he exclaimed impatiently, "I have made up my mind to come and spend my last evening with you--and when I have made up my mind to a thing, I am not likely to change it because of a lot of gossiping peasants, because of old R zi, or the whole lot of them. So if you don't want me to come in by the front door, which is open, or to knock at the back door, which is locked, how am I going to get in?" "I don't know." "Well, then, you'll have to find out, my pretty one," he said decisively, "for it has got to be done somehow, or that gold watch we spoke of the other day will have to go to somebody else. And you know when I say a thing I mean it. Eh?" "There is a duplicate key," she whispered shyly, ". . . to the back door, I mean." "I thought there was," he remarked dryly. "Where is it?" "In the next room. . . . It hangs on a nail by father's bedside." "Go and get it, then," he said more impatiently. "Not now," she urged. "Leopold is looking straight at you and me." He shrugged his aristocratic shoulders. "You are not afraid of that monkey?" he said with a laugh. "Well, no! not exactly afraid. But he is so insanely jealous; one never knows what kind of mischief he'll get into. He told me just now that whenever father is away from home he takes his stand outside this house from nightfall till morning--watching!" "A modern Argus--eh?" "A modern lunatic!" she retorted. "Well!" resumed the young man lightly, "lunatic or not, he won't be able to keep an eye on you to-night, even though your father will be away." "How do you mean?" "Hirsch is off to

also

How many times the word 'also' appears in the text?

ticked off on her long, pointed fingers the last bevy of her admirers on whom she might reasonably count: the son of the chemist over in Arad, the tenant of the Kender Road farm, the proprietor of the station cabs, and there were two or three others; but they were certainly falling away, and she had added no new ones to her list these past six months. Er s B la's formally declared engagement to Kapus Elsa had been a very severe blow. She had really reckoned on B la. He was educated and unconventional, and though he professed the usual anti-Semitic views peculiar to his kind, Klara did not believe that these were very genuine. At any rate, she had reckoned that her fine eyes and provocative ways would tilt successfully against the man's racial prejudices. Er s B la was rich and certainly, up to a point, in love with her. Klara was congratulating herself on the way she was playing her matrimonial cards, when all her hopes were so suddenly dashed to the ground. B la was going to marry that silly, ignorant peasant girl, and she, Klara, would be left to marry Leopold after all. Her anger and humiliation had been very great, and she had battled very persistently and very ably to regain the prize which she had lost. She knew quite well that, but for the fact that she belonged to the alien and despised race, Er s B la would have been only too happy to marry her. His vanity alone had made him choose Kapus Elsa. He wanted the noted beauty for himself, because the noted beauty had been courted by so many people, and where so many people had failed he was proud to succeed. Nor would he have cared to have it said that he had married a Jewess. There is always a certain thought of disgrace attached to such a marriage, whether it has been contracted by peer or peasant, and Er s B la's one dominating idea in life was to keep the respect and deference of his native village. But he had continued his attentions to Klara, and Klara had kept a wonderful hold over his imagination and over his will. She was the one woman who had ever had her will with him--only partially, of course, and not to the extent of forcing him into matrimony--but sufficiently to keep him also dangling round her skirts even though his whole allegiance should have belonged to Elsa. The banquet this afternoon had been a veritable triumph. Whatever she had suffered through B la's final disloyalty to herself, she knew that Kapus Elsa must have suffered all through the banquet. The humiliation of seeing one's bridegroom openly flaunting his admiration for another woman must have been indeed very bitter to bear. Not for a moment did Klara Goldstein doubt that the subsequent scene was an act of vengeance against herself on Elsa's part. She judged other women by her own standard, discounted other women's emotions, thoughts, feelings, by her own. She thought it quite natural that Elsa should wish to be revenged, just as she was quite sure that B la was already meditating some kind of retaliation for the shame which Andor had put upon him and for Elsa's obstinacy and share in the matter. She had not spoken to anyone of the little scene which had occurred between the four walls of the little schoolroom: on the contrary she had spoken loudly of both the bridegroom's and the bride's cordiality to her during the banquet. "Elsa wanted me to go to the dancing this evening," she said casually, "but I thought you would all miss me. I didn't want this place to be dull just because half the village is enjoying itself somewhere else." It had been market day at Arad, and at about five o'clock Klara and her father became very busy. Cattle-dealers and pig-merchants, travellers and pedlars, dropped in for a glass of silvorium and a chat with the good-looking Jewess. More than one bargain, discussed on the marketplace of Arad, was concluded in the stuffy tap-room of Marosfalva. "Shall we be honoured by the young Count's presence later on?" someone asked, with a significant nod to Klara. Everyone laughed in sympathy; the admiration of the noble young Count for Klara Goldstein was well-known. There was nothing in it, of course; even Klara, vain and ambitious as she was, knew that the bridge which divided the aristocrat from one of her kind and of her race was an impassable one. But she liked the young Count's attentions--she liked the presents he brought her from time to time, and relished the notoriety which this flirtation gave her. She also loved to tease poor Leopold Hirsch. Leo had been passionately in love with her for years; what he must have endured in moral and mental torture during that time through his jealousy and often groundless suspicions no one who did not know him intimately could ever have guessed. These tortures which Klara wantonly inflicted upon the wretched young man had been a constant source of amusement to her. Even now she was delighted because, as luck would have it, he entered the tap-room at the very moment when everyone was chaffing her about the young Count. Leopold Hirsch cast a quick, suspicious glance upon the girl, and his dull olive skin assumed an almost greenish hue. He was not of prepossessing appearance; this he knew himself, and the knowledge helped to keep his jealousy and his suspicion aflame. He was short and lean of stature and his head, with its large, bony features, seemed too big for his narrow shoulders to carry. His ginger-coloured hair was lank and scanty; he wore it--after the manner of those of his race in that part of the world--in corkscrew ringlets down each side of his narrow, cadaverous-looking face. His eyes were pale and shifty, but every now and then there shot into them a curious gleam of unbridled passion--love, hate or revenge; and then the whole face would light up and compel attention by the revelation of latent power. This had happened now when a fellow who sat in the corner by the window made some rough jest about the young Count. Leopold made his way to Klara's side; his thin lips were tightly pressed together, and he had buried his hands in the pockets of his ill-fitting trousers. "If that accursed aristocrat comes hanging round here much more, Klara," he muttered between set teeth, "I'll kill him one of these days." "What a fool you are, Leopold!" she said. "Why, yesterday it was Er s B la you objected to." "And I do still," he retorted. "I heard of your conduct at the banquet to-day. It is the talk of the village. One by one these loutish peasants have come into my shop and told me the tale--curse them!--of how the bridegroom had eyes and ears only for you. You seem to forget, Klara," he added, while a thought of menace crept into his voice, "that you are tokened to me now. So don't try and make a fool of me, or . . ." "The Lord bless you, my good man," she retorted, with a laugh, "I won't try, I promise you. I wouldn't like to compete with the Almighty, who has done that for you already." "Klara . . ." he exclaimed. "Oh! be quiet now, Leo," she said impatiently. "Can't you see that my hands are as full as I can manage, without my having to bother about you and your jealous tempers?" She elbowed him aside and went to the counter to serve a customer who had just arrived, and more than a quarter of an hour went by before Leopold had the chance of another word with her. "You might have a kind word for me to-night, Klara," he said ruefully, as soon as a brief lull in business enabled him to approach the girl. "Why specially to-night?" she asked indifferently. "Your father must go by the night train to Kecskem t," he said, with seeming irrelevance. "There is that business about the plums." "The plums?" she asked, with a frown of puzzlement, "what plums?" "The fruit he bought near Kecskem t. They start gathering at sunrise to-morrow. He must be there the first hour, else he'd get shamefully robbed. He must travel by night." "I knew nothing about it," rejoined Klara, with an indifferent shrug of the shoulders. "Father never tells me when he is going to be away from home." "No!" retorted Leopold, with a sneer, "he knows better than to give all your gallants such a brilliant opportunity." "Don't be a fool, Leo!" she reiterated with a laugh. "I don't give any of them an opportunity, either," resumed the young man, while a curious look of almost animal ferocity crept into his pale face. "Whenever your father has to be away from home during the night, I take up my position outside this house and watch over you until daylight comes and people begin to come and go." "Very thoughtful of you, my good Leo," she rejoined dryly, "but you need not give yourself the trouble. I am well able to look after myself." "If any man molested you," continued Leopold, speaking very calmly, "I would kill him." "Who should molest me, you silly fool? And anyhow, I won't have you spying upon me like that." "You must not call it spying, Klara. I love to stand outside this house in the peace and darkness of the night, and to think of you quietly sleeping whilst I am keeping watch over you. You wouldn't call a watchdog a spy, would you?" "I know that to-night I shan't sleep a wink," she retorted crossly, "once father has gone. I shall always be thinking of you out there in the dark, watching this house. It will make me nervous." "To-night . . ." he began, and then abruptly checked himself. Once more that quick flash of passion shot through his pale, deep-set eyes. It seemed as if he meant to tell her something, which on second thoughts he decided to keep to himself. Her keen, dark eyes searched his face for a moment or two; she wondered what it was that lurked behind that high, smooth forehead of his and within the depths of that curiously perverted brain. Before she had time, however, to question him, Er s B la made noisy irruption into the room. He was greeted with a storm of cheers. "Hello, B la!" "Not the bridegroom, surely?" "Who would have thought of seeing you here?" While Leopold Hirsch muttered audibly: "What devil's mischief has brought this fellow here to-day, I wonder?" B la seemed in boisterous good-humour--with somewhat ostentatious hilarity he greeted all his friends, and then ordered some of Ign cz Goldstein's best wine for everybody all round. "Bravo, B la!" came from every side, together with loud applause at this unexpected liberality. "It is nice of you not to forget old friends," Klara whispered in his ear, as soon as he succeeded in reaching her side. "Whew!" he ejaculated with a sneer, "you have no idea, my good Klara, how I've been boring myself these past two hours. Those loutish peasants have no idea of enjoyment save their eternal gipsy music and their interminable cs rd s." "For a man of your education, B la," said Klara, with an insinuating smile, "it must be odiously dull. You would far rather have had a game of cards, wouldn't you now?" "I would far rather have had you at that infernal dance, so as to have had somebody to talk to," he retorted savagely. "Oh!" she said demurely, "that would never have done. Elsa must have such a lot to say to you herself. It would not be seemly for me to stand in the way." "Elsa, as you know, has that silly cs rd s on the brain. She has been dancing ever since six o'clock and has only given me about ten minutes of her company. She seems to belong to-night to every young fool that can dance, rather than to me." "Ah well! When you are married you can stop all that, my good B la. You can forbid your wife to dance the cs rd s, you know. I know many men who do it. Then Elsa will learn to appreciate the pleasure of your conversation. Though she is no longer very young, she is still very ignorant. You will have to educate her . . . bring her up to your own level of intelligence and of learning. In the meanwhile, do sit down and drink with those who, like yourself, have come here for an hour or two to break the monotony of perpetual czig ny music and dancing." She busied herself with drawing the corks of a number of bottles, which she then transferred from the end of the room where she stood to the tables at which sat her customers; she also brought out some fresh glasses. B la watched her for a moment or two in silence, unconscious of the fact that he, too, was being watched by a pair of pale eyes in which lurked a gleam of jealousy and of hate. Suddenly, as Klara brushed past him carrying bottles and glasses, he took hold of her by the elbow and drew her close to him. "These louts won't stay late to-night, will they?" he whispered in her ear. "No, not late," she replied; "they will go on to the barn in time for the supper, you may be sure of that. Why do you ask?" "I will have the supper served at ten o'clock," he continued to whisper, "but I'll not sit down to it. Not without you." "Don't be foolish, B la," she retorted. But even as he spoke, a little gleam of satisfaction, of gratified vanity, of anticipatory revenge, shot through her velvety dark eyes. "I warned Elsa," he continued sullenly; "I told her that if you were not at the feast, I should not be there either. She has disobeyed me. I must punish her." "So?" she rejoined, with an acid smile. "It is only in order to punish Elsa that you want to sup with me?" "Don't be stupid, Klara," he retorted. "I'll come at ten o'clock. Will you have some supper ready for me then? I have two or three bottles of French champagne over at my house--I'll bring them along. Will you be ready for me?" "Be silent, B la," she broke in hurriedly. "Can't you see that that fool Leo is watching us all the time?" "Curse, him! What have I got to do with him?" muttered B la savagely. "You will be ready for me, Klara?" "No!" she said decisively. "Better make your peace with Elsa. I'll have none of her leavings. I've had all I wanted out of you to-day--the banquet first and now your coming here. . . . It'll be all over the village presently--and that's all I care about. Have a drink now," she added good-humouredly, "and then go and make your peace with Elsa . . . if you can." She turned abruptly away from him, leaving him to murmur curses under his breath, and went on attending to her customers; nor did he get for the moment another opportunity of speaking with her, for Leopold Hirsch hovered round her for some considerable time after that, and presently, with much noise and pomp and circumstance, no less a personage than the noble young Count himself graced the premises of Ign cz Goldstein the Jew with his august presence. CHAPTER XIX "Now go and fetch the key." He belonged to the ancient family of R kosy, who had owned property on both banks of the Maros for the past eight centuries, and Feri R kosy, the twentieth-century representative of his medi val forbears, was a good-looking young fellow of the type so often met with among the upper classes in Hungary: quite something English in appearance--well set-up, well-dressed, well-groomed from the top of his smooth brown hair to the tips of his immaculately-shod feet--in the eyes an expression of habitual boredom, further accentuated by the slight, affected stoop of the shoulders and a few premature lines round the nose and mouth; and about his whole personality that air of high-breeding and of good, pure blood which is one of the chief characteristics of the true Hungarian aristocracy. He did little more than acknowledge the respectful salutations which greeted him from every corner of the little room as he entered, but he nodded to Er s B la and smiled all over his good-looking face at Klara, who, in her turn, welcomed him with a profusion of smiles which brought a volley of muttered curses to Leopold Hirsch's lips. While he held her one hand rather longer than was necessary she, with the other, took his hat from him, and then, laughing coquettishly, she pointed to a parcel which was causing the pocket of his well-cut Norfolk jacket to bulge immoderately. "Is that something for me?" she asked. "Of course it is," he replied lightly; "I bought it at the fair in Arad for you to-day." "How thoughtful of you!" she said, with a little sigh of pleasure. "Thoughtful?" he retorted, laughing pleasantly. "My good Klara, if I hadn't thought of you I would have died of boredom this afternoon. Here, give me a glass of your father's best wine and I'll tell you." He sat down with easy familiarity on the corner of the table which served as a counter. Klara, after this, had eyes and ears only for him. How could it be otherwise, seeing that it was not often a noble lord graced a village tap-room with his presence. Conversations round the room were now carried on in whispers; tarok cards were produced and here and there a game was in progress. Those who had drunk overmuch made themselves as inconspicuous as they could, drawing themselves closely against the wall, or frankly reclining across the table with arms outstretched and heads buried between them out of sight. An atmosphere of subdued animation and decorum reigned in the place; not a few men, oppressed by their sense of respect for my lord, had effected a quiet exit through the door, preferring the jovial atmosphere of the barn, from whence came, during certain hushed moments, the sounds of music and of laughter. The young man--whose presence caused all this revulsion in the usually noisy atmosphere of the tap-room--took no heed whatever of anything that went on around him: he seemed unconscious alike of the deference of the peasants as of the dark, menacing scowl with which Leopold Hirsch regarded him. He certainly did not bestow a single glance on Er s B la who, at my lord's appearance, had retreated into the very darkest corner of the room. B la did not care to encounter the young Count's sneering remarks just now--and these would of a certainty have been levelled against the bridegroom who was sitting in a tap-room when he should have been in attendance on his bride. But indeed my lord never saw him. To this young scion of a noble race, which had owned land and serfs for centuries past, these peasants here were of no more account than his oxen or his sheep--nor was the owner of a village shop of any more consequence in my lord's eyes. He came here because there was a good-looking Jewess in the tap-room whose conversation amused him, and whose dark, velvety eyes, fringed with long lashes, and mouth with full, red lips, stirred his jaded senses in a more pleasant and more decided way than did the eyes and lips of the demure, well-bred young Countesses and Baronesses who formed his usual social circle. Whether his flirtation with Klara, the Jewess, annoyed the girl's Jew lover or not, did not matter to him one jot; on the contrary the jealousy of that dirty lout Hirsch enhanced his amusement to a considerable extent. Therefore he did not take the trouble to lower his voice now when he talked to Klara, and it was quite openly that he put his arm round her waist while he held his glass to her lips--"To sweeten your father's vinegar!" he said with a laugh. "You know, my pretty Klara," he said gaily, "that I was half afraid I shouldn't see you to-day at all." "No?" she asked coquettishly. "No, by gad! My father was so soft-hearted to allow Er s a day off for his wedding or something, and so, if you please, I had to go to Arad with him, as he had to see about a sale of clover. I thought we should never get back. The roads were abominable." "I hardly expected your lordship," she said demurely. To punish her for that little lie, he tweaked her small ear till it became a bright crimson. "That is to punish you for telling such a lie," he said gaily. "You know that I meant to come and say good-bye." "Your lordship goes to-morrow?" she asked with a sigh. "To shoot bears, my pretty Klara," he replied. "I don't want to go. I would rather stay another week here for you to amuse me, you know." "I am proud . . ." she whispered. "So much do you amuse me that I have brought you a present, just to show you that I thought of you to-day and because I want you not to forget me during the three months that I shall be gone." He drew the parcel out of his pocket and, turning his back to the rest of the room, he cut the string and undid the paper that wrapped it. The contents of the parcel proved to be a morocco case, which flew open at a touch and displayed a gold curb chain bracelet--the dream of Klara Goldstein's desires. "For me?" she said, with a gasp of delight. "For your pretty arm, yes," he replied. "Shall I put it on?" She cast a swift, apprehensive glance round the room over his shoulder. "No, no, not now," she said quickly. "Why not?" "Father mightn't like it. I'd have to ask him." "D----n your father!" "And that fool, Leopold, is so insanely jealous." "D----n him too," said the young man quietly. Whereupon he took the morocco case out of Klara's hand, shut it with a snap and put it back into his pocket. "What are you doing?" cried Klara in a fright. "As you see, pretty one, I am putting the bracelet away for future use." "But . . ." she stammered. "If I can't put the bracelet on your arm myself," he said decisively, "you shan't have it at all." "But . . ." "That is my last word. Let us talk of something else." "No, no! We won't talk of something else. You said the bracelet was for me." She cast a languishing look on him through her long upper lashes; she bared her wrist and held it out to him. Leopold and his jealousy might go hang for aught she cared, for she meant to have the bracelet. The young man, with a fatuous little laugh, brought out the case once more. With his own hands he now fastened the bracelet round Klara Goldstein's wrist. Then--as a matter of course--he kissed her round, brown arm just above the bracelet, and also the red lips through which the words of thanks came quickly tumbling. Klara did not dare to look across the room. She felt, though she did not see, Leopold's pale eyes watching this little scene with a glow in them of ferocious hate and of almost animal rage. "I won't stay now, Klara," said the young Count, dropping his voice suddenly to a whisper; "too many of these louts about. When will you be free?" "Oh, not to-day," she whispered in reply. "After the fair there are sure to be late-comers. And you know Er s B la has a ball on at the barn and supper afterwards. . . ." "The very thing," he broke in, in an eager whisper. "While they are all at supper, I'll come in for a drink and a chat. . . . Ten o'clock, eh?" "Oh, no, no!" she protested feebly. "My father wouldn't like it, he . . ." "D----n your father, my dear, as I remarked before. And, as a matter of fact, your father is not going to be in the way at all. He goes to Kecskem t by the night train." "How do you know that?" "My father told me quite casually that Goldstein was seeing to some business for him at Kecskem t to-morrow. So it was not very difficult to guess that if your father was to be in Kecskem t to-morrow in time to transact business, he would have to travel up by the nine o'clock train this evening in order to get there." Then, as she made no reply, and a blush of pleasure gradually suffused her dark skin, lending it additional charm and giving to her eyes added brilliancy, he continued, more peremptorily this time: "At ten o'clock, then--I'll come back. Get rid of as many of these louts by then as you can." She was only too ready to yield. Not only was she hugely flattered by my lord's attentions, but she found him excessively attractive. He could make himself very agreeable to a woman if he chose, and evidently he chose to do so now. Moreover Klara had found by previous experience that to yield to the young man's varied and varying caprices was always remunerative, and there was that gold watch which he had once vaguely promised her, and which she knew she could get out of him if she had the time and opportunity, as she certainly would have to-night if he came. Count Feri, seeing that she had all but yielded, was preparing to go. Her hand was still in his, and he was pressing her slender fingers in token of a pledge for this evening. "At ten o'clock," he whispered again. "No, no," she protested once more, but this time he must have known that she only did it for form's sake and really meant to let him have his way. "The neighbours would see you enter, and there might be a whole lot of people in the tap-room at that hour: one never knows. They would know by then that my father had gone away and they would talk such scandal about me. My reputation . . ." No doubt he felt inclined to ejaculate in his usual manner: "D----n your reputation!" but he thought better of it, and merely said casually: "I need not come in by the front door, need I?" "The back door is always locked," she remarked ingenuously. "My father invariably locks it himself the last thing at night." "But since he is going to Kecskem t . . ." he suggested. "When he has to be away from home for the night he locks the door from the inside and takes the key away with him." "Surely there is a duplicate key somewhere? . . ." "I don't know," she murmured. "If you don't know, who should?" he remarked, with affected indifference. "Well! I shall have to make myself heard at the back door--that's all!" "How?" "Wouldn't you hear me if I knocked?" "Not if I were in the tap-room and a lot of customers to attend to." "Well, then, I should hammer away until you did hear me." "For that old gossip R zi to hear you," she protested. "Her cottage is not fifty paces away from our back door." "Then it will have to be the front door, after all," he rejoined philosophically. "No, no!--the neighbours--and perhaps the tap-room full of people." "But d----n it, Klara," he exclaimed impatiently, "I have made up my mind to come and spend my last evening with you--and when I have made up my mind to a thing, I am not likely to change it because of a lot of gossiping peasants, because of old R zi, or the whole lot of them. So if you don't want me to come in by the front door, which is open, or to knock at the back door, which is locked, how am I going to get in?" "I don't know." "Well, then, you'll have to find out, my pretty one," he said decisively, "for it has got to be done somehow, or that gold watch we spoke of the other day will have to go to somebody else. And you know when I say a thing I mean it. Eh?" "There is a duplicate key," she whispered shyly, ". . . to the back door, I mean." "I thought there was," he remarked dryly. "Where is it?" "In the next room. . . . It hangs on a nail by father's bedside." "Go and get it, then," he said more impatiently. "Not now," she urged. "Leopold is looking straight at you and me." He shrugged his aristocratic shoulders. "You are not afraid of that monkey?" he said with a laugh. "Well, no! not exactly afraid. But he is so insanely jealous; one never knows what kind of mischief he'll get into. He told me just now that whenever father is away from home he takes his stand outside this house from nightfall till morning--watching!" "A modern Argus--eh?" "A modern lunatic!" she retorted. "Well!" resumed the young man lightly, "lunatic or not, he won't be able to keep an eye on you to-night, even though your father will be away." "How do you mean?" "Hirsch is off to

wall

How many times the word 'wall' appears in the text?

ticked off on her long, pointed fingers the last bevy of her admirers on whom she might reasonably count: the son of the chemist over in Arad, the tenant of the Kender Road farm, the proprietor of the station cabs, and there were two or three others; but they were certainly falling away, and she had added no new ones to her list these past six months. Er s B la's formally declared engagement to Kapus Elsa had been a very severe blow. She had really reckoned on B la. He was educated and unconventional, and though he professed the usual anti-Semitic views peculiar to his kind, Klara did not believe that these were very genuine. At any rate, she had reckoned that her fine eyes and provocative ways would tilt successfully against the man's racial prejudices. Er s B la was rich and certainly, up to a point, in love with her. Klara was congratulating herself on the way she was playing her matrimonial cards, when all her hopes were so suddenly dashed to the ground. B la was going to marry that silly, ignorant peasant girl, and she, Klara, would be left to marry Leopold after all. Her anger and humiliation had been very great, and she had battled very persistently and very ably to regain the prize which she had lost. She knew quite well that, but for the fact that she belonged to the alien and despised race, Er s B la would have been only too happy to marry her. His vanity alone had made him choose Kapus Elsa. He wanted the noted beauty for himself, because the noted beauty had been courted by so many people, and where so many people had failed he was proud to succeed. Nor would he have cared to have it said that he had married a Jewess. There is always a certain thought of disgrace attached to such a marriage, whether it has been contracted by peer or peasant, and Er s B la's one dominating idea in life was to keep the respect and deference of his native village. But he had continued his attentions to Klara, and Klara had kept a wonderful hold over his imagination and over his will. She was the one woman who had ever had her will with him--only partially, of course, and not to the extent of forcing him into matrimony--but sufficiently to keep him also dangling round her skirts even though his whole allegiance should have belonged to Elsa. The banquet this afternoon had been a veritable triumph. Whatever she had suffered through B la's final disloyalty to herself, she knew that Kapus Elsa must have suffered all through the banquet. The humiliation of seeing one's bridegroom openly flaunting his admiration for another woman must have been indeed very bitter to bear. Not for a moment did Klara Goldstein doubt that the subsequent scene was an act of vengeance against herself on Elsa's part. She judged other women by her own standard, discounted other women's emotions, thoughts, feelings, by her own. She thought it quite natural that Elsa should wish to be revenged, just as she was quite sure that B la was already meditating some kind of retaliation for the shame which Andor had put upon him and for Elsa's obstinacy and share in the matter. She had not spoken to anyone of the little scene which had occurred between the four walls of the little schoolroom: on the contrary she had spoken loudly of both the bridegroom's and the bride's cordiality to her during the banquet. "Elsa wanted me to go to the dancing this evening," she said casually, "but I thought you would all miss me. I didn't want this place to be dull just because half the village is enjoying itself somewhere else." It had been market day at Arad, and at about five o'clock Klara and her father became very busy. Cattle-dealers and pig-merchants, travellers and pedlars, dropped in for a glass of silvorium and a chat with the good-looking Jewess. More than one bargain, discussed on the marketplace of Arad, was concluded in the stuffy tap-room of Marosfalva. "Shall we be honoured by the young Count's presence later on?" someone asked, with a significant nod to Klara. Everyone laughed in sympathy; the admiration of the noble young Count for Klara Goldstein was well-known. There was nothing in it, of course; even Klara, vain and ambitious as she was, knew that the bridge which divided the aristocrat from one of her kind and of her race was an impassable one. But she liked the young Count's attentions--she liked the presents he brought her from time to time, and relished the notoriety which this flirtation gave her. She also loved to tease poor Leopold Hirsch. Leo had been passionately in love with her for years; what he must have endured in moral and mental torture during that time through his jealousy and often groundless suspicions no one who did not know him intimately could ever have guessed. These tortures which Klara wantonly inflicted upon the wretched young man had been a constant source of amusement to her. Even now she was delighted because, as luck would have it, he entered the tap-room at the very moment when everyone was chaffing her about the young Count. Leopold Hirsch cast a quick, suspicious glance upon the girl, and his dull olive skin assumed an almost greenish hue. He was not of prepossessing appearance; this he knew himself, and the knowledge helped to keep his jealousy and his suspicion aflame. He was short and lean of stature and his head, with its large, bony features, seemed too big for his narrow shoulders to carry. His ginger-coloured hair was lank and scanty; he wore it--after the manner of those of his race in that part of the world--in corkscrew ringlets down each side of his narrow, cadaverous-looking face. His eyes were pale and shifty, but every now and then there shot into them a curious gleam of unbridled passion--love, hate or revenge; and then the whole face would light up and compel attention by the revelation of latent power. This had happened now when a fellow who sat in the corner by the window made some rough jest about the young Count. Leopold made his way to Klara's side; his thin lips were tightly pressed together, and he had buried his hands in the pockets of his ill-fitting trousers. "If that accursed aristocrat comes hanging round here much more, Klara," he muttered between set teeth, "I'll kill him one of these days." "What a fool you are, Leopold!" she said. "Why, yesterday it was Er s B la you objected to." "And I do still," he retorted. "I heard of your conduct at the banquet to-day. It is the talk of the village. One by one these loutish peasants have come into my shop and told me the tale--curse them!--of how the bridegroom had eyes and ears only for you. You seem to forget, Klara," he added, while a thought of menace crept into his voice, "that you are tokened to me now. So don't try and make a fool of me, or . . ." "The Lord bless you, my good man," she retorted, with a laugh, "I won't try, I promise you. I wouldn't like to compete with the Almighty, who has done that for you already." "Klara . . ." he exclaimed. "Oh! be quiet now, Leo," she said impatiently. "Can't you see that my hands are as full as I can manage, without my having to bother about you and your jealous tempers?" She elbowed him aside and went to the counter to serve a customer who had just arrived, and more than a quarter of an hour went by before Leopold had the chance of another word with her. "You might have a kind word for me to-night, Klara," he said ruefully, as soon as a brief lull in business enabled him to approach the girl. "Why specially to-night?" she asked indifferently. "Your father must go by the night train to Kecskem t," he said, with seeming irrelevance. "There is that business about the plums." "The plums?" she asked, with a frown of puzzlement, "what plums?" "The fruit he bought near Kecskem t. They start gathering at sunrise to-morrow. He must be there the first hour, else he'd get shamefully robbed. He must travel by night." "I knew nothing about it," rejoined Klara, with an indifferent shrug of the shoulders. "Father never tells me when he is going to be away from home." "No!" retorted Leopold, with a sneer, "he knows better than to give all your gallants such a brilliant opportunity." "Don't be a fool, Leo!" she reiterated with a laugh. "I don't give any of them an opportunity, either," resumed the young man, while a curious look of almost animal ferocity crept into his pale face. "Whenever your father has to be away from home during the night, I take up my position outside this house and watch over you until daylight comes and people begin to come and go." "Very thoughtful of you, my good Leo," she rejoined dryly, "but you need not give yourself the trouble. I am well able to look after myself." "If any man molested you," continued Leopold, speaking very calmly, "I would kill him." "Who should molest me, you silly fool? And anyhow, I won't have you spying upon me like that." "You must not call it spying, Klara. I love to stand outside this house in the peace and darkness of the night, and to think of you quietly sleeping whilst I am keeping watch over you. You wouldn't call a watchdog a spy, would you?" "I know that to-night I shan't sleep a wink," she retorted crossly, "once father has gone. I shall always be thinking of you out there in the dark, watching this house. It will make me nervous." "To-night . . ." he began, and then abruptly checked himself. Once more that quick flash of passion shot through his pale, deep-set eyes. It seemed as if he meant to tell her something, which on second thoughts he decided to keep to himself. Her keen, dark eyes searched his face for a moment or two; she wondered what it was that lurked behind that high, smooth forehead of his and within the depths of that curiously perverted brain. Before she had time, however, to question him, Er s B la made noisy irruption into the room. He was greeted with a storm of cheers. "Hello, B la!" "Not the bridegroom, surely?" "Who would have thought of seeing you here?" While Leopold Hirsch muttered audibly: "What devil's mischief has brought this fellow here to-day, I wonder?" B la seemed in boisterous good-humour--with somewhat ostentatious hilarity he greeted all his friends, and then ordered some of Ign cz Goldstein's best wine for everybody all round. "Bravo, B la!" came from every side, together with loud applause at this unexpected liberality. "It is nice of you not to forget old friends," Klara whispered in his ear, as soon as he succeeded in reaching her side. "Whew!" he ejaculated with a sneer, "you have no idea, my good Klara, how I've been boring myself these past two hours. Those loutish peasants have no idea of enjoyment save their eternal gipsy music and their interminable cs rd s." "For a man of your education, B la," said Klara, with an insinuating smile, "it must be odiously dull. You would far rather have had a game of cards, wouldn't you now?" "I would far rather have had you at that infernal dance, so as to have had somebody to talk to," he retorted savagely. "Oh!" she said demurely, "that would never have done. Elsa must have such a lot to say to you herself. It would not be seemly for me to stand in the way." "Elsa, as you know, has that silly cs rd s on the brain. She has been dancing ever since six o'clock and has only given me about ten minutes of her company. She seems to belong to-night to every young fool that can dance, rather than to me." "Ah well! When you are married you can stop all that, my good B la. You can forbid your wife to dance the cs rd s, you know. I know many men who do it. Then Elsa will learn to appreciate the pleasure of your conversation. Though she is no longer very young, she is still very ignorant. You will have to educate her . . . bring her up to your own level of intelligence and of learning. In the meanwhile, do sit down and drink with those who, like yourself, have come here for an hour or two to break the monotony of perpetual czig ny music and dancing." She busied herself with drawing the corks of a number of bottles, which she then transferred from the end of the room where she stood to the tables at which sat her customers; she also brought out some fresh glasses. B la watched her for a moment or two in silence, unconscious of the fact that he, too, was being watched by a pair of pale eyes in which lurked a gleam of jealousy and of hate. Suddenly, as Klara brushed past him carrying bottles and glasses, he took hold of her by the elbow and drew her close to him. "These louts won't stay late to-night, will they?" he whispered in her ear. "No, not late," she replied; "they will go on to the barn in time for the supper, you may be sure of that. Why do you ask?" "I will have the supper served at ten o'clock," he continued to whisper, "but I'll not sit down to it. Not without you." "Don't be foolish, B la," she retorted. But even as he spoke, a little gleam of satisfaction, of gratified vanity, of anticipatory revenge, shot through her velvety dark eyes. "I warned Elsa," he continued sullenly; "I told her that if you were not at the feast, I should not be there either. She has disobeyed me. I must punish her." "So?" she rejoined, with an acid smile. "It is only in order to punish Elsa that you want to sup with me?" "Don't be stupid, Klara," he retorted. "I'll come at ten o'clock. Will you have some supper ready for me then? I have two or three bottles of French champagne over at my house--I'll bring them along. Will you be ready for me?" "Be silent, B la," she broke in hurriedly. "Can't you see that that fool Leo is watching us all the time?" "Curse, him! What have I got to do with him?" muttered B la savagely. "You will be ready for me, Klara?" "No!" she said decisively. "Better make your peace with Elsa. I'll have none of her leavings. I've had all I wanted out of you to-day--the banquet first and now your coming here. . . . It'll be all over the village presently--and that's all I care about. Have a drink now," she added good-humouredly, "and then go and make your peace with Elsa . . . if you can." She turned abruptly away from him, leaving him to murmur curses under his breath, and went on attending to her customers; nor did he get for the moment another opportunity of speaking with her, for Leopold Hirsch hovered round her for some considerable time after that, and presently, with much noise and pomp and circumstance, no less a personage than the noble young Count himself graced the premises of Ign cz Goldstein the Jew with his august presence. CHAPTER XIX "Now go and fetch the key." He belonged to the ancient family of R kosy, who had owned property on both banks of the Maros for the past eight centuries, and Feri R kosy, the twentieth-century representative of his medi val forbears, was a good-looking young fellow of the type so often met with among the upper classes in Hungary: quite something English in appearance--well set-up, well-dressed, well-groomed from the top of his smooth brown hair to the tips of his immaculately-shod feet--in the eyes an expression of habitual boredom, further accentuated by the slight, affected stoop of the shoulders and a few premature lines round the nose and mouth; and about his whole personality that air of high-breeding and of good, pure blood which is one of the chief characteristics of the true Hungarian aristocracy. He did little more than acknowledge the respectful salutations which greeted him from every corner of the little room as he entered, but he nodded to Er s B la and smiled all over his good-looking face at Klara, who, in her turn, welcomed him with a profusion of smiles which brought a volley of muttered curses to Leopold Hirsch's lips. While he held her one hand rather longer than was necessary she, with the other, took his hat from him, and then, laughing coquettishly, she pointed to a parcel which was causing the pocket of his well-cut Norfolk jacket to bulge immoderately. "Is that something for me?" she asked. "Of course it is," he replied lightly; "I bought it at the fair in Arad for you to-day." "How thoughtful of you!" she said, with a little sigh of pleasure. "Thoughtful?" he retorted, laughing pleasantly. "My good Klara, if I hadn't thought of you I would have died of boredom this afternoon. Here, give me a glass of your father's best wine and I'll tell you." He sat down with easy familiarity on the corner of the table which served as a counter. Klara, after this, had eyes and ears only for him. How could it be otherwise, seeing that it was not often a noble lord graced a village tap-room with his presence. Conversations round the room were now carried on in whispers; tarok cards were produced and here and there a game was in progress. Those who had drunk overmuch made themselves as inconspicuous as they could, drawing themselves closely against the wall, or frankly reclining across the table with arms outstretched and heads buried between them out of sight. An atmosphere of subdued animation and decorum reigned in the place; not a few men, oppressed by their sense of respect for my lord, had effected a quiet exit through the door, preferring the jovial atmosphere of the barn, from whence came, during certain hushed moments, the sounds of music and of laughter. The young man--whose presence caused all this revulsion in the usually noisy atmosphere of the tap-room--took no heed whatever of anything that went on around him: he seemed unconscious alike of the deference of the peasants as of the dark, menacing scowl with which Leopold Hirsch regarded him. He certainly did not bestow a single glance on Er s B la who, at my lord's appearance, had retreated into the very darkest corner of the room. B la did not care to encounter the young Count's sneering remarks just now--and these would of a certainty have been levelled against the bridegroom who was sitting in a tap-room when he should have been in attendance on his bride. But indeed my lord never saw him. To this young scion of a noble race, which had owned land and serfs for centuries past, these peasants here were of no more account than his oxen or his sheep--nor was the owner of a village shop of any more consequence in my lord's eyes. He came here because there was a good-looking Jewess in the tap-room whose conversation amused him, and whose dark, velvety eyes, fringed with long lashes, and mouth with full, red lips, stirred his jaded senses in a more pleasant and more decided way than did the eyes and lips of the demure, well-bred young Countesses and Baronesses who formed his usual social circle. Whether his flirtation with Klara, the Jewess, annoyed the girl's Jew lover or not, did not matter to him one jot; on the contrary the jealousy of that dirty lout Hirsch enhanced his amusement to a considerable extent. Therefore he did not take the trouble to lower his voice now when he talked to Klara, and it was quite openly that he put his arm round her waist while he held his glass to her lips--"To sweeten your father's vinegar!" he said with a laugh. "You know, my pretty Klara," he said gaily, "that I was half afraid I shouldn't see you to-day at all." "No?" she asked coquettishly. "No, by gad! My father was so soft-hearted to allow Er s a day off for his wedding or something, and so, if you please, I had to go to Arad with him, as he had to see about a sale of clover. I thought we should never get back. The roads were abominable." "I hardly expected your lordship," she said demurely. To punish her for that little lie, he tweaked her small ear till it became a bright crimson. "That is to punish you for telling such a lie," he said gaily. "You know that I meant to come and say good-bye." "Your lordship goes to-morrow?" she asked with a sigh. "To shoot bears, my pretty Klara," he replied. "I don't want to go. I would rather stay another week here for you to amuse me, you know." "I am proud . . ." she whispered. "So much do you amuse me that I have brought you a present, just to show you that I thought of you to-day and because I want you not to forget me during the three months that I shall be gone." He drew the parcel out of his pocket and, turning his back to the rest of the room, he cut the string and undid the paper that wrapped it. The contents of the parcel proved to be a morocco case, which flew open at a touch and displayed a gold curb chain bracelet--the dream of Klara Goldstein's desires. "For me?" she said, with a gasp of delight. "For your pretty arm, yes," he replied. "Shall I put it on?" She cast a swift, apprehensive glance round the room over his shoulder. "No, no, not now," she said quickly. "Why not?" "Father mightn't like it. I'd have to ask him." "D----n your father!" "And that fool, Leopold, is so insanely jealous." "D----n him too," said the young man quietly. Whereupon he took the morocco case out of Klara's hand, shut it with a snap and put it back into his pocket. "What are you doing?" cried Klara in a fright. "As you see, pretty one, I am putting the bracelet away for future use." "But . . ." she stammered. "If I can't put the bracelet on your arm myself," he said decisively, "you shan't have it at all." "But . . ." "That is my last word. Let us talk of something else." "No, no! We won't talk of something else. You said the bracelet was for me." She cast a languishing look on him through her long upper lashes; she bared her wrist and held it out to him. Leopold and his jealousy might go hang for aught she cared, for she meant to have the bracelet. The young man, with a fatuous little laugh, brought out the case once more. With his own hands he now fastened the bracelet round Klara Goldstein's wrist. Then--as a matter of course--he kissed her round, brown arm just above the bracelet, and also the red lips through which the words of thanks came quickly tumbling. Klara did not dare to look across the room. She felt, though she did not see, Leopold's pale eyes watching this little scene with a glow in them of ferocious hate and of almost animal rage. "I won't stay now, Klara," said the young Count, dropping his voice suddenly to a whisper; "too many of these louts about. When will you be free?" "Oh, not to-day," she whispered in reply. "After the fair there are sure to be late-comers. And you know Er s B la has a ball on at the barn and supper afterwards. . . ." "The very thing," he broke in, in an eager whisper. "While they are all at supper, I'll come in for a drink and a chat. . . . Ten o'clock, eh?" "Oh, no, no!" she protested feebly. "My father wouldn't like it, he . . ." "D----n your father, my dear, as I remarked before. And, as a matter of fact, your father is not going to be in the way at all. He goes to Kecskem t by the night train." "How do you know that?" "My father told me quite casually that Goldstein was seeing to some business for him at Kecskem t to-morrow. So it was not very difficult to guess that if your father was to be in Kecskem t to-morrow in time to transact business, he would have to travel up by the nine o'clock train this evening in order to get there." Then, as she made no reply, and a blush of pleasure gradually suffused her dark skin, lending it additional charm and giving to her eyes added brilliancy, he continued, more peremptorily this time: "At ten o'clock, then--I'll come back. Get rid of as many of these louts by then as you can." She was only too ready to yield. Not only was she hugely flattered by my lord's attentions, but she found him excessively attractive. He could make himself very agreeable to a woman if he chose, and evidently he chose to do so now. Moreover Klara had found by previous experience that to yield to the young man's varied and varying caprices was always remunerative, and there was that gold watch which he had once vaguely promised her, and which she knew she could get out of him if she had the time and opportunity, as she certainly would have to-night if he came. Count Feri, seeing that she had all but yielded, was preparing to go. Her hand was still in his, and he was pressing her slender fingers in token of a pledge for this evening. "At ten o'clock," he whispered again. "No, no," she protested once more, but this time he must have known that she only did it for form's sake and really meant to let him have his way. "The neighbours would see you enter, and there might be a whole lot of people in the tap-room at that hour: one never knows. They would know by then that my father had gone away and they would talk such scandal about me. My reputation . . ." No doubt he felt inclined to ejaculate in his usual manner: "D----n your reputation!" but he thought better of it, and merely said casually: "I need not come in by the front door, need I?" "The back door is always locked," she remarked ingenuously. "My father invariably locks it himself the last thing at night." "But since he is going to Kecskem t . . ." he suggested. "When he has to be away from home for the night he locks the door from the inside and takes the key away with him." "Surely there is a duplicate key somewhere? . . ." "I don't know," she murmured. "If you don't know, who should?" he remarked, with affected indifference. "Well! I shall have to make myself heard at the back door--that's all!" "How?" "Wouldn't you hear me if I knocked?" "Not if I were in the tap-room and a lot of customers to attend to." "Well, then, I should hammer away until you did hear me." "For that old gossip R zi to hear you," she protested. "Her cottage is not fifty paces away from our back door." "Then it will have to be the front door, after all," he rejoined philosophically. "No, no!--the neighbours--and perhaps the tap-room full of people." "But d----n it, Klara," he exclaimed impatiently, "I have made up my mind to come and spend my last evening with you--and when I have made up my mind to a thing, I am not likely to change it because of a lot of gossiping peasants, because of old R zi, or the whole lot of them. So if you don't want me to come in by the front door, which is open, or to knock at the back door, which is locked, how am I going to get in?" "I don't know." "Well, then, you'll have to find out, my pretty one," he said decisively, "for it has got to be done somehow, or that gold watch we spoke of the other day will have to go to somebody else. And you know when I say a thing I mean it. Eh?" "There is a duplicate key," she whispered shyly, ". . . to the back door, I mean." "I thought there was," he remarked dryly. "Where is it?" "In the next room. . . . It hangs on a nail by father's bedside." "Go and get it, then," he said more impatiently. "Not now," she urged. "Leopold is looking straight at you and me." He shrugged his aristocratic shoulders. "You are not afraid of that monkey?" he said with a laugh. "Well, no! not exactly afraid. But he is so insanely jealous; one never knows what kind of mischief he'll get into. He told me just now that whenever father is away from home he takes his stand outside this house from nightfall till morning--watching!" "A modern Argus--eh?" "A modern lunatic!" she retorted. "Well!" resumed the young man lightly, "lunatic or not, he won't be able to keep an eye on you to-night, even though your father will be away." "How do you mean?" "Hirsch is off to

after

How many times the word 'after' appears in the text?

ticked off on her long, pointed fingers the last bevy of her admirers on whom she might reasonably count: the son of the chemist over in Arad, the tenant of the Kender Road farm, the proprietor of the station cabs, and there were two or three others; but they were certainly falling away, and she had added no new ones to her list these past six months. Er s B la's formally declared engagement to Kapus Elsa had been a very severe blow. She had really reckoned on B la. He was educated and unconventional, and though he professed the usual anti-Semitic views peculiar to his kind, Klara did not believe that these were very genuine. At any rate, she had reckoned that her fine eyes and provocative ways would tilt successfully against the man's racial prejudices. Er s B la was rich and certainly, up to a point, in love with her. Klara was congratulating herself on the way she was playing her matrimonial cards, when all her hopes were so suddenly dashed to the ground. B la was going to marry that silly, ignorant peasant girl, and she, Klara, would be left to marry Leopold after all. Her anger and humiliation had been very great, and she had battled very persistently and very ably to regain the prize which she had lost. She knew quite well that, but for the fact that she belonged to the alien and despised race, Er s B la would have been only too happy to marry her. His vanity alone had made him choose Kapus Elsa. He wanted the noted beauty for himself, because the noted beauty had been courted by so many people, and where so many people had failed he was proud to succeed. Nor would he have cared to have it said that he had married a Jewess. There is always a certain thought of disgrace attached to such a marriage, whether it has been contracted by peer or peasant, and Er s B la's one dominating idea in life was to keep the respect and deference of his native village. But he had continued his attentions to Klara, and Klara had kept a wonderful hold over his imagination and over his will. She was the one woman who had ever had her will with him--only partially, of course, and not to the extent of forcing him into matrimony--but sufficiently to keep him also dangling round her skirts even though his whole allegiance should have belonged to Elsa. The banquet this afternoon had been a veritable triumph. Whatever she had suffered through B la's final disloyalty to herself, she knew that Kapus Elsa must have suffered all through the banquet. The humiliation of seeing one's bridegroom openly flaunting his admiration for another woman must have been indeed very bitter to bear. Not for a moment did Klara Goldstein doubt that the subsequent scene was an act of vengeance against herself on Elsa's part. She judged other women by her own standard, discounted other women's emotions, thoughts, feelings, by her own. She thought it quite natural that Elsa should wish to be revenged, just as she was quite sure that B la was already meditating some kind of retaliation for the shame which Andor had put upon him and for Elsa's obstinacy and share in the matter. She had not spoken to anyone of the little scene which had occurred between the four walls of the little schoolroom: on the contrary she had spoken loudly of both the bridegroom's and the bride's cordiality to her during the banquet. "Elsa wanted me to go to the dancing this evening," she said casually, "but I thought you would all miss me. I didn't want this place to be dull just because half the village is enjoying itself somewhere else." It had been market day at Arad, and at about five o'clock Klara and her father became very busy. Cattle-dealers and pig-merchants, travellers and pedlars, dropped in for a glass of silvorium and a chat with the good-looking Jewess. More than one bargain, discussed on the marketplace of Arad, was concluded in the stuffy tap-room of Marosfalva. "Shall we be honoured by the young Count's presence later on?" someone asked, with a significant nod to Klara. Everyone laughed in sympathy; the admiration of the noble young Count for Klara Goldstein was well-known. There was nothing in it, of course; even Klara, vain and ambitious as she was, knew that the bridge which divided the aristocrat from one of her kind and of her race was an impassable one. But she liked the young Count's attentions--she liked the presents he brought her from time to time, and relished the notoriety which this flirtation gave her. She also loved to tease poor Leopold Hirsch. Leo had been passionately in love with her for years; what he must have endured in moral and mental torture during that time through his jealousy and often groundless suspicions no one who did not know him intimately could ever have guessed. These tortures which Klara wantonly inflicted upon the wretched young man had been a constant source of amusement to her. Even now she was delighted because, as luck would have it, he entered the tap-room at the very moment when everyone was chaffing her about the young Count. Leopold Hirsch cast a quick, suspicious glance upon the girl, and his dull olive skin assumed an almost greenish hue. He was not of prepossessing appearance; this he knew himself, and the knowledge helped to keep his jealousy and his suspicion aflame. He was short and lean of stature and his head, with its large, bony features, seemed too big for his narrow shoulders to carry. His ginger-coloured hair was lank and scanty; he wore it--after the manner of those of his race in that part of the world--in corkscrew ringlets down each side of his narrow, cadaverous-looking face. His eyes were pale and shifty, but every now and then there shot into them a curious gleam of unbridled passion--love, hate or revenge; and then the whole face would light up and compel attention by the revelation of latent power. This had happened now when a fellow who sat in the corner by the window made some rough jest about the young Count. Leopold made his way to Klara's side; his thin lips were tightly pressed together, and he had buried his hands in the pockets of his ill-fitting trousers. "If that accursed aristocrat comes hanging round here much more, Klara," he muttered between set teeth, "I'll kill him one of these days." "What a fool you are, Leopold!" she said. "Why, yesterday it was Er s B la you objected to." "And I do still," he retorted. "I heard of your conduct at the banquet to-day. It is the talk of the village. One by one these loutish peasants have come into my shop and told me the tale--curse them!--of how the bridegroom had eyes and ears only for you. You seem to forget, Klara," he added, while a thought of menace crept into his voice, "that you are tokened to me now. So don't try and make a fool of me, or . . ." "The Lord bless you, my good man," she retorted, with a laugh, "I won't try, I promise you. I wouldn't like to compete with the Almighty, who has done that for you already." "Klara . . ." he exclaimed. "Oh! be quiet now, Leo," she said impatiently. "Can't you see that my hands are as full as I can manage, without my having to bother about you and your jealous tempers?" She elbowed him aside and went to the counter to serve a customer who had just arrived, and more than a quarter of an hour went by before Leopold had the chance of another word with her. "You might have a kind word for me to-night, Klara," he said ruefully, as soon as a brief lull in business enabled him to approach the girl. "Why specially to-night?" she asked indifferently. "Your father must go by the night train to Kecskem t," he said, with seeming irrelevance. "There is that business about the plums." "The plums?" she asked, with a frown of puzzlement, "what plums?" "The fruit he bought near Kecskem t. They start gathering at sunrise to-morrow. He must be there the first hour, else he'd get shamefully robbed. He must travel by night." "I knew nothing about it," rejoined Klara, with an indifferent shrug of the shoulders. "Father never tells me when he is going to be away from home." "No!" retorted Leopold, with a sneer, "he knows better than to give all your gallants such a brilliant opportunity." "Don't be a fool, Leo!" she reiterated with a laugh. "I don't give any of them an opportunity, either," resumed the young man, while a curious look of almost animal ferocity crept into his pale face. "Whenever your father has to be away from home during the night, I take up my position outside this house and watch over you until daylight comes and people begin to come and go." "Very thoughtful of you, my good Leo," she rejoined dryly, "but you need not give yourself the trouble. I am well able to look after myself." "If any man molested you," continued Leopold, speaking very calmly, "I would kill him." "Who should molest me, you silly fool? And anyhow, I won't have you spying upon me like that." "You must not call it spying, Klara. I love to stand outside this house in the peace and darkness of the night, and to think of you quietly sleeping whilst I am keeping watch over you. You wouldn't call a watchdog a spy, would you?" "I know that to-night I shan't sleep a wink," she retorted crossly, "once father has gone. I shall always be thinking of you out there in the dark, watching this house. It will make me nervous." "To-night . . ." he began, and then abruptly checked himself. Once more that quick flash of passion shot through his pale, deep-set eyes. It seemed as if he meant to tell her something, which on second thoughts he decided to keep to himself. Her keen, dark eyes searched his face for a moment or two; she wondered what it was that lurked behind that high, smooth forehead of his and within the depths of that curiously perverted brain. Before she had time, however, to question him, Er s B la made noisy irruption into the room. He was greeted with a storm of cheers. "Hello, B la!" "Not the bridegroom, surely?" "Who would have thought of seeing you here?" While Leopold Hirsch muttered audibly: "What devil's mischief has brought this fellow here to-day, I wonder?" B la seemed in boisterous good-humour--with somewhat ostentatious hilarity he greeted all his friends, and then ordered some of Ign cz Goldstein's best wine for everybody all round. "Bravo, B la!" came from every side, together with loud applause at this unexpected liberality. "It is nice of you not to forget old friends," Klara whispered in his ear, as soon as he succeeded in reaching her side. "Whew!" he ejaculated with a sneer, "you have no idea, my good Klara, how I've been boring myself these past two hours. Those loutish peasants have no idea of enjoyment save their eternal gipsy music and their interminable cs rd s." "For a man of your education, B la," said Klara, with an insinuating smile, "it must be odiously dull. You would far rather have had a game of cards, wouldn't you now?" "I would far rather have had you at that infernal dance, so as to have had somebody to talk to," he retorted savagely. "Oh!" she said demurely, "that would never have done. Elsa must have such a lot to say to you herself. It would not be seemly for me to stand in the way." "Elsa, as you know, has that silly cs rd s on the brain. She has been dancing ever since six o'clock and has only given me about ten minutes of her company. She seems to belong to-night to every young fool that can dance, rather than to me." "Ah well! When you are married you can stop all that, my good B la. You can forbid your wife to dance the cs rd s, you know. I know many men who do it. Then Elsa will learn to appreciate the pleasure of your conversation. Though she is no longer very young, she is still very ignorant. You will have to educate her . . . bring her up to your own level of intelligence and of learning. In the meanwhile, do sit down and drink with those who, like yourself, have come here for an hour or two to break the monotony of perpetual czig ny music and dancing." She busied herself with drawing the corks of a number of bottles, which she then transferred from the end of the room where she stood to the tables at which sat her customers; she also brought out some fresh glasses. B la watched her for a moment or two in silence, unconscious of the fact that he, too, was being watched by a pair of pale eyes in which lurked a gleam of jealousy and of hate. Suddenly, as Klara brushed past him carrying bottles and glasses, he took hold of her by the elbow and drew her close to him. "These louts won't stay late to-night, will they?" he whispered in her ear. "No, not late," she replied; "they will go on to the barn in time for the supper, you may be sure of that. Why do you ask?" "I will have the supper served at ten o'clock," he continued to whisper, "but I'll not sit down to it. Not without you." "Don't be foolish, B la," she retorted. But even as he spoke, a little gleam of satisfaction, of gratified vanity, of anticipatory revenge, shot through her velvety dark eyes. "I warned Elsa," he continued sullenly; "I told her that if you were not at the feast, I should not be there either. She has disobeyed me. I must punish her." "So?" she rejoined, with an acid smile. "It is only in order to punish Elsa that you want to sup with me?" "Don't be stupid, Klara," he retorted. "I'll come at ten o'clock. Will you have some supper ready for me then? I have two or three bottles of French champagne over at my house--I'll bring them along. Will you be ready for me?" "Be silent, B la," she broke in hurriedly. "Can't you see that that fool Leo is watching us all the time?" "Curse, him! What have I got to do with him?" muttered B la savagely. "You will be ready for me, Klara?" "No!" she said decisively. "Better make your peace with Elsa. I'll have none of her leavings. I've had all I wanted out of you to-day--the banquet first and now your coming here. . . . It'll be all over the village presently--and that's all I care about. Have a drink now," she added good-humouredly, "and then go and make your peace with Elsa . . . if you can." She turned abruptly away from him, leaving him to murmur curses under his breath, and went on attending to her customers; nor did he get for the moment another opportunity of speaking with her, for Leopold Hirsch hovered round her for some considerable time after that, and presently, with much noise and pomp and circumstance, no less a personage than the noble young Count himself graced the premises of Ign cz Goldstein the Jew with his august presence. CHAPTER XIX "Now go and fetch the key." He belonged to the ancient family of R kosy, who had owned property on both banks of the Maros for the past eight centuries, and Feri R kosy, the twentieth-century representative of his medi val forbears, was a good-looking young fellow of the type so often met with among the upper classes in Hungary: quite something English in appearance--well set-up, well-dressed, well-groomed from the top of his smooth brown hair to the tips of his immaculately-shod feet--in the eyes an expression of habitual boredom, further accentuated by the slight, affected stoop of the shoulders and a few premature lines round the nose and mouth; and about his whole personality that air of high-breeding and of good, pure blood which is one of the chief characteristics of the true Hungarian aristocracy. He did little more than acknowledge the respectful salutations which greeted him from every corner of the little room as he entered, but he nodded to Er s B la and smiled all over his good-looking face at Klara, who, in her turn, welcomed him with a profusion of smiles which brought a volley of muttered curses to Leopold Hirsch's lips. While he held her one hand rather longer than was necessary she, with the other, took his hat from him, and then, laughing coquettishly, she pointed to a parcel which was causing the pocket of his well-cut Norfolk jacket to bulge immoderately. "Is that something for me?" she asked. "Of course it is," he replied lightly; "I bought it at the fair in Arad for you to-day." "How thoughtful of you!" she said, with a little sigh of pleasure. "Thoughtful?" he retorted, laughing pleasantly. "My good Klara, if I hadn't thought of you I would have died of boredom this afternoon. Here, give me a glass of your father's best wine and I'll tell you." He sat down with easy familiarity on the corner of the table which served as a counter. Klara, after this, had eyes and ears only for him. How could it be otherwise, seeing that it was not often a noble lord graced a village tap-room with his presence. Conversations round the room were now carried on in whispers; tarok cards were produced and here and there a game was in progress. Those who had drunk overmuch made themselves as inconspicuous as they could, drawing themselves closely against the wall, or frankly reclining across the table with arms outstretched and heads buried between them out of sight. An atmosphere of subdued animation and decorum reigned in the place; not a few men, oppressed by their sense of respect for my lord, had effected a quiet exit through the door, preferring the jovial atmosphere of the barn, from whence came, during certain hushed moments, the sounds of music and of laughter. The young man--whose presence caused all this revulsion in the usually noisy atmosphere of the tap-room--took no heed whatever of anything that went on around him: he seemed unconscious alike of the deference of the peasants as of the dark, menacing scowl with which Leopold Hirsch regarded him. He certainly did not bestow a single glance on Er s B la who, at my lord's appearance, had retreated into the very darkest corner of the room. B la did not care to encounter the young Count's sneering remarks just now--and these would of a certainty have been levelled against the bridegroom who was sitting in a tap-room when he should have been in attendance on his bride. But indeed my lord never saw him. To this young scion of a noble race, which had owned land and serfs for centuries past, these peasants here were of no more account than his oxen or his sheep--nor was the owner of a village shop of any more consequence in my lord's eyes. He came here because there was a good-looking Jewess in the tap-room whose conversation amused him, and whose dark, velvety eyes, fringed with long lashes, and mouth with full, red lips, stirred his jaded senses in a more pleasant and more decided way than did the eyes and lips of the demure, well-bred young Countesses and Baronesses who formed his usual social circle. Whether his flirtation with Klara, the Jewess, annoyed the girl's Jew lover or not, did not matter to him one jot; on the contrary the jealousy of that dirty lout Hirsch enhanced his amusement to a considerable extent. Therefore he did not take the trouble to lower his voice now when he talked to Klara, and it was quite openly that he put his arm round her waist while he held his glass to her lips--"To sweeten your father's vinegar!" he said with a laugh. "You know, my pretty Klara," he said gaily, "that I was half afraid I shouldn't see you to-day at all." "No?" she asked coquettishly. "No, by gad! My father was so soft-hearted to allow Er s a day off for his wedding or something, and so, if you please, I had to go to Arad with him, as he had to see about a sale of clover. I thought we should never get back. The roads were abominable." "I hardly expected your lordship," she said demurely. To punish her for that little lie, he tweaked her small ear till it became a bright crimson. "That is to punish you for telling such a lie," he said gaily. "You know that I meant to come and say good-bye." "Your lordship goes to-morrow?" she asked with a sigh. "To shoot bears, my pretty Klara," he replied. "I don't want to go. I would rather stay another week here for you to amuse me, you know." "I am proud . . ." she whispered. "So much do you amuse me that I have brought you a present, just to show you that I thought of you to-day and because I want you not to forget me during the three months that I shall be gone." He drew the parcel out of his pocket and, turning his back to the rest of the room, he cut the string and undid the paper that wrapped it. The contents of the parcel proved to be a morocco case, which flew open at a touch and displayed a gold curb chain bracelet--the dream of Klara Goldstein's desires. "For me?" she said, with a gasp of delight. "For your pretty arm, yes," he replied. "Shall I put it on?" She cast a swift, apprehensive glance round the room over his shoulder. "No, no, not now," she said quickly. "Why not?" "Father mightn't like it. I'd have to ask him." "D----n your father!" "And that fool, Leopold, is so insanely jealous." "D----n him too," said the young man quietly. Whereupon he took the morocco case out of Klara's hand, shut it with a snap and put it back into his pocket. "What are you doing?" cried Klara in a fright. "As you see, pretty one, I am putting the bracelet away for future use." "But . . ." she stammered. "If I can't put the bracelet on your arm myself," he said decisively, "you shan't have it at all." "But . . ." "That is my last word. Let us talk of something else." "No, no! We won't talk of something else. You said the bracelet was for me." She cast a languishing look on him through her long upper lashes; she bared her wrist and held it out to him. Leopold and his jealousy might go hang for aught she cared, for she meant to have the bracelet. The young man, with a fatuous little laugh, brought out the case once more. With his own hands he now fastened the bracelet round Klara Goldstein's wrist. Then--as a matter of course--he kissed her round, brown arm just above the bracelet, and also the red lips through which the words of thanks came quickly tumbling. Klara did not dare to look across the room. She felt, though she did not see, Leopold's pale eyes watching this little scene with a glow in them of ferocious hate and of almost animal rage. "I won't stay now, Klara," said the young Count, dropping his voice suddenly to a whisper; "too many of these louts about. When will you be free?" "Oh, not to-day," she whispered in reply. "After the fair there are sure to be late-comers. And you know Er s B la has a ball on at the barn and supper afterwards. . . ." "The very thing," he broke in, in an eager whisper. "While they are all at supper, I'll come in for a drink and a chat. . . . Ten o'clock, eh?" "Oh, no, no!" she protested feebly. "My father wouldn't like it, he . . ." "D----n your father, my dear, as I remarked before. And, as a matter of fact, your father is not going to be in the way at all. He goes to Kecskem t by the night train." "How do you know that?" "My father told me quite casually that Goldstein was seeing to some business for him at Kecskem t to-morrow. So it was not very difficult to guess that if your father was to be in Kecskem t to-morrow in time to transact business, he would have to travel up by the nine o'clock train this evening in order to get there." Then, as she made no reply, and a blush of pleasure gradually suffused her dark skin, lending it additional charm and giving to her eyes added brilliancy, he continued, more peremptorily this time: "At ten o'clock, then--I'll come back. Get rid of as many of these louts by then as you can." She was only too ready to yield. Not only was she hugely flattered by my lord's attentions, but she found him excessively attractive. He could make himself very agreeable to a woman if he chose, and evidently he chose to do so now. Moreover Klara had found by previous experience that to yield to the young man's varied and varying caprices was always remunerative, and there was that gold watch which he had once vaguely promised her, and which she knew she could get out of him if she had the time and opportunity, as she certainly would have to-night if he came. Count Feri, seeing that she had all but yielded, was preparing to go. Her hand was still in his, and he was pressing her slender fingers in token of a pledge for this evening. "At ten o'clock," he whispered again. "No, no," she protested once more, but this time he must have known that she only did it for form's sake and really meant to let him have his way. "The neighbours would see you enter, and there might be a whole lot of people in the tap-room at that hour: one never knows. They would know by then that my father had gone away and they would talk such scandal about me. My reputation . . ." No doubt he felt inclined to ejaculate in his usual manner: "D----n your reputation!" but he thought better of it, and merely said casually: "I need not come in by the front door, need I?" "The back door is always locked," she remarked ingenuously. "My father invariably locks it himself the last thing at night." "But since he is going to Kecskem t . . ." he suggested. "When he has to be away from home for the night he locks the door from the inside and takes the key away with him." "Surely there is a duplicate key somewhere? . . ." "I don't know," she murmured. "If you don't know, who should?" he remarked, with affected indifference. "Well! I shall have to make myself heard at the back door--that's all!" "How?" "Wouldn't you hear me if I knocked?" "Not if I were in the tap-room and a lot of customers to attend to." "Well, then, I should hammer away until you did hear me." "For that old gossip R zi to hear you," she protested. "Her cottage is not fifty paces away from our back door." "Then it will have to be the front door, after all," he rejoined philosophically. "No, no!--the neighbours--and perhaps the tap-room full of people." "But d----n it, Klara," he exclaimed impatiently, "I have made up my mind to come and spend my last evening with you--and when I have made up my mind to a thing, I am not likely to change it because of a lot of gossiping peasants, because of old R zi, or the whole lot of them. So if you don't want me to come in by the front door, which is open, or to knock at the back door, which is locked, how am I going to get in?" "I don't know." "Well, then, you'll have to find out, my pretty one," he said decisively, "for it has got to be done somehow, or that gold watch we spoke of the other day will have to go to somebody else. And you know when I say a thing I mean it. Eh?" "There is a duplicate key," she whispered shyly, ". . . to the back door, I mean." "I thought there was," he remarked dryly. "Where is it?" "In the next room. . . . It hangs on a nail by father's bedside." "Go and get it, then," he said more impatiently. "Not now," she urged. "Leopold is looking straight at you and me." He shrugged his aristocratic shoulders. "You are not afraid of that monkey?" he said with a laugh. "Well, no! not exactly afraid. But he is so insanely jealous; one never knows what kind of mischief he'll get into. He told me just now that whenever father is away from home he takes his stand outside this house from nightfall till morning--watching!" "A modern Argus--eh?" "A modern lunatic!" she retorted. "Well!" resumed the young man lightly, "lunatic or not, he won't be able to keep an eye on you to-night, even though your father will be away." "How do you mean?" "Hirsch is off to

mouth

How many times the word 'mouth' appears in the text?

to a colleague. Puts out his cigarette with purpose. JAMAL Let's go, bhai. Salim and Jamal run. The girl follows. 22. 33 EXT. MUMBAI. EVENING. 33 Salim and Jamal stand on a hill overlooking the city. Black smoke billows from a large area that is clearly the Juhu slum. Standing a little way off is the girl. JAMAL We should go back. Silence. JAMAL (CONT'D) See if Ama- Salim shakes his head fiercely, silencing Jamal for a moment. But only a moment. JAMAL (CONT'D) What about Jeevan Chacha? Salim shakes his head. JAMAL (CONT'D) Maybe he- Salim shakes his head again. SALIM - I saw him. He was with them. JAMAL But he wouldn't hurt- SALIM - he was with them! JAMAL But- SALIM - shut up, Jamal, can't you? Just shut up! Salim turns away and sees the girl. Picks up a rock and hurls it at her. She dodges, takes a couple of steps back but makes no real attempt to get away. He finds another rock and hurls this in her direction too. SALIM (CONT'D) Ja! Then a flash of lightning and thunder rumbles across the city. Rain begins to come down. JAMAL What shall we do? (CONTINUED) 23. 33 CONTINUED: 33 No answer. Jamal sits down. Salim sits down. At a distance, the girl sits down. Rain pours down their faces. 34 INT. BUILDER'S YARD. NIGHT. 34 Rain as you've never seen. A pile of huge water pipes in a sprawling builder's yard. Jamal is in one pipe, Salim above him in another. They are both soaked, shivering, but have found some plastic sheet to wrap themselves in. Outside, thirty feet away, stands the girl. Staring. Salim hisses angrily at the girl. SALIM Go away. Ja, ja! The girl might not even have heard. SALIM (CONT'D) She'll have the Security Guard onto us, standing there. JAMAL Not if we let her in. SALIM No. JAMAL She could be the third musketeer. SALIM I am the head of this family, now. And I say no. Piss off, you. Salim huddles down in the pipe. After a while, Jamal follows suit. SALIM (CONT'D) We don't even know what the third musketeer's called. 35 EXT. JUHU SLUM. DAY 35 A flash of Jamal's mother being clubbed to the ground. Her scream. 36 INT. BUILDER'S YARD. LATER. 36 Jamal wakes with a jolt and a scream half-swallowed in his mouth. He shuts his eyes tight, trying to force the image out. His breathing slows and he sees the girl staring at him. Salim, too, is staring into nothing. The rain is still falling. (CONTINUED) 24. 36 CONTINUED: 36 The girl goes back to drawing shapes in the mud with her finger. Jamal climbs out of the pipe. Looks at Salim for permission or refusal, but he just continues to stare. So, Jamal walks across to her. She looks up, wary. JAMAL Where's your Mother? Silence. JAMAL (CONT'D) Father? The girl shakes her head slightly. Jamal takes the plastic sheet from around his shoulders. Gives it to her. JAMAL (CONT'D) I'm Jamal. He's Salim. LATIKA Latika. Jamal goes back to his water pipe, climbs in. Watches her huddled under the sheet. Sighs, motions for her to join him. She darts across, jumps into the water pipe and huddles up next to Jamal. 37 INT. INSPECTOR'S OFFICE. DAY. 37 Jamal looks at the Inspector. JAMAL I wake up every morning wishing I didn't know the answer to that question? If it wasn't for Ram and Allah, I would still have a Mother. 38 INT. STUDIO. NIGHT 38 JAMAL D) A bow and arrow. PREM Final answer? JAMAL Final answer. Prem stares at him for dramatic effect. Presses his computer. PREM Computer-ji, D lock kiya-jaye. (CONTINUED) 25. 38 CONTINUED: 38 The lights dim, the music swells. PREM (CONT'D) Jamal Malik, you answered D? Ram is depicted with a bow and arrow in his hand. And guess what? You've just won sixteen thousand rupees! Well done, my friend. Time for a commercial break- don't go away, now. Music, applause. Prem switches off his professional smile. Gets up. PREM (CONT'D) Got lucky, huh? I'd take the money. You'll never get the next one. JAMAL You're from the Juhu slum, aren't you? PREM Hmm? Sure. Know where I live now, kid? Pali Hill. Twelve bedrooms, a/c in every room, two kitchens, a gym and a screening room. Steel balls is what it takes, my friend, steel balls. The Floor Manager comes over and gives his head-phones set to Prem. Prem listens. DIRECTOR V/O Prem? Tone it down, for goodness sake. You're making him a laughing stock. Prem glances up at the gallery with contempt. PREM We're having fun here. They love it...Where the hell do you get them from? He makes no attempt to hide the conversation from Jamal. DIRECTOR V/O It's supposed to be a quiz show, not a blood sport. FLOOR MANAGER Two minutes. (CONTINUED) 26. 38 CONTINUED: (2) 38 PREM Stop wetting your pants. I'll be a good little boy with the next one. Promise. He chucks the head-phones back at the Floor Manager. Glances in the wings. Sees Nita, the make-up woman. Gets up and goes over. 39 INT. STUDIO. BACKSTAGE. NIGHT. 39 In the half-light, backstage, Nita dabs his face with powder. PREM Meet me after the show. Please. NITA No. PREM Nita, I can explain. NITA No need. I read it in bloody Stardust. Didn't even have the balls to tell me. "Prem's happiness with another baby on the way". After everything you said... PREM Baby, it all happened before I met you. I swear to you. NITA She's got the gestation period of an elephant, then. Prem is about to object. But instead, he laughs. PREM You see? Amidst all this misery, only you can make me laugh. Scornful but hints of melting. NITA All this misery... PREM Her and I- nothing. You have to believe me, baby... Nita turns away. The Floor Manager comes over. FLOOR MANAGER One minute. (CONTINUED) 27. 39 CONTINUED: 39 Prem slings himself in a chair. PREM No. I'm not going on. NITA Prem... PREM I can't. Without you, it's all pointless. Clicks his fingers at the Floor Manager. PREM (CONT'D) You. Tell the Director. Nita shakes her head at the Floor Manager who by now is looking very worried. FLOOR MANAGER Thirty seconds. Prem shrugs and folds his arms. Sees her weaken. NITA Prem... PREM Calypso Bar, private room, just you and me? FLOOR MANAGER Fifteen. NITA (furious) Alright. He grins, jumps up, blows her a kiss, and stalks back on stage. 40 INT. STUDIO. NIGHT. 40 He sits back down, says almost to himself. PREM Steel balls. Turns to Jamal. PREM (CONT'D) Okay, Juhu boy, you've had a good run. Take your Mother to Khandala and eat some chiki. JAMAL My Mother's dead. (CONTINUED) 28. 40 CONTINUED: 40 PREM Well, your girlfriend then. Even better. JAMAL I don't have a girl-friend. PREM Live wire like you? You surprise me. FLOOR MANAGER Five, four... The warm-up man starts the applause. TALKBACK V/O ....three, two, one... Cheering and music. Prem switches on his charm. PREM Welcome back to Who Wants to be a Millionaire! Our contestant, Jamal Malik, Call Centre Assistant- from Mumbai, is on sixteen thousand rupees and has already used one lifeline: Ask the Audience. So, my friend: are you ready for the next question? JAMAL Yes. PREM Then, let's play. Portentous music. The lights dim. PREM (CONT'D) For sixty-four thousand rupees. The British architect Frederick Stevens designed which famous building in India? Is it: A) The Taj Mahal. B) Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus. C) India Gate. D) Howrah Bridge. What do you think, Jamal? Are you one of those tea-boys with a penchant for architecture? 41 INT. CHHATRAPATI SHIVAJI TERMINUS. DAY. 41 Known to everyone as VT station, this monument to Victorian railway architecture is a dangerous place to be at rush hour. (CONTINUED) 29. 41 CONTINUED: 41 Even before the train has stopped, men are jumping from the open doors, or vaulting out of the windows or from the roof of the train to join the tens of thousands of Mumbaites streaming to and from work. A seventeen-year old Jamal squeezes himself out of a train and shoves through the crowds. He checks the time. The digital numerals flick to five O'clock. Looks around the tide of humanity. 42 INT. STUDIO. NIGHT. 42 PREM So, what's it to be? Walk away and this cheque for sixteen thousand rupees is yours. Look, it's even got your name on it. He produces a cheque and waves it at Jamal. JAMAL I don't have a bank account. Laughter from the audience. Prem is momentarily wrong- footed. JAMAL (CONT'D) But I'll take cash. More laughter, this time with Jamal, rather than at him. Prem gets up and starts rummaging theatrically through his jacket pockets and trousers. PREM Nope. Looks like the Producer's stolen my wallet again- JAMAL - I'll play. Nobody was expecting this. Least of all Prem who has to rearrange his features into one of surprised delight. He sits down. PREM You'll play? JAMAL Why not? PREM Well, well, well. We've got a wild one, here. Prem tears up the cheque with theatrical slowness. (CONTINUED) 30. 42 CONTINUED: 42 PREM (CONT'D) For sixty-four thousand rupees, Ladies and Gentlemen, the question once again.... 43 INT. CHHATRAPATI SHIVAJI TERMINUS. DAY. 43 The digital clocks show five fifteen. Shoving the descending river of people out of his way, the eighteen year-old Jamal is forging a path up steps that cross the platforms. He pushes to the middle of the footbridge and leans out on the side railings. He scans the sea of people, desperately. Then he sees her: the eighteen year-old Latika, heart-stoppingly beautiful, over the other side of the station. A world away. She is scanning the crowd, as wired as he is. JAMAL Latika! Latika! But though he is screaming her name, his voice is swallowed by the noise around him. Then he sees two thuggish-looking men also fighting a way towards her. JAMAL (CONT'D) Latika! Frightened now, he fights his way down the steps, one figure against an army of white-robed people. JAMAL (CONT'D) Latika! JAMAL V/O Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus. PREM V/O Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus. Sure? JAMAL V/O I think so. PREM V/O You think so. A brave man, Ladies and Gentlemen, a brave man. 44 INT. CHHATRAPATI SHIVAJI TERMINUS. DAY. 44 The commuters have mostly gone. Jamal is pacing the platform desperately. He stops, stares blankly at the statue in front of him- a proud, rather pompous figure in a Victorian frock coat. The plaque reads: Frederick Stevens. 31. 45 INT. INSPECTOR'S OFFICE. NIGHT. 45 The Inspector, Srinivas and Jamal are staring at the video recorder. JAMAL Yes. Final answer. Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus. PREM Is the right answer! Sixty-four thousand rupees to you, Sir! Applause and music. The Inspector presses pause. Stares at Jamal. INSPECTOR And did she come back? Jamal smiles sadly. JAMAL I wouldn't be here if she had. INSPECTOR Pretty was she? Jamal stares down at his feet. INSPECTOR (CONT'D) Guess not. Right in the eyes. JAMAL The most beautiful woman in the world. Constable Srinivas snorts. Suddenly, Jamal is out of his chair and at Srinivas' throat. The combined force of the Inspector and Srinivas force him roughly back down. He is again handcuffed to the chair. INSPECTOR OF POLICE Well, well. The slum dog barks. Money or women. The reason for most mistakes in life. Looks like you got mixed up with both. Srinivas, you need the exercise: a trip to VT Station to check on the statue. And lock your bloody bike up. Constable Srinivas swears under his breath but bumbles out. (CONTINUED) 32. 45 CONTINUED: 45 INSPECTOR That's the chutiy out the way. Now, man to man. How did you know all the answers? JAMAL If I knew, I'd tell you. 46 OMITTED 46 47 OMITTED 47 48 INT. STUDIO. NIGHT. 48 PREM Now we're into the serious money. For two hundred and fifty thousand rupees, ladies and gentlemen, a quarter of a million rupees...the song Chalo Ri Murali was written by which famous Indian poet. Was it A) Surdas. B) Tulsidas. C) Mira Bai. D) Kabir. Remember you still have two lifelines- fifty- fifty and Phone A Friend. Tempted to use one? JAMAL No. PREM No? JAMAL I know this one. PREM Oh. I see. An expert on the poets, huh? The lights dim, the music swells and Prem presses his computer. 49 EXT. MUMBAI STREET. NIGHT. 49 Jamal is studying a piece of paper and reading out numbers from it. There is something not quite right about Jamal- perhaps the fact that there are two feet by his ears. Salim is standing on his shoulders and spraying the numbers on a wall with an aerosol and a certain lack of confidence. (CONTINUED) 33. 49 CONTINUED: 49 JAMAL Four, nine, zero, nine- the one with the stick going down, Salim- six- stick going up- Latika's head appears from around the corner. LATIKA (whispered) Oi! But they don't hear. Then she is running for her life past the pair of them. JAMAL Six, one, shit, let's go- Salim collapses off Jamal's shoulders and all three run off down an alley past a dozen of the gang's sprayed-on adverts all reading: "Beanbags- 989 4909661". A fat Security Guard with a long stick huffs round the corner. Chases them up an alley. Nowhere to go except through an imposing gate that clearly leads to a private house. SECURITY GUARD Got you now, little shits. 50 EXT. GARDEN. NIGHT. 50 They charge across the lawn, down one side of the house where all the washing is hanging. The Guard gets caught up in drying sheets, towels. He fights his way through to see Salim, Latika and Jamal leaping over the wall to safety. But Jamal turns, jumps back and grabs a girl's dress from the line. SECURITY GUARD Aha! Little thief! The Security Guard lands a couple of blows on Jamal's back as he dodges around him and back across the lawn, dress in hand. The Security Guard gives up. SECURITY GUARD (CONT'D) Pervert! 51 INT. ALLEY. NIGHT. 51 Jamal is examing the bruises on his legs. SALIM Useless bloody look-out. What good is she, huh? (CONTINUED) 34. 51 CONTINUED: 51 LATIKA (infuriated) I tried to warn you. JAMAL It's okay, Salim. Latika slips on the dress. Spins. Both of them look up. Stare. She pulls her hair back, smiles, is transformed into a beautiful girl. 52 EXT. GORAI BEACH DUMPING GROUND. DAY. 52 Blazing sun. Diggers and trucks are shifting mounds of rubble on a rubbish dump that seems to stretch for ever. Oblivious to the dust kicked up by the trucks, Latika is picking up old plastic bags, examining each one and putting the less worn in a big sack. The dress is recognisable but dusty and torn. She stoops to dig another bag out of the dirt, but stops and stares. Shimmering in the heat, a rickety pick-up truck comes through the rubbish dump gates. Toots at the Guard who waves, pulls up in the dump. "Hope Orphanage is written on the side of the van. A man gets out. Looks around. 53 INT. `TENT'. DAY. 53 Under sheets of plastic propped up on sticks, Jamal and Salim are sleeping out the hottest part of the day. Jamal wakes to see a figure standing over him- a silhouette with a halo of sun behind him. Out of his bag, the man produces a bottle of Thumbs Up. He uncaps it with an alluring hiss. It is almost an advert for thirst-quenching affluence. Almost instinctively, Salim and Jamal stir. MAN Hello. He hands the bottle to Salim, gets another from his bag and waves it questioningly at Jamal. MAN (CONT'D) Hot, huh? My name is Maman. 54 EXT. ORPHANAGE. EVENING. 54 The hills on the edge of Bombay. Greenery and space, for the first time in the film. The pick-up truck pulls up outside a building with Jamal, Salim and Latika sitting on a bench in the back. Maman gets out. Drops the gate on the back of the pick-up. MAMAN Anyone hungry? Come on in. 35. 55 INT. ORPHANAGE COURTYARD. EVENING. 55 Twenty children are eating at long benches in a ramshackle courtyard. Maman, ushers Jamal, Salim and Latika in and sits them down at one of the benches. He waves a hand and a giant man, Punnoose, comes over with a big bowl of food. The three tear into it. Cleaning every last morsel of rice from his plate, Jamal looks up and notices a table peopled entirely with blind or crippled children. Some of the legless are eating on the floor next to the table. Jamal leans over to Salim. JAMAL He must be a very good man to look after these people. SALIM (glancing at them) A saint. Arvind, a boy smaller than either Jamal or Salim overhears. ARVIND We're not allowed to talk to them. LATIKA Why not? Arvind shrugs. Latika licks her plate, glances at Maman who is looking right at them. LATIKA (CONT'D) Well, if there are seconds, Maman is definitely a Saint. As if telepathic, Maman signals to Punnoose and he brings a large bowl of rice and dhal over to them. Latika looks at Jamal and Salim. They burst out laughing. LATIKA (CONT'D) I tell you, Lord Siva is with us. 56 INT. ORPHANAGE. EVENING. 56 Salim, Latika, Jamal and a group of children are standing in a line singing a doha- ancient lyrics set to music. Maman is leading the singing, walking up and down the line listening to each one individually. He stops at one small boy, Arvind, and listens. Nods his head, pleased, and continues down the line until he stops in front of Jamal. Holds up his hand. MAMAN Stop! You. Again. (CONTINUED) 36. 56 CONTINUED: 56 Jamal starts singing again. He has the sweetest of voices. Untrained but pure. Maman smiles, ruffles Jamal's hair, impressed. MAMAN (CONT'D) Everyone. They all join in. Maman continues down the line. He stops at Salim whose octave-slipping singing is lusty and appallingly out of tune. Maman winces and moves on. Standing next to Salim, Latika giggles. Immediately, Salim is on her. Before a fight breaks out, Punnoose pulls Salim off Latika and hurls him across the room. Salim gets up and charges at Punnoose. For a second, Punnoose is back-footed, but then pins Salim's arms to his side. Maman laughs. Approaches Salim. MAMAN (CONT'D) You sing like one, and you fight like one. I think you've found your dog, Punnoose. 57 EXT. CENTRAL MUMBAI TRAFFIC. DAY. 57 A group of children are sitting in the jumble of concrete under a motorway flyover. Cars surround them, bumper to bumper. Latika and Jamal are playing an improvised hopscotch on concrete slabs. They are giggling, bumping into each other, tickling, laughing. Salim and Punnoose are sitting together, smoking. Salim is staring hard at Jamal and Latika until Punnoose grunts, a sign for Salim to clap his hands. SALIM Okay, let's go, let's go! It's not a bloody holiday! The children get to their feet. Latika sighs, puts a patch over her eye and grabs a pair of crutches. Suddenly, the lame beggar. Salim goes over to one of the girls, who is carrying a sleeping baby. Puts out his hand. SALIM (CONT'D) Give me that. The girl shakes her head. Salim grabs her by the hair in one hand and takes the baby with the other. He shoves her to the ground. The other children stare. JAMAL Hey, Salim! He challenges Jamal. SALIM What, chot bhai? You got a problem? (CONTINUED) 37. 57 CONTINUED: 57 He laughs and walks over to Latika. SALIM (CONT'D) Here. For you. LATIKA I don't want it. SALIM You'll earn double. I'm doing you a favour, Latika. JAMAL She doesn't want it. SALIM Chup, Jamal. Latika turns away and begins to walk towards the cars. SALIM (CONT'D) I'll drop it. He holds the baby up. Latika grabs the baby with a cry just as Salim releases it from his hands. Salim pinches the baby. SALIM (CONT'D) Triple if it's crying. Latika snatches it away. Salim laughs, goes back to sitting with Punnoose. The children scatter to the cars trapped at the lights, tapping plaintively on the windows and making the universal begging gesture. 58 INT. ORPHANAGE. KITCHEN. NIGHT. 58 Surrounded by beer bottles, Punnoose is slumped asleep by the kitchen door. Latika edges past, avoids the cook sleeping under the table and goes to a shelf laden with vegetables. She pulls down a bunch of chillies still on the vine, strips a few off and tip-toes out with them. 59 INT. ORPHANAGE. DORMITORY. NIGHT. 59 Sleeping children, three or four to a mattress on the floor. Latika tip-toes around the mattresses. She pauses over one in particular where we see Salim, asleep. She carefully pulls up the sheet, delves underneath. Pleasant dreams cross Salim's sleeping face for a second. Then suddenly, he is bolt upright and screaming. He charges around the room clutching his genitals in agony. SALIM Madher chod...! (CONTINUED) 38. 59 CONTINUED: 59 He sprints out of the room, wailing. 60 INT. ORPHANAGE. SHOWERS. NIGHT. 60 The lights are on and two dozen children are screaming with laughter as Salim stands under the make-shift shower directing the water down his pants to his burning genitals, his face a picture of agony. Latika wipes crushed chillies from her hands. SALIM You're dead, sala. She smiles and walks past Jamal with a shrug. Then Punnoose comes stalking in and the children scatter away. PUNNOOSE Get back to bed, dogs! What the hell... JAMAL V/O They taught me every song in the history of Indian music. INSPECTOR V/O And why would they do that, I wonder? 61 INT. SHACK. NIGHT. 61 In a shack, Arvind is singing one of Surdas' bhajans in front of Maman and an old man who by his ragged appearance must be a villager. Punnoose and Salim sit behind Arvind. MAMAN Very good, very good. I am pleased, Arvind. He is ready. ARVIND Ready? Maman nods to Punnoose. Before Arvind can turn round, Punnoose has covered his mouth with a cloth and after the briefest of struggles, Arvind's body goes limp. The villager puts an old tin box on the table. Taking the lid from the tin, he brings out a cloth and unwraps it. Inside is a spoon. He checks the edge with his thumb. Sharp. Douses it with a clear liquid from a bottle and passes it over a candle flame. The spoon whooshes with a high flame for a moment. The villager wipes it with the cloth nods to Punnoose. PUNNOOSE Salim! (CONTINUED) 39. 61 CONTINUED: 61 Utterly bemused, Salim nevertheless helps Punnoose lay Arvind on the table. The villager takes hold of Arvind's eyelid and pulls it open. He brings the spoon close. Suddenly, Salim is being sick in the corner of the shack. By the time he has turned back, the villager is wiping the spoon on a blood-soaked rag. MAMAN Okay. Take him out the back. Punnoose picks up Arvind and carries him out. MAMAN (CONT'D) Now the other one. Salim, go get Jamal. A frozen moment. SALIM What? MAMAN Gunfighter Number One, isn't that right, Salim? The money, the women, the cars...you want them bad, huh? And why not? Maman gets out of his chair. Approaches Salim. MAMAN (CONT'D) The time has come to choose, yaar. The life of a slum dog or the life of a man. A real man. A gunfighter, Salim. Maman holds Salim's head in his hands. MAMAN (CONT'D) Your destiny is in your hands, bhai. You can be me. Or nobody. Understand? SALIM Yes, Maman. Maman nods. MAMAN So, brother, go get Jamal. Salim is frozen for another few seconds, then turns and walks out of the door. Punnoose appears at the door. Maman nods to him and he slips off after Salim. 62 INT. DORMITORY, ORPHANAGE. NIGHT. 62 All the children are asleep apart from Jamal who is crouched underneath a couple of wash-basins. (CONTINUED) 40. 62 CONTINUED: 62 He is talking through a plate-sized hole in the crumbling masonry. Latika's eyes can be seen. JAMAL ...weddings, government things, big parties. If Maman says my voice is ready. Big money. LATIKA Enough for a room? JAMAL Easily. Maybe an apartment. LATIKA Really? JAMAL That's what Arvind said. On Harbour Road. You, me and Salim. The three musketeers. LATIKA Harbour Road! We can have ice cream from Babanji's. JAMAL Every day if we want. Salim appears at the door. Nods his head at Jamal. JAMAL (CONT'D) It's my turn. LATIKA Good luck, Jamal. Latika's hand comes through the gap. Jamal takes it for a moment. Salim hisses at Jamal. He lets go of the hand and heads out. 63 EXT. PATH. NIGHT. 63 Salim and Jamal walk along the path, Jamal humming happily. Salim checks behind him, sees Punnoose following. JAMAL So, this is it, hey, bhai? The good life, here we come.... SALIM (conversationally) Athos. Jamal is suddenly alert. Slows (CONTINUED) 41. 63 CONTINUED: 63 JAMAL Porthos? Salim nods. Big smile. Puts a hand on Jamal's shoulder. SALIM When I say. 64 INT. SHACK. NIGHT. 64 Salim guides Jamal into the shack where Maman and the Villager are waiting. Maman smiles. Punnoose slips in behind Salim. MAMAN Jamal, hello. You have done well. It's time for you to- turn professional. JAMAL Really? MAMAN Sing me a song, yaar. How about Chalo Ri Murali, huh? My favourite. Jamal opens his mouth, then closes it again. Holds out his hand. JAMAL Fifty rupees. MAMAN What? JAMAL (shrugs) I've turned professional. What can I do? Maman laughs. MAMAN Sala...! He throws some notes at him. 65 EXT. SHACK. NIGHT. 65 Outside, a giggle. Latika is peering through a gap in the wall. 42. 66 INT. SHACK. NIGHT. 66 Jamal begins to sing. Maman waits a while, then nods to Punnoose. Behind Jamal, Punnoose hands Salim the bottle of chloroform and the rag. Salim approaches the back of Jamal. Salim waits until he has finished the song. Raises his hand with the rag in it. Maman smiles, nods. Salim flings the contents of the bottle in Punnoose's face. Punnoose screams and stumbles back clutching his eyes, knocking over the table. SALIM Go! Salim and Jamal scramble for the door. The knocked-over candle catches the spilled chloroform and a curtain which whooshes up in flame. LATIKA Jamal! JAMAL Run! 66A EXT. SHACK. NIGHT. 66A They charge past the prone Arvind- a flash of bloodied bandages covering his eyes. 67 EXT. HILLSIDE. NIGHT. 67 Heavy, desperate breathing. Feet stumble on roots. Fall into holes. The three children are running. Branches smack into their faces. But they are so scared, nothing will stop them. Behind them, torches scour the undergrowth. Men shouting. They break out of the woods and are confronted with a train goods yard. 68 EXT. GOODS YARD. NIGHT. 68 They run over the tracks, between the trains, but the shouts are getting louder, the torches closer. A diesel engine is moving out of the station. Jamal, Latika and Salim sprint for the Guard's Van at the very back of the moving train. Punnoose is closest to them. Salim is fastest and first to jump the train. He holds out his hand. Jamal grabs it and is hauled in. Jamal holds his hand out to Latika. JAMAL Come on! Faster! She reaches out to him. Their hands almost touch. (CONTINUED) 43. 68 CONTINUED: 68 JAMAL (CONT'D) Take it! Take it! I can't reach... Salim barges Jamal out of the way. Jamal stumbles back as Salim reaches his hand out to Latika, so he doesn't see Latika's hand grasp Salim's, nor see their eyes lock onto each other, nor see Salim very deliberately let go of her hand. Latika stumbles. LATIKA Jamal! Jamal scrambles to the rail. The train gains more speed. Jamal climbs on to the top rung, makes to jump, but Salim flings him backward. Jamal tries to scramble to his feet again, but Salim restrains him. JAMAL Got to go back. We've got to go back. SALIM He'll kill us if we go back. Jamal! He was going to take your eyes out- with a bloody spoon! The train is speeding along. Jamal breaks free and stares back at Latika. SALIM (CONT'D) She'll be alright. She always is. Latika stumbles again and stops running. They watch as Punnoose catches up with her and stops running. He smashes Latika to the ground. 69 INT. STUDIO. NIGHT. 69 PREM The question was, for two hundred and fifty thousand rupees: who wrote the famous song Chalo Ri Murali. I should warn you, Jamal: from this question on, if you get the answer wrong you lose everything. So. Are you sure? The life-lines are there.... JAMAL Surdas. PREM Surdas. Apka final jawab? (CONTINUED) 44. 69 CONTINUED: 69 JAMAL Yes. PREM Computer-ji, A lock kiya-jaye. The lights dim, the music swells. Prem presses a button on his computer: looks him straight in the eyes for an age. PREM (CONT'D) (simply) Guess what? You're right. Applause, music, lights. 70 INT. INSPECTOR'S OFFICE. DAY. 70 The Inspector is eying Jamal, weighing it all up. JAMAL (shrugging) Blind singers earn double. You know that. INSPECTOR And what happened to the girl? They blinded her too? JAMAL (shakes his head) They had other plans. Though it took me a long, long time to find out. 71 EXT. TRAIN. MORNING. 71 Salim and Jamal are sitting on top of the train. Jamal is staring blankly down the track. SALIM Ar , Jamal... Salim puts an arm around Jamal's shoulder. Jamal wipes the tears from his eyes, shakes his head furiously. Salim gets up. Holds out his hand. SALIM (CONT'D) Come. JAMAL Where you going? SALIM First class, bhai. Where else? 45.

or

How many times the word 'or' appears in the text?

to a colleague. Puts out his cigarette with purpose. JAMAL Let's go, bhai. Salim and Jamal run. The girl follows. 22. 33 EXT. MUMBAI. EVENING. 33 Salim and Jamal stand on a hill overlooking the city. Black smoke billows from a large area that is clearly the Juhu slum. Standing a little way off is the girl. JAMAL We should go back. Silence. JAMAL (CONT'D) See if Ama- Salim shakes his head fiercely, silencing Jamal for a moment. But only a moment. JAMAL (CONT'D) What about Jeevan Chacha? Salim shakes his head. JAMAL (CONT'D) Maybe he- Salim shakes his head again. SALIM - I saw him. He was with them. JAMAL But he wouldn't hurt- SALIM - he was with them! JAMAL But- SALIM - shut up, Jamal, can't you? Just shut up! Salim turns away and sees the girl. Picks up a rock and hurls it at her. She dodges, takes a couple of steps back but makes no real attempt to get away. He finds another rock and hurls this in her direction too. SALIM (CONT'D) Ja! Then a flash of lightning and thunder rumbles across the city. Rain begins to come down. JAMAL What shall we do? (CONTINUED) 23. 33 CONTINUED: 33 No answer. Jamal sits down. Salim sits down. At a distance, the girl sits down. Rain pours down their faces. 34 INT. BUILDER'S YARD. NIGHT. 34 Rain as you've never seen. A pile of huge water pipes in a sprawling builder's yard. Jamal is in one pipe, Salim above him in another. They are both soaked, shivering, but have found some plastic sheet to wrap themselves in. Outside, thirty feet away, stands the girl. Staring. Salim hisses angrily at the girl. SALIM Go away. Ja, ja! The girl might not even have heard. SALIM (CONT'D) She'll have the Security Guard onto us, standing there. JAMAL Not if we let her in. SALIM No. JAMAL She could be the third musketeer. SALIM I am the head of this family, now. And I say no. Piss off, you. Salim huddles down in the pipe. After a while, Jamal follows suit. SALIM (CONT'D) We don't even know what the third musketeer's called. 35 EXT. JUHU SLUM. DAY 35 A flash of Jamal's mother being clubbed to the ground. Her scream. 36 INT. BUILDER'S YARD. LATER. 36 Jamal wakes with a jolt and a scream half-swallowed in his mouth. He shuts his eyes tight, trying to force the image out. His breathing slows and he sees the girl staring at him. Salim, too, is staring into nothing. The rain is still falling. (CONTINUED) 24. 36 CONTINUED: 36 The girl goes back to drawing shapes in the mud with her finger. Jamal climbs out of the pipe. Looks at Salim for permission or refusal, but he just continues to stare. So, Jamal walks across to her. She looks up, wary. JAMAL Where's your Mother? Silence. JAMAL (CONT'D) Father? The girl shakes her head slightly. Jamal takes the plastic sheet from around his shoulders. Gives it to her. JAMAL (CONT'D) I'm Jamal. He's Salim. LATIKA Latika. Jamal goes back to his water pipe, climbs in. Watches her huddled under the sheet. Sighs, motions for her to join him. She darts across, jumps into the water pipe and huddles up next to Jamal. 37 INT. INSPECTOR'S OFFICE. DAY. 37 Jamal looks at the Inspector. JAMAL I wake up every morning wishing I didn't know the answer to that question? If it wasn't for Ram and Allah, I would still have a Mother. 38 INT. STUDIO. NIGHT 38 JAMAL D) A bow and arrow. PREM Final answer? JAMAL Final answer. Prem stares at him for dramatic effect. Presses his computer. PREM Computer-ji, D lock kiya-jaye. (CONTINUED) 25. 38 CONTINUED: 38 The lights dim, the music swells. PREM (CONT'D) Jamal Malik, you answered D? Ram is depicted with a bow and arrow in his hand. And guess what? You've just won sixteen thousand rupees! Well done, my friend. Time for a commercial break- don't go away, now. Music, applause. Prem switches off his professional smile. Gets up. PREM (CONT'D) Got lucky, huh? I'd take the money. You'll never get the next one. JAMAL You're from the Juhu slum, aren't you? PREM Hmm? Sure. Know where I live now, kid? Pali Hill. Twelve bedrooms, a/c in every room, two kitchens, a gym and a screening room. Steel balls is what it takes, my friend, steel balls. The Floor Manager comes over and gives his head-phones set to Prem. Prem listens. DIRECTOR V/O Prem? Tone it down, for goodness sake. You're making him a laughing stock. Prem glances up at the gallery with contempt. PREM We're having fun here. They love it...Where the hell do you get them from? He makes no attempt to hide the conversation from Jamal. DIRECTOR V/O It's supposed to be a quiz show, not a blood sport. FLOOR MANAGER Two minutes. (CONTINUED) 26. 38 CONTINUED: (2) 38 PREM Stop wetting your pants. I'll be a good little boy with the next one. Promise. He chucks the head-phones back at the Floor Manager. Glances in the wings. Sees Nita, the make-up woman. Gets up and goes over. 39 INT. STUDIO. BACKSTAGE. NIGHT. 39 In the half-light, backstage, Nita dabs his face with powder. PREM Meet me after the show. Please. NITA No. PREM Nita, I can explain. NITA No need. I read it in bloody Stardust. Didn't even have the balls to tell me. "Prem's happiness with another baby on the way". After everything you said... PREM Baby, it all happened before I met you. I swear to you. NITA She's got the gestation period of an elephant, then. Prem is about to object. But instead, he laughs. PREM You see? Amidst all this misery, only you can make me laugh. Scornful but hints of melting. NITA All this misery... PREM Her and I- nothing. You have to believe me, baby... Nita turns away. The Floor Manager comes over. FLOOR MANAGER One minute. (CONTINUED) 27. 39 CONTINUED: 39 Prem slings himself in a chair. PREM No. I'm not going on. NITA Prem... PREM I can't. Without you, it's all pointless. Clicks his fingers at the Floor Manager. PREM (CONT'D) You. Tell the Director. Nita shakes her head at the Floor Manager who by now is looking very worried. FLOOR MANAGER Thirty seconds. Prem shrugs and folds his arms. Sees her weaken. NITA Prem... PREM Calypso Bar, private room, just you and me? FLOOR MANAGER Fifteen. NITA (furious) Alright. He grins, jumps up, blows her a kiss, and stalks back on stage. 40 INT. STUDIO. NIGHT. 40 He sits back down, says almost to himself. PREM Steel balls. Turns to Jamal. PREM (CONT'D) Okay, Juhu boy, you've had a good run. Take your Mother to Khandala and eat some chiki. JAMAL My Mother's dead. (CONTINUED) 28. 40 CONTINUED: 40 PREM Well, your girlfriend then. Even better. JAMAL I don't have a girl-friend. PREM Live wire like you? You surprise me. FLOOR MANAGER Five, four... The warm-up man starts the applause. TALKBACK V/O ....three, two, one... Cheering and music. Prem switches on his charm. PREM Welcome back to Who Wants to be a Millionaire! Our contestant, Jamal Malik, Call Centre Assistant- from Mumbai, is on sixteen thousand rupees and has already used one lifeline: Ask the Audience. So, my friend: are you ready for the next question? JAMAL Yes. PREM Then, let's play. Portentous music. The lights dim. PREM (CONT'D) For sixty-four thousand rupees. The British architect Frederick Stevens designed which famous building in India? Is it: A) The Taj Mahal. B) Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus. C) India Gate. D) Howrah Bridge. What do you think, Jamal? Are you one of those tea-boys with a penchant for architecture? 41 INT. CHHATRAPATI SHIVAJI TERMINUS. DAY. 41 Known to everyone as VT station, this monument to Victorian railway architecture is a dangerous place to be at rush hour. (CONTINUED) 29. 41 CONTINUED: 41 Even before the train has stopped, men are jumping from the open doors, or vaulting out of the windows or from the roof of the train to join the tens of thousands of Mumbaites streaming to and from work. A seventeen-year old Jamal squeezes himself out of a train and shoves through the crowds. He checks the time. The digital numerals flick to five O'clock. Looks around the tide of humanity. 42 INT. STUDIO. NIGHT. 42 PREM So, what's it to be? Walk away and this cheque for sixteen thousand rupees is yours. Look, it's even got your name on it. He produces a cheque and waves it at Jamal. JAMAL I don't have a bank account. Laughter from the audience. Prem is momentarily wrong- footed. JAMAL (CONT'D) But I'll take cash. More laughter, this time with Jamal, rather than at him. Prem gets up and starts rummaging theatrically through his jacket pockets and trousers. PREM Nope. Looks like the Producer's stolen my wallet again- JAMAL - I'll play. Nobody was expecting this. Least of all Prem who has to rearrange his features into one of surprised delight. He sits down. PREM You'll play? JAMAL Why not? PREM Well, well, well. We've got a wild one, here. Prem tears up the cheque with theatrical slowness. (CONTINUED) 30. 42 CONTINUED: 42 PREM (CONT'D) For sixty-four thousand rupees, Ladies and Gentlemen, the question once again.... 43 INT. CHHATRAPATI SHIVAJI TERMINUS. DAY. 43 The digital clocks show five fifteen. Shoving the descending river of people out of his way, the eighteen year-old Jamal is forging a path up steps that cross the platforms. He pushes to the middle of the footbridge and leans out on the side railings. He scans the sea of people, desperately. Then he sees her: the eighteen year-old Latika, heart-stoppingly beautiful, over the other side of the station. A world away. She is scanning the crowd, as wired as he is. JAMAL Latika! Latika! But though he is screaming her name, his voice is swallowed by the noise around him. Then he sees two thuggish-looking men also fighting a way towards her. JAMAL (CONT'D) Latika! Frightened now, he fights his way down the steps, one figure against an army of white-robed people. JAMAL (CONT'D) Latika! JAMAL V/O Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus. PREM V/O Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus. Sure? JAMAL V/O I think so. PREM V/O You think so. A brave man, Ladies and Gentlemen, a brave man. 44 INT. CHHATRAPATI SHIVAJI TERMINUS. DAY. 44 The commuters have mostly gone. Jamal is pacing the platform desperately. He stops, stares blankly at the statue in front of him- a proud, rather pompous figure in a Victorian frock coat. The plaque reads: Frederick Stevens. 31. 45 INT. INSPECTOR'S OFFICE. NIGHT. 45 The Inspector, Srinivas and Jamal are staring at the video recorder. JAMAL Yes. Final answer. Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus. PREM Is the right answer! Sixty-four thousand rupees to you, Sir! Applause and music. The Inspector presses pause. Stares at Jamal. INSPECTOR And did she come back? Jamal smiles sadly. JAMAL I wouldn't be here if she had. INSPECTOR Pretty was she? Jamal stares down at his feet. INSPECTOR (CONT'D) Guess not. Right in the eyes. JAMAL The most beautiful woman in the world. Constable Srinivas snorts. Suddenly, Jamal is out of his chair and at Srinivas' throat. The combined force of the Inspector and Srinivas force him roughly back down. He is again handcuffed to the chair. INSPECTOR OF POLICE Well, well. The slum dog barks. Money or women. The reason for most mistakes in life. Looks like you got mixed up with both. Srinivas, you need the exercise: a trip to VT Station to check on the statue. And lock your bloody bike up. Constable Srinivas swears under his breath but bumbles out. (CONTINUED) 32. 45 CONTINUED: 45 INSPECTOR That's the chutiy out the way. Now, man to man. How did you know all the answers? JAMAL If I knew, I'd tell you. 46 OMITTED 46 47 OMITTED 47 48 INT. STUDIO. NIGHT. 48 PREM Now we're into the serious money. For two hundred and fifty thousand rupees, ladies and gentlemen, a quarter of a million rupees...the song Chalo Ri Murali was written by which famous Indian poet. Was it A) Surdas. B) Tulsidas. C) Mira Bai. D) Kabir. Remember you still have two lifelines- fifty- fifty and Phone A Friend. Tempted to use one? JAMAL No. PREM No? JAMAL I know this one. PREM Oh. I see. An expert on the poets, huh? The lights dim, the music swells and Prem presses his computer. 49 EXT. MUMBAI STREET. NIGHT. 49 Jamal is studying a piece of paper and reading out numbers from it. There is something not quite right about Jamal- perhaps the fact that there are two feet by his ears. Salim is standing on his shoulders and spraying the numbers on a wall with an aerosol and a certain lack of confidence. (CONTINUED) 33. 49 CONTINUED: 49 JAMAL Four, nine, zero, nine- the one with the stick going down, Salim- six- stick going up- Latika's head appears from around the corner. LATIKA (whispered) Oi! But they don't hear. Then she is running for her life past the pair of them. JAMAL Six, one, shit, let's go- Salim collapses off Jamal's shoulders and all three run off down an alley past a dozen of the gang's sprayed-on adverts all reading: "Beanbags- 989 4909661". A fat Security Guard with a long stick huffs round the corner. Chases them up an alley. Nowhere to go except through an imposing gate that clearly leads to a private house. SECURITY GUARD Got you now, little shits. 50 EXT. GARDEN. NIGHT. 50 They charge across the lawn, down one side of the house where all the washing is hanging. The Guard gets caught up in drying sheets, towels. He fights his way through to see Salim, Latika and Jamal leaping over the wall to safety. But Jamal turns, jumps back and grabs a girl's dress from the line. SECURITY GUARD Aha! Little thief! The Security Guard lands a couple of blows on Jamal's back as he dodges around him and back across the lawn, dress in hand. The Security Guard gives up. SECURITY GUARD (CONT'D) Pervert! 51 INT. ALLEY. NIGHT. 51 Jamal is examing the bruises on his legs. SALIM Useless bloody look-out. What good is she, huh? (CONTINUED) 34. 51 CONTINUED: 51 LATIKA (infuriated) I tried to warn you. JAMAL It's okay, Salim. Latika slips on the dress. Spins. Both of them look up. Stare. She pulls her hair back, smiles, is transformed into a beautiful girl. 52 EXT. GORAI BEACH DUMPING GROUND. DAY. 52 Blazing sun. Diggers and trucks are shifting mounds of rubble on a rubbish dump that seems to stretch for ever. Oblivious to the dust kicked up by the trucks, Latika is picking up old plastic bags, examining each one and putting the less worn in a big sack. The dress is recognisable but dusty and torn. She stoops to dig another bag out of the dirt, but stops and stares. Shimmering in the heat, a rickety pick-up truck comes through the rubbish dump gates. Toots at the Guard who waves, pulls up in the dump. "Hope Orphanage is written on the side of the van. A man gets out. Looks around. 53 INT. `TENT'. DAY. 53 Under sheets of plastic propped up on sticks, Jamal and Salim are sleeping out the hottest part of the day. Jamal wakes to see a figure standing over him- a silhouette with a halo of sun behind him. Out of his bag, the man produces a bottle of Thumbs Up. He uncaps it with an alluring hiss. It is almost an advert for thirst-quenching affluence. Almost instinctively, Salim and Jamal stir. MAN Hello. He hands the bottle to Salim, gets another from his bag and waves it questioningly at Jamal. MAN (CONT'D) Hot, huh? My name is Maman. 54 EXT. ORPHANAGE. EVENING. 54 The hills on the edge of Bombay. Greenery and space, for the first time in the film. The pick-up truck pulls up outside a building with Jamal, Salim and Latika sitting on a bench in the back. Maman gets out. Drops the gate on the back of the pick-up. MAMAN Anyone hungry? Come on in. 35. 55 INT. ORPHANAGE COURTYARD. EVENING. 55 Twenty children are eating at long benches in a ramshackle courtyard. Maman, ushers Jamal, Salim and Latika in and sits them down at one of the benches. He waves a hand and a giant man, Punnoose, comes over with a big bowl of food. The three tear into it. Cleaning every last morsel of rice from his plate, Jamal looks up and notices a table peopled entirely with blind or crippled children. Some of the legless are eating on the floor next to the table. Jamal leans over to Salim. JAMAL He must be a very good man to look after these people. SALIM (glancing at them) A saint. Arvind, a boy smaller than either Jamal or Salim overhears. ARVIND We're not allowed to talk to them. LATIKA Why not? Arvind shrugs. Latika licks her plate, glances at Maman who is looking right at them. LATIKA (CONT'D) Well, if there are seconds, Maman is definitely a Saint. As if telepathic, Maman signals to Punnoose and he brings a large bowl of rice and dhal over to them. Latika looks at Jamal and Salim. They burst out laughing. LATIKA (CONT'D) I tell you, Lord Siva is with us. 56 INT. ORPHANAGE. EVENING. 56 Salim, Latika, Jamal and a group of children are standing in a line singing a doha- ancient lyrics set to music. Maman is leading the singing, walking up and down the line listening to each one individually. He stops at one small boy, Arvind, and listens. Nods his head, pleased, and continues down the line until he stops in front of Jamal. Holds up his hand. MAMAN Stop! You. Again. (CONTINUED) 36. 56 CONTINUED: 56 Jamal starts singing again. He has the sweetest of voices. Untrained but pure. Maman smiles, ruffles Jamal's hair, impressed. MAMAN (CONT'D) Everyone. They all join in. Maman continues down the line. He stops at Salim whose octave-slipping singing is lusty and appallingly out of tune. Maman winces and moves on. Standing next to Salim, Latika giggles. Immediately, Salim is on her. Before a fight breaks out, Punnoose pulls Salim off Latika and hurls him across the room. Salim gets up and charges at Punnoose. For a second, Punnoose is back-footed, but then pins Salim's arms to his side. Maman laughs. Approaches Salim. MAMAN (CONT'D) You sing like one, and you fight like one. I think you've found your dog, Punnoose. 57 EXT. CENTRAL MUMBAI TRAFFIC. DAY. 57 A group of children are sitting in the jumble of concrete under a motorway flyover. Cars surround them, bumper to bumper. Latika and Jamal are playing an improvised hopscotch on concrete slabs. They are giggling, bumping into each other, tickling, laughing. Salim and Punnoose are sitting together, smoking. Salim is staring hard at Jamal and Latika until Punnoose grunts, a sign for Salim to clap his hands. SALIM Okay, let's go, let's go! It's not a bloody holiday! The children get to their feet. Latika sighs, puts a patch over her eye and grabs a pair of crutches. Suddenly, the lame beggar. Salim goes over to one of the girls, who is carrying a sleeping baby. Puts out his hand. SALIM (CONT'D) Give me that. The girl shakes her head. Salim grabs her by the hair in one hand and takes the baby with the other. He shoves her to the ground. The other children stare. JAMAL Hey, Salim! He challenges Jamal. SALIM What, chot bhai? You got a problem? (CONTINUED) 37. 57 CONTINUED: 57 He laughs and walks over to Latika. SALIM (CONT'D) Here. For you. LATIKA I don't want it. SALIM You'll earn double. I'm doing you a favour, Latika. JAMAL She doesn't want it. SALIM Chup, Jamal. Latika turns away and begins to walk towards the cars. SALIM (CONT'D) I'll drop it. He holds the baby up. Latika grabs the baby with a cry just as Salim releases it from his hands. Salim pinches the baby. SALIM (CONT'D) Triple if it's crying. Latika snatches it away. Salim laughs, goes back to sitting with Punnoose. The children scatter to the cars trapped at the lights, tapping plaintively on the windows and making the universal begging gesture. 58 INT. ORPHANAGE. KITCHEN. NIGHT. 58 Surrounded by beer bottles, Punnoose is slumped asleep by the kitchen door. Latika edges past, avoids the cook sleeping under the table and goes to a shelf laden with vegetables. She pulls down a bunch of chillies still on the vine, strips a few off and tip-toes out with them. 59 INT. ORPHANAGE. DORMITORY. NIGHT. 59 Sleeping children, three or four to a mattress on the floor. Latika tip-toes around the mattresses. She pauses over one in particular where we see Salim, asleep. She carefully pulls up the sheet, delves underneath. Pleasant dreams cross Salim's sleeping face for a second. Then suddenly, he is bolt upright and screaming. He charges around the room clutching his genitals in agony. SALIM Madher chod...! (CONTINUED) 38. 59 CONTINUED: 59 He sprints out of the room, wailing. 60 INT. ORPHANAGE. SHOWERS. NIGHT. 60 The lights are on and two dozen children are screaming with laughter as Salim stands under the make-shift shower directing the water down his pants to his burning genitals, his face a picture of agony. Latika wipes crushed chillies from her hands. SALIM You're dead, sala. She smiles and walks past Jamal with a shrug. Then Punnoose comes stalking in and the children scatter away. PUNNOOSE Get back to bed, dogs! What the hell... JAMAL V/O They taught me every song in the history of Indian music. INSPECTOR V/O And why would they do that, I wonder? 61 INT. SHACK. NIGHT. 61 In a shack, Arvind is singing one of Surdas' bhajans in front of Maman and an old man who by his ragged appearance must be a villager. Punnoose and Salim sit behind Arvind. MAMAN Very good, very good. I am pleased, Arvind. He is ready. ARVIND Ready? Maman nods to Punnoose. Before Arvind can turn round, Punnoose has covered his mouth with a cloth and after the briefest of struggles, Arvind's body goes limp. The villager puts an old tin box on the table. Taking the lid from the tin, he brings out a cloth and unwraps it. Inside is a spoon. He checks the edge with his thumb. Sharp. Douses it with a clear liquid from a bottle and passes it over a candle flame. The spoon whooshes with a high flame for a moment. The villager wipes it with the cloth nods to Punnoose. PUNNOOSE Salim! (CONTINUED) 39. 61 CONTINUED: 61 Utterly bemused, Salim nevertheless helps Punnoose lay Arvind on the table. The villager takes hold of Arvind's eyelid and pulls it open. He brings the spoon close. Suddenly, Salim is being sick in the corner of the shack. By the time he has turned back, the villager is wiping the spoon on a blood-soaked rag. MAMAN Okay. Take him out the back. Punnoose picks up Arvind and carries him out. MAMAN (CONT'D) Now the other one. Salim, go get Jamal. A frozen moment. SALIM What? MAMAN Gunfighter Number One, isn't that right, Salim? The money, the women, the cars...you want them bad, huh? And why not? Maman gets out of his chair. Approaches Salim. MAMAN (CONT'D) The time has come to choose, yaar. The life of a slum dog or the life of a man. A real man. A gunfighter, Salim. Maman holds Salim's head in his hands. MAMAN (CONT'D) Your destiny is in your hands, bhai. You can be me. Or nobody. Understand? SALIM Yes, Maman. Maman nods. MAMAN So, brother, go get Jamal. Salim is frozen for another few seconds, then turns and walks out of the door. Punnoose appears at the door. Maman nods to him and he slips off after Salim. 62 INT. DORMITORY, ORPHANAGE. NIGHT. 62 All the children are asleep apart from Jamal who is crouched underneath a couple of wash-basins. (CONTINUED) 40. 62 CONTINUED: 62 He is talking through a plate-sized hole in the crumbling masonry. Latika's eyes can be seen. JAMAL ...weddings, government things, big parties. If Maman says my voice is ready. Big money. LATIKA Enough for a room? JAMAL Easily. Maybe an apartment. LATIKA Really? JAMAL That's what Arvind said. On Harbour Road. You, me and Salim. The three musketeers. LATIKA Harbour Road! We can have ice cream from Babanji's. JAMAL Every day if we want. Salim appears at the door. Nods his head at Jamal. JAMAL (CONT'D) It's my turn. LATIKA Good luck, Jamal. Latika's hand comes through the gap. Jamal takes it for a moment. Salim hisses at Jamal. He lets go of the hand and heads out. 63 EXT. PATH. NIGHT. 63 Salim and Jamal walk along the path, Jamal humming happily. Salim checks behind him, sees Punnoose following. JAMAL So, this is it, hey, bhai? The good life, here we come.... SALIM (conversationally) Athos. Jamal is suddenly alert. Slows (CONTINUED) 41. 63 CONTINUED: 63 JAMAL Porthos? Salim nods. Big smile. Puts a hand on Jamal's shoulder. SALIM When I say. 64 INT. SHACK. NIGHT. 64 Salim guides Jamal into the shack where Maman and the Villager are waiting. Maman smiles. Punnoose slips in behind Salim. MAMAN Jamal, hello. You have done well. It's time for you to- turn professional. JAMAL Really? MAMAN Sing me a song, yaar. How about Chalo Ri Murali, huh? My favourite. Jamal opens his mouth, then closes it again. Holds out his hand. JAMAL Fifty rupees. MAMAN What? JAMAL (shrugs) I've turned professional. What can I do? Maman laughs. MAMAN Sala...! He throws some notes at him. 65 EXT. SHACK. NIGHT. 65 Outside, a giggle. Latika is peering through a gap in the wall. 42. 66 INT. SHACK. NIGHT. 66 Jamal begins to sing. Maman waits a while, then nods to Punnoose. Behind Jamal, Punnoose hands Salim the bottle of chloroform and the rag. Salim approaches the back of Jamal. Salim waits until he has finished the song. Raises his hand with the rag in it. Maman smiles, nods. Salim flings the contents of the bottle in Punnoose's face. Punnoose screams and stumbles back clutching his eyes, knocking over the table. SALIM Go! Salim and Jamal scramble for the door. The knocked-over candle catches the spilled chloroform and a curtain which whooshes up in flame. LATIKA Jamal! JAMAL Run! 66A EXT. SHACK. NIGHT. 66A They charge past the prone Arvind- a flash of bloodied bandages covering his eyes. 67 EXT. HILLSIDE. NIGHT. 67 Heavy, desperate breathing. Feet stumble on roots. Fall into holes. The three children are running. Branches smack into their faces. But they are so scared, nothing will stop them. Behind them, torches scour the undergrowth. Men shouting. They break out of the woods and are confronted with a train goods yard. 68 EXT. GOODS YARD. NIGHT. 68 They run over the tracks, between the trains, but the shouts are getting louder, the torches closer. A diesel engine is moving out of the station. Jamal, Latika and Salim sprint for the Guard's Van at the very back of the moving train. Punnoose is closest to them. Salim is fastest and first to jump the train. He holds out his hand. Jamal grabs it and is hauled in. Jamal holds his hand out to Latika. JAMAL Come on! Faster! She reaches out to him. Their hands almost touch. (CONTINUED) 43. 68 CONTINUED: 68 JAMAL (CONT'D) Take it! Take it! I can't reach... Salim barges Jamal out of the way. Jamal stumbles back as Salim reaches his hand out to Latika, so he doesn't see Latika's hand grasp Salim's, nor see their eyes lock onto each other, nor see Salim very deliberately let go of her hand. Latika stumbles. LATIKA Jamal! Jamal scrambles to the rail. The train gains more speed. Jamal climbs on to the top rung, makes to jump, but Salim flings him backward. Jamal tries to scramble to his feet again, but Salim restrains him. JAMAL Got to go back. We've got to go back. SALIM He'll kill us if we go back. Jamal! He was going to take your eyes out- with a bloody spoon! The train is speeding along. Jamal breaks free and stares back at Latika. SALIM (CONT'D) She'll be alright. She always is. Latika stumbles again and stops running. They watch as Punnoose catches up with her and stops running. He smashes Latika to the ground. 69 INT. STUDIO. NIGHT. 69 PREM The question was, for two hundred and fifty thousand rupees: who wrote the famous song Chalo Ri Murali. I should warn you, Jamal: from this question on, if you get the answer wrong you lose everything. So. Are you sure? The life-lines are there.... JAMAL Surdas. PREM Surdas. Apka final jawab? (CONTINUED) 44. 69 CONTINUED: 69 JAMAL Yes. PREM Computer-ji, A lock kiya-jaye. The lights dim, the music swells. Prem presses a button on his computer: looks him straight in the eyes for an age. PREM (CONT'D) (simply) Guess what? You're right. Applause, music, lights. 70 INT. INSPECTOR'S OFFICE. DAY. 70 The Inspector is eying Jamal, weighing it all up. JAMAL (shrugging) Blind singers earn double. You know that. INSPECTOR And what happened to the girl? They blinded her too? JAMAL (shakes his head) They had other plans. Though it took me a long, long time to find out. 71 EXT. TRAIN. MORNING. 71 Salim and Jamal are sitting on top of the train. Jamal is staring blankly down the track. SALIM Ar , Jamal... Salim puts an arm around Jamal's shoulder. Jamal wipes the tears from his eyes, shakes his head furiously. Salim gets up. Holds out his hand. SALIM (CONT'D) Come. JAMAL Where you going? SALIM First class, bhai. Where else? 45.

tulsidas

How many times the word 'tulsidas' appears in the text?

to a colleague. Puts out his cigarette with purpose. JAMAL Let's go, bhai. Salim and Jamal run. The girl follows. 22. 33 EXT. MUMBAI. EVENING. 33 Salim and Jamal stand on a hill overlooking the city. Black smoke billows from a large area that is clearly the Juhu slum. Standing a little way off is the girl. JAMAL We should go back. Silence. JAMAL (CONT'D) See if Ama- Salim shakes his head fiercely, silencing Jamal for a moment. But only a moment. JAMAL (CONT'D) What about Jeevan Chacha? Salim shakes his head. JAMAL (CONT'D) Maybe he- Salim shakes his head again. SALIM - I saw him. He was with them. JAMAL But he wouldn't hurt- SALIM - he was with them! JAMAL But- SALIM - shut up, Jamal, can't you? Just shut up! Salim turns away and sees the girl. Picks up a rock and hurls it at her. She dodges, takes a couple of steps back but makes no real attempt to get away. He finds another rock and hurls this in her direction too. SALIM (CONT'D) Ja! Then a flash of lightning and thunder rumbles across the city. Rain begins to come down. JAMAL What shall we do? (CONTINUED) 23. 33 CONTINUED: 33 No answer. Jamal sits down. Salim sits down. At a distance, the girl sits down. Rain pours down their faces. 34 INT. BUILDER'S YARD. NIGHT. 34 Rain as you've never seen. A pile of huge water pipes in a sprawling builder's yard. Jamal is in one pipe, Salim above him in another. They are both soaked, shivering, but have found some plastic sheet to wrap themselves in. Outside, thirty feet away, stands the girl. Staring. Salim hisses angrily at the girl. SALIM Go away. Ja, ja! The girl might not even have heard. SALIM (CONT'D) She'll have the Security Guard onto us, standing there. JAMAL Not if we let her in. SALIM No. JAMAL She could be the third musketeer. SALIM I am the head of this family, now. And I say no. Piss off, you. Salim huddles down in the pipe. After a while, Jamal follows suit. SALIM (CONT'D) We don't even know what the third musketeer's called. 35 EXT. JUHU SLUM. DAY 35 A flash of Jamal's mother being clubbed to the ground. Her scream. 36 INT. BUILDER'S YARD. LATER. 36 Jamal wakes with a jolt and a scream half-swallowed in his mouth. He shuts his eyes tight, trying to force the image out. His breathing slows and he sees the girl staring at him. Salim, too, is staring into nothing. The rain is still falling. (CONTINUED) 24. 36 CONTINUED: 36 The girl goes back to drawing shapes in the mud with her finger. Jamal climbs out of the pipe. Looks at Salim for permission or refusal, but he just continues to stare. So, Jamal walks across to her. She looks up, wary. JAMAL Where's your Mother? Silence. JAMAL (CONT'D) Father? The girl shakes her head slightly. Jamal takes the plastic sheet from around his shoulders. Gives it to her. JAMAL (CONT'D) I'm Jamal. He's Salim. LATIKA Latika. Jamal goes back to his water pipe, climbs in. Watches her huddled under the sheet. Sighs, motions for her to join him. She darts across, jumps into the water pipe and huddles up next to Jamal. 37 INT. INSPECTOR'S OFFICE. DAY. 37 Jamal looks at the Inspector. JAMAL I wake up every morning wishing I didn't know the answer to that question? If it wasn't for Ram and Allah, I would still have a Mother. 38 INT. STUDIO. NIGHT 38 JAMAL D) A bow and arrow. PREM Final answer? JAMAL Final answer. Prem stares at him for dramatic effect. Presses his computer. PREM Computer-ji, D lock kiya-jaye. (CONTINUED) 25. 38 CONTINUED: 38 The lights dim, the music swells. PREM (CONT'D) Jamal Malik, you answered D? Ram is depicted with a bow and arrow in his hand. And guess what? You've just won sixteen thousand rupees! Well done, my friend. Time for a commercial break- don't go away, now. Music, applause. Prem switches off his professional smile. Gets up. PREM (CONT'D) Got lucky, huh? I'd take the money. You'll never get the next one. JAMAL You're from the Juhu slum, aren't you? PREM Hmm? Sure. Know where I live now, kid? Pali Hill. Twelve bedrooms, a/c in every room, two kitchens, a gym and a screening room. Steel balls is what it takes, my friend, steel balls. The Floor Manager comes over and gives his head-phones set to Prem. Prem listens. DIRECTOR V/O Prem? Tone it down, for goodness sake. You're making him a laughing stock. Prem glances up at the gallery with contempt. PREM We're having fun here. They love it...Where the hell do you get them from? He makes no attempt to hide the conversation from Jamal. DIRECTOR V/O It's supposed to be a quiz show, not a blood sport. FLOOR MANAGER Two minutes. (CONTINUED) 26. 38 CONTINUED: (2) 38 PREM Stop wetting your pants. I'll be a good little boy with the next one. Promise. He chucks the head-phones back at the Floor Manager. Glances in the wings. Sees Nita, the make-up woman. Gets up and goes over. 39 INT. STUDIO. BACKSTAGE. NIGHT. 39 In the half-light, backstage, Nita dabs his face with powder. PREM Meet me after the show. Please. NITA No. PREM Nita, I can explain. NITA No need. I read it in bloody Stardust. Didn't even have the balls to tell me. "Prem's happiness with another baby on the way". After everything you said... PREM Baby, it all happened before I met you. I swear to you. NITA She's got the gestation period of an elephant, then. Prem is about to object. But instead, he laughs. PREM You see? Amidst all this misery, only you can make me laugh. Scornful but hints of melting. NITA All this misery... PREM Her and I- nothing. You have to believe me, baby... Nita turns away. The Floor Manager comes over. FLOOR MANAGER One minute. (CONTINUED) 27. 39 CONTINUED: 39 Prem slings himself in a chair. PREM No. I'm not going on. NITA Prem... PREM I can't. Without you, it's all pointless. Clicks his fingers at the Floor Manager. PREM (CONT'D) You. Tell the Director. Nita shakes her head at the Floor Manager who by now is looking very worried. FLOOR MANAGER Thirty seconds. Prem shrugs and folds his arms. Sees her weaken. NITA Prem... PREM Calypso Bar, private room, just you and me? FLOOR MANAGER Fifteen. NITA (furious) Alright. He grins, jumps up, blows her a kiss, and stalks back on stage. 40 INT. STUDIO. NIGHT. 40 He sits back down, says almost to himself. PREM Steel balls. Turns to Jamal. PREM (CONT'D) Okay, Juhu boy, you've had a good run. Take your Mother to Khandala and eat some chiki. JAMAL My Mother's dead. (CONTINUED) 28. 40 CONTINUED: 40 PREM Well, your girlfriend then. Even better. JAMAL I don't have a girl-friend. PREM Live wire like you? You surprise me. FLOOR MANAGER Five, four... The warm-up man starts the applause. TALKBACK V/O ....three, two, one... Cheering and music. Prem switches on his charm. PREM Welcome back to Who Wants to be a Millionaire! Our contestant, Jamal Malik, Call Centre Assistant- from Mumbai, is on sixteen thousand rupees and has already used one lifeline: Ask the Audience. So, my friend: are you ready for the next question? JAMAL Yes. PREM Then, let's play. Portentous music. The lights dim. PREM (CONT'D) For sixty-four thousand rupees. The British architect Frederick Stevens designed which famous building in India? Is it: A) The Taj Mahal. B) Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus. C) India Gate. D) Howrah Bridge. What do you think, Jamal? Are you one of those tea-boys with a penchant for architecture? 41 INT. CHHATRAPATI SHIVAJI TERMINUS. DAY. 41 Known to everyone as VT station, this monument to Victorian railway architecture is a dangerous place to be at rush hour. (CONTINUED) 29. 41 CONTINUED: 41 Even before the train has stopped, men are jumping from the open doors, or vaulting out of the windows or from the roof of the train to join the tens of thousands of Mumbaites streaming to and from work. A seventeen-year old Jamal squeezes himself out of a train and shoves through the crowds. He checks the time. The digital numerals flick to five O'clock. Looks around the tide of humanity. 42 INT. STUDIO. NIGHT. 42 PREM So, what's it to be? Walk away and this cheque for sixteen thousand rupees is yours. Look, it's even got your name on it. He produces a cheque and waves it at Jamal. JAMAL I don't have a bank account. Laughter from the audience. Prem is momentarily wrong- footed. JAMAL (CONT'D) But I'll take cash. More laughter, this time with Jamal, rather than at him. Prem gets up and starts rummaging theatrically through his jacket pockets and trousers. PREM Nope. Looks like the Producer's stolen my wallet again- JAMAL - I'll play. Nobody was expecting this. Least of all Prem who has to rearrange his features into one of surprised delight. He sits down. PREM You'll play? JAMAL Why not? PREM Well, well, well. We've got a wild one, here. Prem tears up the cheque with theatrical slowness. (CONTINUED) 30. 42 CONTINUED: 42 PREM (CONT'D) For sixty-four thousand rupees, Ladies and Gentlemen, the question once again.... 43 INT. CHHATRAPATI SHIVAJI TERMINUS. DAY. 43 The digital clocks show five fifteen. Shoving the descending river of people out of his way, the eighteen year-old Jamal is forging a path up steps that cross the platforms. He pushes to the middle of the footbridge and leans out on the side railings. He scans the sea of people, desperately. Then he sees her: the eighteen year-old Latika, heart-stoppingly beautiful, over the other side of the station. A world away. She is scanning the crowd, as wired as he is. JAMAL Latika! Latika! But though he is screaming her name, his voice is swallowed by the noise around him. Then he sees two thuggish-looking men also fighting a way towards her. JAMAL (CONT'D) Latika! Frightened now, he fights his way down the steps, one figure against an army of white-robed people. JAMAL (CONT'D) Latika! JAMAL V/O Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus. PREM V/O Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus. Sure? JAMAL V/O I think so. PREM V/O You think so. A brave man, Ladies and Gentlemen, a brave man. 44 INT. CHHATRAPATI SHIVAJI TERMINUS. DAY. 44 The commuters have mostly gone. Jamal is pacing the platform desperately. He stops, stares blankly at the statue in front of him- a proud, rather pompous figure in a Victorian frock coat. The plaque reads: Frederick Stevens. 31. 45 INT. INSPECTOR'S OFFICE. NIGHT. 45 The Inspector, Srinivas and Jamal are staring at the video recorder. JAMAL Yes. Final answer. Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus. PREM Is the right answer! Sixty-four thousand rupees to you, Sir! Applause and music. The Inspector presses pause. Stares at Jamal. INSPECTOR And did she come back? Jamal smiles sadly. JAMAL I wouldn't be here if she had. INSPECTOR Pretty was she? Jamal stares down at his feet. INSPECTOR (CONT'D) Guess not. Right in the eyes. JAMAL The most beautiful woman in the world. Constable Srinivas snorts. Suddenly, Jamal is out of his chair and at Srinivas' throat. The combined force of the Inspector and Srinivas force him roughly back down. He is again handcuffed to the chair. INSPECTOR OF POLICE Well, well. The slum dog barks. Money or women. The reason for most mistakes in life. Looks like you got mixed up with both. Srinivas, you need the exercise: a trip to VT Station to check on the statue. And lock your bloody bike up. Constable Srinivas swears under his breath but bumbles out. (CONTINUED) 32. 45 CONTINUED: 45 INSPECTOR That's the chutiy out the way. Now, man to man. How did you know all the answers? JAMAL If I knew, I'd tell you. 46 OMITTED 46 47 OMITTED 47 48 INT. STUDIO. NIGHT. 48 PREM Now we're into the serious money. For two hundred and fifty thousand rupees, ladies and gentlemen, a quarter of a million rupees...the song Chalo Ri Murali was written by which famous Indian poet. Was it A) Surdas. B) Tulsidas. C) Mira Bai. D) Kabir. Remember you still have two lifelines- fifty- fifty and Phone A Friend. Tempted to use one? JAMAL No. PREM No? JAMAL I know this one. PREM Oh. I see. An expert on the poets, huh? The lights dim, the music swells and Prem presses his computer. 49 EXT. MUMBAI STREET. NIGHT. 49 Jamal is studying a piece of paper and reading out numbers from it. There is something not quite right about Jamal- perhaps the fact that there are two feet by his ears. Salim is standing on his shoulders and spraying the numbers on a wall with an aerosol and a certain lack of confidence. (CONTINUED) 33. 49 CONTINUED: 49 JAMAL Four, nine, zero, nine- the one with the stick going down, Salim- six- stick going up- Latika's head appears from around the corner. LATIKA (whispered) Oi! But they don't hear. Then she is running for her life past the pair of them. JAMAL Six, one, shit, let's go- Salim collapses off Jamal's shoulders and all three run off down an alley past a dozen of the gang's sprayed-on adverts all reading: "Beanbags- 989 4909661". A fat Security Guard with a long stick huffs round the corner. Chases them up an alley. Nowhere to go except through an imposing gate that clearly leads to a private house. SECURITY GUARD Got you now, little shits. 50 EXT. GARDEN. NIGHT. 50 They charge across the lawn, down one side of the house where all the washing is hanging. The Guard gets caught up in drying sheets, towels. He fights his way through to see Salim, Latika and Jamal leaping over the wall to safety. But Jamal turns, jumps back and grabs a girl's dress from the line. SECURITY GUARD Aha! Little thief! The Security Guard lands a couple of blows on Jamal's back as he dodges around him and back across the lawn, dress in hand. The Security Guard gives up. SECURITY GUARD (CONT'D) Pervert! 51 INT. ALLEY. NIGHT. 51 Jamal is examing the bruises on his legs. SALIM Useless bloody look-out. What good is she, huh? (CONTINUED) 34. 51 CONTINUED: 51 LATIKA (infuriated) I tried to warn you. JAMAL It's okay, Salim. Latika slips on the dress. Spins. Both of them look up. Stare. She pulls her hair back, smiles, is transformed into a beautiful girl. 52 EXT. GORAI BEACH DUMPING GROUND. DAY. 52 Blazing sun. Diggers and trucks are shifting mounds of rubble on a rubbish dump that seems to stretch for ever. Oblivious to the dust kicked up by the trucks, Latika is picking up old plastic bags, examining each one and putting the less worn in a big sack. The dress is recognisable but dusty and torn. She stoops to dig another bag out of the dirt, but stops and stares. Shimmering in the heat, a rickety pick-up truck comes through the rubbish dump gates. Toots at the Guard who waves, pulls up in the dump. "Hope Orphanage is written on the side of the van. A man gets out. Looks around. 53 INT. `TENT'. DAY. 53 Under sheets of plastic propped up on sticks, Jamal and Salim are sleeping out the hottest part of the day. Jamal wakes to see a figure standing over him- a silhouette with a halo of sun behind him. Out of his bag, the man produces a bottle of Thumbs Up. He uncaps it with an alluring hiss. It is almost an advert for thirst-quenching affluence. Almost instinctively, Salim and Jamal stir. MAN Hello. He hands the bottle to Salim, gets another from his bag and waves it questioningly at Jamal. MAN (CONT'D) Hot, huh? My name is Maman. 54 EXT. ORPHANAGE. EVENING. 54 The hills on the edge of Bombay. Greenery and space, for the first time in the film. The pick-up truck pulls up outside a building with Jamal, Salim and Latika sitting on a bench in the back. Maman gets out. Drops the gate on the back of the pick-up. MAMAN Anyone hungry? Come on in. 35. 55 INT. ORPHANAGE COURTYARD. EVENING. 55 Twenty children are eating at long benches in a ramshackle courtyard. Maman, ushers Jamal, Salim and Latika in and sits them down at one of the benches. He waves a hand and a giant man, Punnoose, comes over with a big bowl of food. The three tear into it. Cleaning every last morsel of rice from his plate, Jamal looks up and notices a table peopled entirely with blind or crippled children. Some of the legless are eating on the floor next to the table. Jamal leans over to Salim. JAMAL He must be a very good man to look after these people. SALIM (glancing at them) A saint. Arvind, a boy smaller than either Jamal or Salim overhears. ARVIND We're not allowed to talk to them. LATIKA Why not? Arvind shrugs. Latika licks her plate, glances at Maman who is looking right at them. LATIKA (CONT'D) Well, if there are seconds, Maman is definitely a Saint. As if telepathic, Maman signals to Punnoose and he brings a large bowl of rice and dhal over to them. Latika looks at Jamal and Salim. They burst out laughing. LATIKA (CONT'D) I tell you, Lord Siva is with us. 56 INT. ORPHANAGE. EVENING. 56 Salim, Latika, Jamal and a group of children are standing in a line singing a doha- ancient lyrics set to music. Maman is leading the singing, walking up and down the line listening to each one individually. He stops at one small boy, Arvind, and listens. Nods his head, pleased, and continues down the line until he stops in front of Jamal. Holds up his hand. MAMAN Stop! You. Again. (CONTINUED) 36. 56 CONTINUED: 56 Jamal starts singing again. He has the sweetest of voices. Untrained but pure. Maman smiles, ruffles Jamal's hair, impressed. MAMAN (CONT'D) Everyone. They all join in. Maman continues down the line. He stops at Salim whose octave-slipping singing is lusty and appallingly out of tune. Maman winces and moves on. Standing next to Salim, Latika giggles. Immediately, Salim is on her. Before a fight breaks out, Punnoose pulls Salim off Latika and hurls him across the room. Salim gets up and charges at Punnoose. For a second, Punnoose is back-footed, but then pins Salim's arms to his side. Maman laughs. Approaches Salim. MAMAN (CONT'D) You sing like one, and you fight like one. I think you've found your dog, Punnoose. 57 EXT. CENTRAL MUMBAI TRAFFIC. DAY. 57 A group of children are sitting in the jumble of concrete under a motorway flyover. Cars surround them, bumper to bumper. Latika and Jamal are playing an improvised hopscotch on concrete slabs. They are giggling, bumping into each other, tickling, laughing. Salim and Punnoose are sitting together, smoking. Salim is staring hard at Jamal and Latika until Punnoose grunts, a sign for Salim to clap his hands. SALIM Okay, let's go, let's go! It's not a bloody holiday! The children get to their feet. Latika sighs, puts a patch over her eye and grabs a pair of crutches. Suddenly, the lame beggar. Salim goes over to one of the girls, who is carrying a sleeping baby. Puts out his hand. SALIM (CONT'D) Give me that. The girl shakes her head. Salim grabs her by the hair in one hand and takes the baby with the other. He shoves her to the ground. The other children stare. JAMAL Hey, Salim! He challenges Jamal. SALIM What, chot bhai? You got a problem? (CONTINUED) 37. 57 CONTINUED: 57 He laughs and walks over to Latika. SALIM (CONT'D) Here. For you. LATIKA I don't want it. SALIM You'll earn double. I'm doing you a favour, Latika. JAMAL She doesn't want it. SALIM Chup, Jamal. Latika turns away and begins to walk towards the cars. SALIM (CONT'D) I'll drop it. He holds the baby up. Latika grabs the baby with a cry just as Salim releases it from his hands. Salim pinches the baby. SALIM (CONT'D) Triple if it's crying. Latika snatches it away. Salim laughs, goes back to sitting with Punnoose. The children scatter to the cars trapped at the lights, tapping plaintively on the windows and making the universal begging gesture. 58 INT. ORPHANAGE. KITCHEN. NIGHT. 58 Surrounded by beer bottles, Punnoose is slumped asleep by the kitchen door. Latika edges past, avoids the cook sleeping under the table and goes to a shelf laden with vegetables. She pulls down a bunch of chillies still on the vine, strips a few off and tip-toes out with them. 59 INT. ORPHANAGE. DORMITORY. NIGHT. 59 Sleeping children, three or four to a mattress on the floor. Latika tip-toes around the mattresses. She pauses over one in particular where we see Salim, asleep. She carefully pulls up the sheet, delves underneath. Pleasant dreams cross Salim's sleeping face for a second. Then suddenly, he is bolt upright and screaming. He charges around the room clutching his genitals in agony. SALIM Madher chod...! (CONTINUED) 38. 59 CONTINUED: 59 He sprints out of the room, wailing. 60 INT. ORPHANAGE. SHOWERS. NIGHT. 60 The lights are on and two dozen children are screaming with laughter as Salim stands under the make-shift shower directing the water down his pants to his burning genitals, his face a picture of agony. Latika wipes crushed chillies from her hands. SALIM You're dead, sala. She smiles and walks past Jamal with a shrug. Then Punnoose comes stalking in and the children scatter away. PUNNOOSE Get back to bed, dogs! What the hell... JAMAL V/O They taught me every song in the history of Indian music. INSPECTOR V/O And why would they do that, I wonder? 61 INT. SHACK. NIGHT. 61 In a shack, Arvind is singing one of Surdas' bhajans in front of Maman and an old man who by his ragged appearance must be a villager. Punnoose and Salim sit behind Arvind. MAMAN Very good, very good. I am pleased, Arvind. He is ready. ARVIND Ready? Maman nods to Punnoose. Before Arvind can turn round, Punnoose has covered his mouth with a cloth and after the briefest of struggles, Arvind's body goes limp. The villager puts an old tin box on the table. Taking the lid from the tin, he brings out a cloth and unwraps it. Inside is a spoon. He checks the edge with his thumb. Sharp. Douses it with a clear liquid from a bottle and passes it over a candle flame. The spoon whooshes with a high flame for a moment. The villager wipes it with the cloth nods to Punnoose. PUNNOOSE Salim! (CONTINUED) 39. 61 CONTINUED: 61 Utterly bemused, Salim nevertheless helps Punnoose lay Arvind on the table. The villager takes hold of Arvind's eyelid and pulls it open. He brings the spoon close. Suddenly, Salim is being sick in the corner of the shack. By the time he has turned back, the villager is wiping the spoon on a blood-soaked rag. MAMAN Okay. Take him out the back. Punnoose picks up Arvind and carries him out. MAMAN (CONT'D) Now the other one. Salim, go get Jamal. A frozen moment. SALIM What? MAMAN Gunfighter Number One, isn't that right, Salim? The money, the women, the cars...you want them bad, huh? And why not? Maman gets out of his chair. Approaches Salim. MAMAN (CONT'D) The time has come to choose, yaar. The life of a slum dog or the life of a man. A real man. A gunfighter, Salim. Maman holds Salim's head in his hands. MAMAN (CONT'D) Your destiny is in your hands, bhai. You can be me. Or nobody. Understand? SALIM Yes, Maman. Maman nods. MAMAN So, brother, go get Jamal. Salim is frozen for another few seconds, then turns and walks out of the door. Punnoose appears at the door. Maman nods to him and he slips off after Salim. 62 INT. DORMITORY, ORPHANAGE. NIGHT. 62 All the children are asleep apart from Jamal who is crouched underneath a couple of wash-basins. (CONTINUED) 40. 62 CONTINUED: 62 He is talking through a plate-sized hole in the crumbling masonry. Latika's eyes can be seen. JAMAL ...weddings, government things, big parties. If Maman says my voice is ready. Big money. LATIKA Enough for a room? JAMAL Easily. Maybe an apartment. LATIKA Really? JAMAL That's what Arvind said. On Harbour Road. You, me and Salim. The three musketeers. LATIKA Harbour Road! We can have ice cream from Babanji's. JAMAL Every day if we want. Salim appears at the door. Nods his head at Jamal. JAMAL (CONT'D) It's my turn. LATIKA Good luck, Jamal. Latika's hand comes through the gap. Jamal takes it for a moment. Salim hisses at Jamal. He lets go of the hand and heads out. 63 EXT. PATH. NIGHT. 63 Salim and Jamal walk along the path, Jamal humming happily. Salim checks behind him, sees Punnoose following. JAMAL So, this is it, hey, bhai? The good life, here we come.... SALIM (conversationally) Athos. Jamal is suddenly alert. Slows (CONTINUED) 41. 63 CONTINUED: 63 JAMAL Porthos? Salim nods. Big smile. Puts a hand on Jamal's shoulder. SALIM When I say. 64 INT. SHACK. NIGHT. 64 Salim guides Jamal into the shack where Maman and the Villager are waiting. Maman smiles. Punnoose slips in behind Salim. MAMAN Jamal, hello. You have done well. It's time for you to- turn professional. JAMAL Really? MAMAN Sing me a song, yaar. How about Chalo Ri Murali, huh? My favourite. Jamal opens his mouth, then closes it again. Holds out his hand. JAMAL Fifty rupees. MAMAN What? JAMAL (shrugs) I've turned professional. What can I do? Maman laughs. MAMAN Sala...! He throws some notes at him. 65 EXT. SHACK. NIGHT. 65 Outside, a giggle. Latika is peering through a gap in the wall. 42. 66 INT. SHACK. NIGHT. 66 Jamal begins to sing. Maman waits a while, then nods to Punnoose. Behind Jamal, Punnoose hands Salim the bottle of chloroform and the rag. Salim approaches the back of Jamal. Salim waits until he has finished the song. Raises his hand with the rag in it. Maman smiles, nods. Salim flings the contents of the bottle in Punnoose's face. Punnoose screams and stumbles back clutching his eyes, knocking over the table. SALIM Go! Salim and Jamal scramble for the door. The knocked-over candle catches the spilled chloroform and a curtain which whooshes up in flame. LATIKA Jamal! JAMAL Run! 66A EXT. SHACK. NIGHT. 66A They charge past the prone Arvind- a flash of bloodied bandages covering his eyes. 67 EXT. HILLSIDE. NIGHT. 67 Heavy, desperate breathing. Feet stumble on roots. Fall into holes. The three children are running. Branches smack into their faces. But they are so scared, nothing will stop them. Behind them, torches scour the undergrowth. Men shouting. They break out of the woods and are confronted with a train goods yard. 68 EXT. GOODS YARD. NIGHT. 68 They run over the tracks, between the trains, but the shouts are getting louder, the torches closer. A diesel engine is moving out of the station. Jamal, Latika and Salim sprint for the Guard's Van at the very back of the moving train. Punnoose is closest to them. Salim is fastest and first to jump the train. He holds out his hand. Jamal grabs it and is hauled in. Jamal holds his hand out to Latika. JAMAL Come on! Faster! She reaches out to him. Their hands almost touch. (CONTINUED) 43. 68 CONTINUED: 68 JAMAL (CONT'D) Take it! Take it! I can't reach... Salim barges Jamal out of the way. Jamal stumbles back as Salim reaches his hand out to Latika, so he doesn't see Latika's hand grasp Salim's, nor see their eyes lock onto each other, nor see Salim very deliberately let go of her hand. Latika stumbles. LATIKA Jamal! Jamal scrambles to the rail. The train gains more speed. Jamal climbs on to the top rung, makes to jump, but Salim flings him backward. Jamal tries to scramble to his feet again, but Salim restrains him. JAMAL Got to go back. We've got to go back. SALIM He'll kill us if we go back. Jamal! He was going to take your eyes out- with a bloody spoon! The train is speeding along. Jamal breaks free and stares back at Latika. SALIM (CONT'D) She'll be alright. She always is. Latika stumbles again and stops running. They watch as Punnoose catches up with her and stops running. He smashes Latika to the ground. 69 INT. STUDIO. NIGHT. 69 PREM The question was, for two hundred and fifty thousand rupees: who wrote the famous song Chalo Ri Murali. I should warn you, Jamal: from this question on, if you get the answer wrong you lose everything. So. Are you sure? The life-lines are there.... JAMAL Surdas. PREM Surdas. Apka final jawab? (CONTINUED) 44. 69 CONTINUED: 69 JAMAL Yes. PREM Computer-ji, A lock kiya-jaye. The lights dim, the music swells. Prem presses a button on his computer: looks him straight in the eyes for an age. PREM (CONT'D) (simply) Guess what? You're right. Applause, music, lights. 70 INT. INSPECTOR'S OFFICE. DAY. 70 The Inspector is eying Jamal, weighing it all up. JAMAL (shrugging) Blind singers earn double. You know that. INSPECTOR And what happened to the girl? They blinded her too? JAMAL (shakes his head) They had other plans. Though it took me a long, long time to find out. 71 EXT. TRAIN. MORNING. 71 Salim and Jamal are sitting on top of the train. Jamal is staring blankly down the track. SALIM Ar , Jamal... Salim puts an arm around Jamal's shoulder. Jamal wipes the tears from his eyes, shakes his head furiously. Salim gets up. Holds out his hand. SALIM (CONT'D) Come. JAMAL Where you going? SALIM First class, bhai. Where else? 45.

turns

How many times the word 'turns' appears in the text?

to a colleague. Puts out his cigarette with purpose. JAMAL Let's go, bhai. Salim and Jamal run. The girl follows. 22. 33 EXT. MUMBAI. EVENING. 33 Salim and Jamal stand on a hill overlooking the city. Black smoke billows from a large area that is clearly the Juhu slum. Standing a little way off is the girl. JAMAL We should go back. Silence. JAMAL (CONT'D) See if Ama- Salim shakes his head fiercely, silencing Jamal for a moment. But only a moment. JAMAL (CONT'D) What about Jeevan Chacha? Salim shakes his head. JAMAL (CONT'D) Maybe he- Salim shakes his head again. SALIM - I saw him. He was with them. JAMAL But he wouldn't hurt- SALIM - he was with them! JAMAL But- SALIM - shut up, Jamal, can't you? Just shut up! Salim turns away and sees the girl. Picks up a rock and hurls it at her. She dodges, takes a couple of steps back but makes no real attempt to get away. He finds another rock and hurls this in her direction too. SALIM (CONT'D) Ja! Then a flash of lightning and thunder rumbles across the city. Rain begins to come down. JAMAL What shall we do? (CONTINUED) 23. 33 CONTINUED: 33 No answer. Jamal sits down. Salim sits down. At a distance, the girl sits down. Rain pours down their faces. 34 INT. BUILDER'S YARD. NIGHT. 34 Rain as you've never seen. A pile of huge water pipes in a sprawling builder's yard. Jamal is in one pipe, Salim above him in another. They are both soaked, shivering, but have found some plastic sheet to wrap themselves in. Outside, thirty feet away, stands the girl. Staring. Salim hisses angrily at the girl. SALIM Go away. Ja, ja! The girl might not even have heard. SALIM (CONT'D) She'll have the Security Guard onto us, standing there. JAMAL Not if we let her in. SALIM No. JAMAL She could be the third musketeer. SALIM I am the head of this family, now. And I say no. Piss off, you. Salim huddles down in the pipe. After a while, Jamal follows suit. SALIM (CONT'D) We don't even know what the third musketeer's called. 35 EXT. JUHU SLUM. DAY 35 A flash of Jamal's mother being clubbed to the ground. Her scream. 36 INT. BUILDER'S YARD. LATER. 36 Jamal wakes with a jolt and a scream half-swallowed in his mouth. He shuts his eyes tight, trying to force the image out. His breathing slows and he sees the girl staring at him. Salim, too, is staring into nothing. The rain is still falling. (CONTINUED) 24. 36 CONTINUED: 36 The girl goes back to drawing shapes in the mud with her finger. Jamal climbs out of the pipe. Looks at Salim for permission or refusal, but he just continues to stare. So, Jamal walks across to her. She looks up, wary. JAMAL Where's your Mother? Silence. JAMAL (CONT'D) Father? The girl shakes her head slightly. Jamal takes the plastic sheet from around his shoulders. Gives it to her. JAMAL (CONT'D) I'm Jamal. He's Salim. LATIKA Latika. Jamal goes back to his water pipe, climbs in. Watches her huddled under the sheet. Sighs, motions for her to join him. She darts across, jumps into the water pipe and huddles up next to Jamal. 37 INT. INSPECTOR'S OFFICE. DAY. 37 Jamal looks at the Inspector. JAMAL I wake up every morning wishing I didn't know the answer to that question? If it wasn't for Ram and Allah, I would still have a Mother. 38 INT. STUDIO. NIGHT 38 JAMAL D) A bow and arrow. PREM Final answer? JAMAL Final answer. Prem stares at him for dramatic effect. Presses his computer. PREM Computer-ji, D lock kiya-jaye. (CONTINUED) 25. 38 CONTINUED: 38 The lights dim, the music swells. PREM (CONT'D) Jamal Malik, you answered D? Ram is depicted with a bow and arrow in his hand. And guess what? You've just won sixteen thousand rupees! Well done, my friend. Time for a commercial break- don't go away, now. Music, applause. Prem switches off his professional smile. Gets up. PREM (CONT'D) Got lucky, huh? I'd take the money. You'll never get the next one. JAMAL You're from the Juhu slum, aren't you? PREM Hmm? Sure. Know where I live now, kid? Pali Hill. Twelve bedrooms, a/c in every room, two kitchens, a gym and a screening room. Steel balls is what it takes, my friend, steel balls. The Floor Manager comes over and gives his head-phones set to Prem. Prem listens. DIRECTOR V/O Prem? Tone it down, for goodness sake. You're making him a laughing stock. Prem glances up at the gallery with contempt. PREM We're having fun here. They love it...Where the hell do you get them from? He makes no attempt to hide the conversation from Jamal. DIRECTOR V/O It's supposed to be a quiz show, not a blood sport. FLOOR MANAGER Two minutes. (CONTINUED) 26. 38 CONTINUED: (2) 38 PREM Stop wetting your pants. I'll be a good little boy with the next one. Promise. He chucks the head-phones back at the Floor Manager. Glances in the wings. Sees Nita, the make-up woman. Gets up and goes over. 39 INT. STUDIO. BACKSTAGE. NIGHT. 39 In the half-light, backstage, Nita dabs his face with powder. PREM Meet me after the show. Please. NITA No. PREM Nita, I can explain. NITA No need. I read it in bloody Stardust. Didn't even have the balls to tell me. "Prem's happiness with another baby on the way". After everything you said... PREM Baby, it all happened before I met you. I swear to you. NITA She's got the gestation period of an elephant, then. Prem is about to object. But instead, he laughs. PREM You see? Amidst all this misery, only you can make me laugh. Scornful but hints of melting. NITA All this misery... PREM Her and I- nothing. You have to believe me, baby... Nita turns away. The Floor Manager comes over. FLOOR MANAGER One minute. (CONTINUED) 27. 39 CONTINUED: 39 Prem slings himself in a chair. PREM No. I'm not going on. NITA Prem... PREM I can't. Without you, it's all pointless. Clicks his fingers at the Floor Manager. PREM (CONT'D) You. Tell the Director. Nita shakes her head at the Floor Manager who by now is looking very worried. FLOOR MANAGER Thirty seconds. Prem shrugs and folds his arms. Sees her weaken. NITA Prem... PREM Calypso Bar, private room, just you and me? FLOOR MANAGER Fifteen. NITA (furious) Alright. He grins, jumps up, blows her a kiss, and stalks back on stage. 40 INT. STUDIO. NIGHT. 40 He sits back down, says almost to himself. PREM Steel balls. Turns to Jamal. PREM (CONT'D) Okay, Juhu boy, you've had a good run. Take your Mother to Khandala and eat some chiki. JAMAL My Mother's dead. (CONTINUED) 28. 40 CONTINUED: 40 PREM Well, your girlfriend then. Even better. JAMAL I don't have a girl-friend. PREM Live wire like you? You surprise me. FLOOR MANAGER Five, four... The warm-up man starts the applause. TALKBACK V/O ....three, two, one... Cheering and music. Prem switches on his charm. PREM Welcome back to Who Wants to be a Millionaire! Our contestant, Jamal Malik, Call Centre Assistant- from Mumbai, is on sixteen thousand rupees and has already used one lifeline: Ask the Audience. So, my friend: are you ready for the next question? JAMAL Yes. PREM Then, let's play. Portentous music. The lights dim. PREM (CONT'D) For sixty-four thousand rupees. The British architect Frederick Stevens designed which famous building in India? Is it: A) The Taj Mahal. B) Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus. C) India Gate. D) Howrah Bridge. What do you think, Jamal? Are you one of those tea-boys with a penchant for architecture? 41 INT. CHHATRAPATI SHIVAJI TERMINUS. DAY. 41 Known to everyone as VT station, this monument to Victorian railway architecture is a dangerous place to be at rush hour. (CONTINUED) 29. 41 CONTINUED: 41 Even before the train has stopped, men are jumping from the open doors, or vaulting out of the windows or from the roof of the train to join the tens of thousands of Mumbaites streaming to and from work. A seventeen-year old Jamal squeezes himself out of a train and shoves through the crowds. He checks the time. The digital numerals flick to five O'clock. Looks around the tide of humanity. 42 INT. STUDIO. NIGHT. 42 PREM So, what's it to be? Walk away and this cheque for sixteen thousand rupees is yours. Look, it's even got your name on it. He produces a cheque and waves it at Jamal. JAMAL I don't have a bank account. Laughter from the audience. Prem is momentarily wrong- footed. JAMAL (CONT'D) But I'll take cash. More laughter, this time with Jamal, rather than at him. Prem gets up and starts rummaging theatrically through his jacket pockets and trousers. PREM Nope. Looks like the Producer's stolen my wallet again- JAMAL - I'll play. Nobody was expecting this. Least of all Prem who has to rearrange his features into one of surprised delight. He sits down. PREM You'll play? JAMAL Why not? PREM Well, well, well. We've got a wild one, here. Prem tears up the cheque with theatrical slowness. (CONTINUED) 30. 42 CONTINUED: 42 PREM (CONT'D) For sixty-four thousand rupees, Ladies and Gentlemen, the question once again.... 43 INT. CHHATRAPATI SHIVAJI TERMINUS. DAY. 43 The digital clocks show five fifteen. Shoving the descending river of people out of his way, the eighteen year-old Jamal is forging a path up steps that cross the platforms. He pushes to the middle of the footbridge and leans out on the side railings. He scans the sea of people, desperately. Then he sees her: the eighteen year-old Latika, heart-stoppingly beautiful, over the other side of the station. A world away. She is scanning the crowd, as wired as he is. JAMAL Latika! Latika! But though he is screaming her name, his voice is swallowed by the noise around him. Then he sees two thuggish-looking men also fighting a way towards her. JAMAL (CONT'D) Latika! Frightened now, he fights his way down the steps, one figure against an army of white-robed people. JAMAL (CONT'D) Latika! JAMAL V/O Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus. PREM V/O Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus. Sure? JAMAL V/O I think so. PREM V/O You think so. A brave man, Ladies and Gentlemen, a brave man. 44 INT. CHHATRAPATI SHIVAJI TERMINUS. DAY. 44 The commuters have mostly gone. Jamal is pacing the platform desperately. He stops, stares blankly at the statue in front of him- a proud, rather pompous figure in a Victorian frock coat. The plaque reads: Frederick Stevens. 31. 45 INT. INSPECTOR'S OFFICE. NIGHT. 45 The Inspector, Srinivas and Jamal are staring at the video recorder. JAMAL Yes. Final answer. Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus. PREM Is the right answer! Sixty-four thousand rupees to you, Sir! Applause and music. The Inspector presses pause. Stares at Jamal. INSPECTOR And did she come back? Jamal smiles sadly. JAMAL I wouldn't be here if she had. INSPECTOR Pretty was she? Jamal stares down at his feet. INSPECTOR (CONT'D) Guess not. Right in the eyes. JAMAL The most beautiful woman in the world. Constable Srinivas snorts. Suddenly, Jamal is out of his chair and at Srinivas' throat. The combined force of the Inspector and Srinivas force him roughly back down. He is again handcuffed to the chair. INSPECTOR OF POLICE Well, well. The slum dog barks. Money or women. The reason for most mistakes in life. Looks like you got mixed up with both. Srinivas, you need the exercise: a trip to VT Station to check on the statue. And lock your bloody bike up. Constable Srinivas swears under his breath but bumbles out. (CONTINUED) 32. 45 CONTINUED: 45 INSPECTOR That's the chutiy out the way. Now, man to man. How did you know all the answers? JAMAL If I knew, I'd tell you. 46 OMITTED 46 47 OMITTED 47 48 INT. STUDIO. NIGHT. 48 PREM Now we're into the serious money. For two hundred and fifty thousand rupees, ladies and gentlemen, a quarter of a million rupees...the song Chalo Ri Murali was written by which famous Indian poet. Was it A) Surdas. B) Tulsidas. C) Mira Bai. D) Kabir. Remember you still have two lifelines- fifty- fifty and Phone A Friend. Tempted to use one? JAMAL No. PREM No? JAMAL I know this one. PREM Oh. I see. An expert on the poets, huh? The lights dim, the music swells and Prem presses his computer. 49 EXT. MUMBAI STREET. NIGHT. 49 Jamal is studying a piece of paper and reading out numbers from it. There is something not quite right about Jamal- perhaps the fact that there are two feet by his ears. Salim is standing on his shoulders and spraying the numbers on a wall with an aerosol and a certain lack of confidence. (CONTINUED) 33. 49 CONTINUED: 49 JAMAL Four, nine, zero, nine- the one with the stick going down, Salim- six- stick going up- Latika's head appears from around the corner. LATIKA (whispered) Oi! But they don't hear. Then she is running for her life past the pair of them. JAMAL Six, one, shit, let's go- Salim collapses off Jamal's shoulders and all three run off down an alley past a dozen of the gang's sprayed-on adverts all reading: "Beanbags- 989 4909661". A fat Security Guard with a long stick huffs round the corner. Chases them up an alley. Nowhere to go except through an imposing gate that clearly leads to a private house. SECURITY GUARD Got you now, little shits. 50 EXT. GARDEN. NIGHT. 50 They charge across the lawn, down one side of the house where all the washing is hanging. The Guard gets caught up in drying sheets, towels. He fights his way through to see Salim, Latika and Jamal leaping over the wall to safety. But Jamal turns, jumps back and grabs a girl's dress from the line. SECURITY GUARD Aha! Little thief! The Security Guard lands a couple of blows on Jamal's back as he dodges around him and back across the lawn, dress in hand. The Security Guard gives up. SECURITY GUARD (CONT'D) Pervert! 51 INT. ALLEY. NIGHT. 51 Jamal is examing the bruises on his legs. SALIM Useless bloody look-out. What good is she, huh? (CONTINUED) 34. 51 CONTINUED: 51 LATIKA (infuriated) I tried to warn you. JAMAL It's okay, Salim. Latika slips on the dress. Spins. Both of them look up. Stare. She pulls her hair back, smiles, is transformed into a beautiful girl. 52 EXT. GORAI BEACH DUMPING GROUND. DAY. 52 Blazing sun. Diggers and trucks are shifting mounds of rubble on a rubbish dump that seems to stretch for ever. Oblivious to the dust kicked up by the trucks, Latika is picking up old plastic bags, examining each one and putting the less worn in a big sack. The dress is recognisable but dusty and torn. She stoops to dig another bag out of the dirt, but stops and stares. Shimmering in the heat, a rickety pick-up truck comes through the rubbish dump gates. Toots at the Guard who waves, pulls up in the dump. "Hope Orphanage is written on the side of the van. A man gets out. Looks around. 53 INT. `TENT'. DAY. 53 Under sheets of plastic propped up on sticks, Jamal and Salim are sleeping out the hottest part of the day. Jamal wakes to see a figure standing over him- a silhouette with a halo of sun behind him. Out of his bag, the man produces a bottle of Thumbs Up. He uncaps it with an alluring hiss. It is almost an advert for thirst-quenching affluence. Almost instinctively, Salim and Jamal stir. MAN Hello. He hands the bottle to Salim, gets another from his bag and waves it questioningly at Jamal. MAN (CONT'D) Hot, huh? My name is Maman. 54 EXT. ORPHANAGE. EVENING. 54 The hills on the edge of Bombay. Greenery and space, for the first time in the film. The pick-up truck pulls up outside a building with Jamal, Salim and Latika sitting on a bench in the back. Maman gets out. Drops the gate on the back of the pick-up. MAMAN Anyone hungry? Come on in. 35. 55 INT. ORPHANAGE COURTYARD. EVENING. 55 Twenty children are eating at long benches in a ramshackle courtyard. Maman, ushers Jamal, Salim and Latika in and sits them down at one of the benches. He waves a hand and a giant man, Punnoose, comes over with a big bowl of food. The three tear into it. Cleaning every last morsel of rice from his plate, Jamal looks up and notices a table peopled entirely with blind or crippled children. Some of the legless are eating on the floor next to the table. Jamal leans over to Salim. JAMAL He must be a very good man to look after these people. SALIM (glancing at them) A saint. Arvind, a boy smaller than either Jamal or Salim overhears. ARVIND We're not allowed to talk to them. LATIKA Why not? Arvind shrugs. Latika licks her plate, glances at Maman who is looking right at them. LATIKA (CONT'D) Well, if there are seconds, Maman is definitely a Saint. As if telepathic, Maman signals to Punnoose and he brings a large bowl of rice and dhal over to them. Latika looks at Jamal and Salim. They burst out laughing. LATIKA (CONT'D) I tell you, Lord Siva is with us. 56 INT. ORPHANAGE. EVENING. 56 Salim, Latika, Jamal and a group of children are standing in a line singing a doha- ancient lyrics set to music. Maman is leading the singing, walking up and down the line listening to each one individually. He stops at one small boy, Arvind, and listens. Nods his head, pleased, and continues down the line until he stops in front of Jamal. Holds up his hand. MAMAN Stop! You. Again. (CONTINUED) 36. 56 CONTINUED: 56 Jamal starts singing again. He has the sweetest of voices. Untrained but pure. Maman smiles, ruffles Jamal's hair, impressed. MAMAN (CONT'D) Everyone. They all join in. Maman continues down the line. He stops at Salim whose octave-slipping singing is lusty and appallingly out of tune. Maman winces and moves on. Standing next to Salim, Latika giggles. Immediately, Salim is on her. Before a fight breaks out, Punnoose pulls Salim off Latika and hurls him across the room. Salim gets up and charges at Punnoose. For a second, Punnoose is back-footed, but then pins Salim's arms to his side. Maman laughs. Approaches Salim. MAMAN (CONT'D) You sing like one, and you fight like one. I think you've found your dog, Punnoose. 57 EXT. CENTRAL MUMBAI TRAFFIC. DAY. 57 A group of children are sitting in the jumble of concrete under a motorway flyover. Cars surround them, bumper to bumper. Latika and Jamal are playing an improvised hopscotch on concrete slabs. They are giggling, bumping into each other, tickling, laughing. Salim and Punnoose are sitting together, smoking. Salim is staring hard at Jamal and Latika until Punnoose grunts, a sign for Salim to clap his hands. SALIM Okay, let's go, let's go! It's not a bloody holiday! The children get to their feet. Latika sighs, puts a patch over her eye and grabs a pair of crutches. Suddenly, the lame beggar. Salim goes over to one of the girls, who is carrying a sleeping baby. Puts out his hand. SALIM (CONT'D) Give me that. The girl shakes her head. Salim grabs her by the hair in one hand and takes the baby with the other. He shoves her to the ground. The other children stare. JAMAL Hey, Salim! He challenges Jamal. SALIM What, chot bhai? You got a problem? (CONTINUED) 37. 57 CONTINUED: 57 He laughs and walks over to Latika. SALIM (CONT'D) Here. For you. LATIKA I don't want it. SALIM You'll earn double. I'm doing you a favour, Latika. JAMAL She doesn't want it. SALIM Chup, Jamal. Latika turns away and begins to walk towards the cars. SALIM (CONT'D) I'll drop it. He holds the baby up. Latika grabs the baby with a cry just as Salim releases it from his hands. Salim pinches the baby. SALIM (CONT'D) Triple if it's crying. Latika snatches it away. Salim laughs, goes back to sitting with Punnoose. The children scatter to the cars trapped at the lights, tapping plaintively on the windows and making the universal begging gesture. 58 INT. ORPHANAGE. KITCHEN. NIGHT. 58 Surrounded by beer bottles, Punnoose is slumped asleep by the kitchen door. Latika edges past, avoids the cook sleeping under the table and goes to a shelf laden with vegetables. She pulls down a bunch of chillies still on the vine, strips a few off and tip-toes out with them. 59 INT. ORPHANAGE. DORMITORY. NIGHT. 59 Sleeping children, three or four to a mattress on the floor. Latika tip-toes around the mattresses. She pauses over one in particular where we see Salim, asleep. She carefully pulls up the sheet, delves underneath. Pleasant dreams cross Salim's sleeping face for a second. Then suddenly, he is bolt upright and screaming. He charges around the room clutching his genitals in agony. SALIM Madher chod...! (CONTINUED) 38. 59 CONTINUED: 59 He sprints out of the room, wailing. 60 INT. ORPHANAGE. SHOWERS. NIGHT. 60 The lights are on and two dozen children are screaming with laughter as Salim stands under the make-shift shower directing the water down his pants to his burning genitals, his face a picture of agony. Latika wipes crushed chillies from her hands. SALIM You're dead, sala. She smiles and walks past Jamal with a shrug. Then Punnoose comes stalking in and the children scatter away. PUNNOOSE Get back to bed, dogs! What the hell... JAMAL V/O They taught me every song in the history of Indian music. INSPECTOR V/O And why would they do that, I wonder? 61 INT. SHACK. NIGHT. 61 In a shack, Arvind is singing one of Surdas' bhajans in front of Maman and an old man who by his ragged appearance must be a villager. Punnoose and Salim sit behind Arvind. MAMAN Very good, very good. I am pleased, Arvind. He is ready. ARVIND Ready? Maman nods to Punnoose. Before Arvind can turn round, Punnoose has covered his mouth with a cloth and after the briefest of struggles, Arvind's body goes limp. The villager puts an old tin box on the table. Taking the lid from the tin, he brings out a cloth and unwraps it. Inside is a spoon. He checks the edge with his thumb. Sharp. Douses it with a clear liquid from a bottle and passes it over a candle flame. The spoon whooshes with a high flame for a moment. The villager wipes it with the cloth nods to Punnoose. PUNNOOSE Salim! (CONTINUED) 39. 61 CONTINUED: 61 Utterly bemused, Salim nevertheless helps Punnoose lay Arvind on the table. The villager takes hold of Arvind's eyelid and pulls it open. He brings the spoon close. Suddenly, Salim is being sick in the corner of the shack. By the time he has turned back, the villager is wiping the spoon on a blood-soaked rag. MAMAN Okay. Take him out the back. Punnoose picks up Arvind and carries him out. MAMAN (CONT'D) Now the other one. Salim, go get Jamal. A frozen moment. SALIM What? MAMAN Gunfighter Number One, isn't that right, Salim? The money, the women, the cars...you want them bad, huh? And why not? Maman gets out of his chair. Approaches Salim. MAMAN (CONT'D) The time has come to choose, yaar. The life of a slum dog or the life of a man. A real man. A gunfighter, Salim. Maman holds Salim's head in his hands. MAMAN (CONT'D) Your destiny is in your hands, bhai. You can be me. Or nobody. Understand? SALIM Yes, Maman. Maman nods. MAMAN So, brother, go get Jamal. Salim is frozen for another few seconds, then turns and walks out of the door. Punnoose appears at the door. Maman nods to him and he slips off after Salim. 62 INT. DORMITORY, ORPHANAGE. NIGHT. 62 All the children are asleep apart from Jamal who is crouched underneath a couple of wash-basins. (CONTINUED) 40. 62 CONTINUED: 62 He is talking through a plate-sized hole in the crumbling masonry. Latika's eyes can be seen. JAMAL ...weddings, government things, big parties. If Maman says my voice is ready. Big money. LATIKA Enough for a room? JAMAL Easily. Maybe an apartment. LATIKA Really? JAMAL That's what Arvind said. On Harbour Road. You, me and Salim. The three musketeers. LATIKA Harbour Road! We can have ice cream from Babanji's. JAMAL Every day if we want. Salim appears at the door. Nods his head at Jamal. JAMAL (CONT'D) It's my turn. LATIKA Good luck, Jamal. Latika's hand comes through the gap. Jamal takes it for a moment. Salim hisses at Jamal. He lets go of the hand and heads out. 63 EXT. PATH. NIGHT. 63 Salim and Jamal walk along the path, Jamal humming happily. Salim checks behind him, sees Punnoose following. JAMAL So, this is it, hey, bhai? The good life, here we come.... SALIM (conversationally) Athos. Jamal is suddenly alert. Slows (CONTINUED) 41. 63 CONTINUED: 63 JAMAL Porthos? Salim nods. Big smile. Puts a hand on Jamal's shoulder. SALIM When I say. 64 INT. SHACK. NIGHT. 64 Salim guides Jamal into the shack where Maman and the Villager are waiting. Maman smiles. Punnoose slips in behind Salim. MAMAN Jamal, hello. You have done well. It's time for you to- turn professional. JAMAL Really? MAMAN Sing me a song, yaar. How about Chalo Ri Murali, huh? My favourite. Jamal opens his mouth, then closes it again. Holds out his hand. JAMAL Fifty rupees. MAMAN What? JAMAL (shrugs) I've turned professional. What can I do? Maman laughs. MAMAN Sala...! He throws some notes at him. 65 EXT. SHACK. NIGHT. 65 Outside, a giggle. Latika is peering through a gap in the wall. 42. 66 INT. SHACK. NIGHT. 66 Jamal begins to sing. Maman waits a while, then nods to Punnoose. Behind Jamal, Punnoose hands Salim the bottle of chloroform and the rag. Salim approaches the back of Jamal. Salim waits until he has finished the song. Raises his hand with the rag in it. Maman smiles, nods. Salim flings the contents of the bottle in Punnoose's face. Punnoose screams and stumbles back clutching his eyes, knocking over the table. SALIM Go! Salim and Jamal scramble for the door. The knocked-over candle catches the spilled chloroform and a curtain which whooshes up in flame. LATIKA Jamal! JAMAL Run! 66A EXT. SHACK. NIGHT. 66A They charge past the prone Arvind- a flash of bloodied bandages covering his eyes. 67 EXT. HILLSIDE. NIGHT. 67 Heavy, desperate breathing. Feet stumble on roots. Fall into holes. The three children are running. Branches smack into their faces. But they are so scared, nothing will stop them. Behind them, torches scour the undergrowth. Men shouting. They break out of the woods and are confronted with a train goods yard. 68 EXT. GOODS YARD. NIGHT. 68 They run over the tracks, between the trains, but the shouts are getting louder, the torches closer. A diesel engine is moving out of the station. Jamal, Latika and Salim sprint for the Guard's Van at the very back of the moving train. Punnoose is closest to them. Salim is fastest and first to jump the train. He holds out his hand. Jamal grabs it and is hauled in. Jamal holds his hand out to Latika. JAMAL Come on! Faster! She reaches out to him. Their hands almost touch. (CONTINUED) 43. 68 CONTINUED: 68 JAMAL (CONT'D) Take it! Take it! I can't reach... Salim barges Jamal out of the way. Jamal stumbles back as Salim reaches his hand out to Latika, so he doesn't see Latika's hand grasp Salim's, nor see their eyes lock onto each other, nor see Salim very deliberately let go of her hand. Latika stumbles. LATIKA Jamal! Jamal scrambles to the rail. The train gains more speed. Jamal climbs on to the top rung, makes to jump, but Salim flings him backward. Jamal tries to scramble to his feet again, but Salim restrains him. JAMAL Got to go back. We've got to go back. SALIM He'll kill us if we go back. Jamal! He was going to take your eyes out- with a bloody spoon! The train is speeding along. Jamal breaks free and stares back at Latika. SALIM (CONT'D) She'll be alright. She always is. Latika stumbles again and stops running. They watch as Punnoose catches up with her and stops running. He smashes Latika to the ground. 69 INT. STUDIO. NIGHT. 69 PREM The question was, for two hundred and fifty thousand rupees: who wrote the famous song Chalo Ri Murali. I should warn you, Jamal: from this question on, if you get the answer wrong you lose everything. So. Are you sure? The life-lines are there.... JAMAL Surdas. PREM Surdas. Apka final jawab? (CONTINUED) 44. 69 CONTINUED: 69 JAMAL Yes. PREM Computer-ji, A lock kiya-jaye. The lights dim, the music swells. Prem presses a button on his computer: looks him straight in the eyes for an age. PREM (CONT'D) (simply) Guess what? You're right. Applause, music, lights. 70 INT. INSPECTOR'S OFFICE. DAY. 70 The Inspector is eying Jamal, weighing it all up. JAMAL (shrugging) Blind singers earn double. You know that. INSPECTOR And what happened to the girl? They blinded her too? JAMAL (shakes his head) They had other plans. Though it took me a long, long time to find out. 71 EXT. TRAIN. MORNING. 71 Salim and Jamal are sitting on top of the train. Jamal is staring blankly down the track. SALIM Ar , Jamal... Salim puts an arm around Jamal's shoulder. Jamal wipes the tears from his eyes, shakes his head furiously. Salim gets up. Holds out his hand. SALIM (CONT'D) Come. JAMAL Where you going? SALIM First class, bhai. Where else? 45.

dim

How many times the word 'dim' appears in the text?

to a colleague. Puts out his cigarette with purpose. JAMAL Let's go, bhai. Salim and Jamal run. The girl follows. 22. 33 EXT. MUMBAI. EVENING. 33 Salim and Jamal stand on a hill overlooking the city. Black smoke billows from a large area that is clearly the Juhu slum. Standing a little way off is the girl. JAMAL We should go back. Silence. JAMAL (CONT'D) See if Ama- Salim shakes his head fiercely, silencing Jamal for a moment. But only a moment. JAMAL (CONT'D) What about Jeevan Chacha? Salim shakes his head. JAMAL (CONT'D) Maybe he- Salim shakes his head again. SALIM - I saw him. He was with them. JAMAL But he wouldn't hurt- SALIM - he was with them! JAMAL But- SALIM - shut up, Jamal, can't you? Just shut up! Salim turns away and sees the girl. Picks up a rock and hurls it at her. She dodges, takes a couple of steps back but makes no real attempt to get away. He finds another rock and hurls this in her direction too. SALIM (CONT'D) Ja! Then a flash of lightning and thunder rumbles across the city. Rain begins to come down. JAMAL What shall we do? (CONTINUED) 23. 33 CONTINUED: 33 No answer. Jamal sits down. Salim sits down. At a distance, the girl sits down. Rain pours down their faces. 34 INT. BUILDER'S YARD. NIGHT. 34 Rain as you've never seen. A pile of huge water pipes in a sprawling builder's yard. Jamal is in one pipe, Salim above him in another. They are both soaked, shivering, but have found some plastic sheet to wrap themselves in. Outside, thirty feet away, stands the girl. Staring. Salim hisses angrily at the girl. SALIM Go away. Ja, ja! The girl might not even have heard. SALIM (CONT'D) She'll have the Security Guard onto us, standing there. JAMAL Not if we let her in. SALIM No. JAMAL She could be the third musketeer. SALIM I am the head of this family, now. And I say no. Piss off, you. Salim huddles down in the pipe. After a while, Jamal follows suit. SALIM (CONT'D) We don't even know what the third musketeer's called. 35 EXT. JUHU SLUM. DAY 35 A flash of Jamal's mother being clubbed to the ground. Her scream. 36 INT. BUILDER'S YARD. LATER. 36 Jamal wakes with a jolt and a scream half-swallowed in his mouth. He shuts his eyes tight, trying to force the image out. His breathing slows and he sees the girl staring at him. Salim, too, is staring into nothing. The rain is still falling. (CONTINUED) 24. 36 CONTINUED: 36 The girl goes back to drawing shapes in the mud with her finger. Jamal climbs out of the pipe. Looks at Salim for permission or refusal, but he just continues to stare. So, Jamal walks across to her. She looks up, wary. JAMAL Where's your Mother? Silence. JAMAL (CONT'D) Father? The girl shakes her head slightly. Jamal takes the plastic sheet from around his shoulders. Gives it to her. JAMAL (CONT'D) I'm Jamal. He's Salim. LATIKA Latika. Jamal goes back to his water pipe, climbs in. Watches her huddled under the sheet. Sighs, motions for her to join him. She darts across, jumps into the water pipe and huddles up next to Jamal. 37 INT. INSPECTOR'S OFFICE. DAY. 37 Jamal looks at the Inspector. JAMAL I wake up every morning wishing I didn't know the answer to that question? If it wasn't for Ram and Allah, I would still have a Mother. 38 INT. STUDIO. NIGHT 38 JAMAL D) A bow and arrow. PREM Final answer? JAMAL Final answer. Prem stares at him for dramatic effect. Presses his computer. PREM Computer-ji, D lock kiya-jaye. (CONTINUED) 25. 38 CONTINUED: 38 The lights dim, the music swells. PREM (CONT'D) Jamal Malik, you answered D? Ram is depicted with a bow and arrow in his hand. And guess what? You've just won sixteen thousand rupees! Well done, my friend. Time for a commercial break- don't go away, now. Music, applause. Prem switches off his professional smile. Gets up. PREM (CONT'D) Got lucky, huh? I'd take the money. You'll never get the next one. JAMAL You're from the Juhu slum, aren't you? PREM Hmm? Sure. Know where I live now, kid? Pali Hill. Twelve bedrooms, a/c in every room, two kitchens, a gym and a screening room. Steel balls is what it takes, my friend, steel balls. The Floor Manager comes over and gives his head-phones set to Prem. Prem listens. DIRECTOR V/O Prem? Tone it down, for goodness sake. You're making him a laughing stock. Prem glances up at the gallery with contempt. PREM We're having fun here. They love it...Where the hell do you get them from? He makes no attempt to hide the conversation from Jamal. DIRECTOR V/O It's supposed to be a quiz show, not a blood sport. FLOOR MANAGER Two minutes. (CONTINUED) 26. 38 CONTINUED: (2) 38 PREM Stop wetting your pants. I'll be a good little boy with the next one. Promise. He chucks the head-phones back at the Floor Manager. Glances in the wings. Sees Nita, the make-up woman. Gets up and goes over. 39 INT. STUDIO. BACKSTAGE. NIGHT. 39 In the half-light, backstage, Nita dabs his face with powder. PREM Meet me after the show. Please. NITA No. PREM Nita, I can explain. NITA No need. I read it in bloody Stardust. Didn't even have the balls to tell me. "Prem's happiness with another baby on the way". After everything you said... PREM Baby, it all happened before I met you. I swear to you. NITA She's got the gestation period of an elephant, then. Prem is about to object. But instead, he laughs. PREM You see? Amidst all this misery, only you can make me laugh. Scornful but hints of melting. NITA All this misery... PREM Her and I- nothing. You have to believe me, baby... Nita turns away. The Floor Manager comes over. FLOOR MANAGER One minute. (CONTINUED) 27. 39 CONTINUED: 39 Prem slings himself in a chair. PREM No. I'm not going on. NITA Prem... PREM I can't. Without you, it's all pointless. Clicks his fingers at the Floor Manager. PREM (CONT'D) You. Tell the Director. Nita shakes her head at the Floor Manager who by now is looking very worried. FLOOR MANAGER Thirty seconds. Prem shrugs and folds his arms. Sees her weaken. NITA Prem... PREM Calypso Bar, private room, just you and me? FLOOR MANAGER Fifteen. NITA (furious) Alright. He grins, jumps up, blows her a kiss, and stalks back on stage. 40 INT. STUDIO. NIGHT. 40 He sits back down, says almost to himself. PREM Steel balls. Turns to Jamal. PREM (CONT'D) Okay, Juhu boy, you've had a good run. Take your Mother to Khandala and eat some chiki. JAMAL My Mother's dead. (CONTINUED) 28. 40 CONTINUED: 40 PREM Well, your girlfriend then. Even better. JAMAL I don't have a girl-friend. PREM Live wire like you? You surprise me. FLOOR MANAGER Five, four... The warm-up man starts the applause. TALKBACK V/O ....three, two, one... Cheering and music. Prem switches on his charm. PREM Welcome back to Who Wants to be a Millionaire! Our contestant, Jamal Malik, Call Centre Assistant- from Mumbai, is on sixteen thousand rupees and has already used one lifeline: Ask the Audience. So, my friend: are you ready for the next question? JAMAL Yes. PREM Then, let's play. Portentous music. The lights dim. PREM (CONT'D) For sixty-four thousand rupees. The British architect Frederick Stevens designed which famous building in India? Is it: A) The Taj Mahal. B) Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus. C) India Gate. D) Howrah Bridge. What do you think, Jamal? Are you one of those tea-boys with a penchant for architecture? 41 INT. CHHATRAPATI SHIVAJI TERMINUS. DAY. 41 Known to everyone as VT station, this monument to Victorian railway architecture is a dangerous place to be at rush hour. (CONTINUED) 29. 41 CONTINUED: 41 Even before the train has stopped, men are jumping from the open doors, or vaulting out of the windows or from the roof of the train to join the tens of thousands of Mumbaites streaming to and from work. A seventeen-year old Jamal squeezes himself out of a train and shoves through the crowds. He checks the time. The digital numerals flick to five O'clock. Looks around the tide of humanity. 42 INT. STUDIO. NIGHT. 42 PREM So, what's it to be? Walk away and this cheque for sixteen thousand rupees is yours. Look, it's even got your name on it. He produces a cheque and waves it at Jamal. JAMAL I don't have a bank account. Laughter from the audience. Prem is momentarily wrong- footed. JAMAL (CONT'D) But I'll take cash. More laughter, this time with Jamal, rather than at him. Prem gets up and starts rummaging theatrically through his jacket pockets and trousers. PREM Nope. Looks like the Producer's stolen my wallet again- JAMAL - I'll play. Nobody was expecting this. Least of all Prem who has to rearrange his features into one of surprised delight. He sits down. PREM You'll play? JAMAL Why not? PREM Well, well, well. We've got a wild one, here. Prem tears up the cheque with theatrical slowness. (CONTINUED) 30. 42 CONTINUED: 42 PREM (CONT'D) For sixty-four thousand rupees, Ladies and Gentlemen, the question once again.... 43 INT. CHHATRAPATI SHIVAJI TERMINUS. DAY. 43 The digital clocks show five fifteen. Shoving the descending river of people out of his way, the eighteen year-old Jamal is forging a path up steps that cross the platforms. He pushes to the middle of the footbridge and leans out on the side railings. He scans the sea of people, desperately. Then he sees her: the eighteen year-old Latika, heart-stoppingly beautiful, over the other side of the station. A world away. She is scanning the crowd, as wired as he is. JAMAL Latika! Latika! But though he is screaming her name, his voice is swallowed by the noise around him. Then he sees two thuggish-looking men also fighting a way towards her. JAMAL (CONT'D) Latika! Frightened now, he fights his way down the steps, one figure against an army of white-robed people. JAMAL (CONT'D) Latika! JAMAL V/O Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus. PREM V/O Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus. Sure? JAMAL V/O I think so. PREM V/O You think so. A brave man, Ladies and Gentlemen, a brave man. 44 INT. CHHATRAPATI SHIVAJI TERMINUS. DAY. 44 The commuters have mostly gone. Jamal is pacing the platform desperately. He stops, stares blankly at the statue in front of him- a proud, rather pompous figure in a Victorian frock coat. The plaque reads: Frederick Stevens. 31. 45 INT. INSPECTOR'S OFFICE. NIGHT. 45 The Inspector, Srinivas and Jamal are staring at the video recorder. JAMAL Yes. Final answer. Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus. PREM Is the right answer! Sixty-four thousand rupees to you, Sir! Applause and music. The Inspector presses pause. Stares at Jamal. INSPECTOR And did she come back? Jamal smiles sadly. JAMAL I wouldn't be here if she had. INSPECTOR Pretty was she? Jamal stares down at his feet. INSPECTOR (CONT'D) Guess not. Right in the eyes. JAMAL The most beautiful woman in the world. Constable Srinivas snorts. Suddenly, Jamal is out of his chair and at Srinivas' throat. The combined force of the Inspector and Srinivas force him roughly back down. He is again handcuffed to the chair. INSPECTOR OF POLICE Well, well. The slum dog barks. Money or women. The reason for most mistakes in life. Looks like you got mixed up with both. Srinivas, you need the exercise: a trip to VT Station to check on the statue. And lock your bloody bike up. Constable Srinivas swears under his breath but bumbles out. (CONTINUED) 32. 45 CONTINUED: 45 INSPECTOR That's the chutiy out the way. Now, man to man. How did you know all the answers? JAMAL If I knew, I'd tell you. 46 OMITTED 46 47 OMITTED 47 48 INT. STUDIO. NIGHT. 48 PREM Now we're into the serious money. For two hundred and fifty thousand rupees, ladies and gentlemen, a quarter of a million rupees...the song Chalo Ri Murali was written by which famous Indian poet. Was it A) Surdas. B) Tulsidas. C) Mira Bai. D) Kabir. Remember you still have two lifelines- fifty- fifty and Phone A Friend. Tempted to use one? JAMAL No. PREM No? JAMAL I know this one. PREM Oh. I see. An expert on the poets, huh? The lights dim, the music swells and Prem presses his computer. 49 EXT. MUMBAI STREET. NIGHT. 49 Jamal is studying a piece of paper and reading out numbers from it. There is something not quite right about Jamal- perhaps the fact that there are two feet by his ears. Salim is standing on his shoulders and spraying the numbers on a wall with an aerosol and a certain lack of confidence. (CONTINUED) 33. 49 CONTINUED: 49 JAMAL Four, nine, zero, nine- the one with the stick going down, Salim- six- stick going up- Latika's head appears from around the corner. LATIKA (whispered) Oi! But they don't hear. Then she is running for her life past the pair of them. JAMAL Six, one, shit, let's go- Salim collapses off Jamal's shoulders and all three run off down an alley past a dozen of the gang's sprayed-on adverts all reading: "Beanbags- 989 4909661". A fat Security Guard with a long stick huffs round the corner. Chases them up an alley. Nowhere to go except through an imposing gate that clearly leads to a private house. SECURITY GUARD Got you now, little shits. 50 EXT. GARDEN. NIGHT. 50 They charge across the lawn, down one side of the house where all the washing is hanging. The Guard gets caught up in drying sheets, towels. He fights his way through to see Salim, Latika and Jamal leaping over the wall to safety. But Jamal turns, jumps back and grabs a girl's dress from the line. SECURITY GUARD Aha! Little thief! The Security Guard lands a couple of blows on Jamal's back as he dodges around him and back across the lawn, dress in hand. The Security Guard gives up. SECURITY GUARD (CONT'D) Pervert! 51 INT. ALLEY. NIGHT. 51 Jamal is examing the bruises on his legs. SALIM Useless bloody look-out. What good is she, huh? (CONTINUED) 34. 51 CONTINUED: 51 LATIKA (infuriated) I tried to warn you. JAMAL It's okay, Salim. Latika slips on the dress. Spins. Both of them look up. Stare. She pulls her hair back, smiles, is transformed into a beautiful girl. 52 EXT. GORAI BEACH DUMPING GROUND. DAY. 52 Blazing sun. Diggers and trucks are shifting mounds of rubble on a rubbish dump that seems to stretch for ever. Oblivious to the dust kicked up by the trucks, Latika is picking up old plastic bags, examining each one and putting the less worn in a big sack. The dress is recognisable but dusty and torn. She stoops to dig another bag out of the dirt, but stops and stares. Shimmering in the heat, a rickety pick-up truck comes through the rubbish dump gates. Toots at the Guard who waves, pulls up in the dump. "Hope Orphanage is written on the side of the van. A man gets out. Looks around. 53 INT. `TENT'. DAY. 53 Under sheets of plastic propped up on sticks, Jamal and Salim are sleeping out the hottest part of the day. Jamal wakes to see a figure standing over him- a silhouette with a halo of sun behind him. Out of his bag, the man produces a bottle of Thumbs Up. He uncaps it with an alluring hiss. It is almost an advert for thirst-quenching affluence. Almost instinctively, Salim and Jamal stir. MAN Hello. He hands the bottle to Salim, gets another from his bag and waves it questioningly at Jamal. MAN (CONT'D) Hot, huh? My name is Maman. 54 EXT. ORPHANAGE. EVENING. 54 The hills on the edge of Bombay. Greenery and space, for the first time in the film. The pick-up truck pulls up outside a building with Jamal, Salim and Latika sitting on a bench in the back. Maman gets out. Drops the gate on the back of the pick-up. MAMAN Anyone hungry? Come on in. 35. 55 INT. ORPHANAGE COURTYARD. EVENING. 55 Twenty children are eating at long benches in a ramshackle courtyard. Maman, ushers Jamal, Salim and Latika in and sits them down at one of the benches. He waves a hand and a giant man, Punnoose, comes over with a big bowl of food. The three tear into it. Cleaning every last morsel of rice from his plate, Jamal looks up and notices a table peopled entirely with blind or crippled children. Some of the legless are eating on the floor next to the table. Jamal leans over to Salim. JAMAL He must be a very good man to look after these people. SALIM (glancing at them) A saint. Arvind, a boy smaller than either Jamal or Salim overhears. ARVIND We're not allowed to talk to them. LATIKA Why not? Arvind shrugs. Latika licks her plate, glances at Maman who is looking right at them. LATIKA (CONT'D) Well, if there are seconds, Maman is definitely a Saint. As if telepathic, Maman signals to Punnoose and he brings a large bowl of rice and dhal over to them. Latika looks at Jamal and Salim. They burst out laughing. LATIKA (CONT'D) I tell you, Lord Siva is with us. 56 INT. ORPHANAGE. EVENING. 56 Salim, Latika, Jamal and a group of children are standing in a line singing a doha- ancient lyrics set to music. Maman is leading the singing, walking up and down the line listening to each one individually. He stops at one small boy, Arvind, and listens. Nods his head, pleased, and continues down the line until he stops in front of Jamal. Holds up his hand. MAMAN Stop! You. Again. (CONTINUED) 36. 56 CONTINUED: 56 Jamal starts singing again. He has the sweetest of voices. Untrained but pure. Maman smiles, ruffles Jamal's hair, impressed. MAMAN (CONT'D) Everyone. They all join in. Maman continues down the line. He stops at Salim whose octave-slipping singing is lusty and appallingly out of tune. Maman winces and moves on. Standing next to Salim, Latika giggles. Immediately, Salim is on her. Before a fight breaks out, Punnoose pulls Salim off Latika and hurls him across the room. Salim gets up and charges at Punnoose. For a second, Punnoose is back-footed, but then pins Salim's arms to his side. Maman laughs. Approaches Salim. MAMAN (CONT'D) You sing like one, and you fight like one. I think you've found your dog, Punnoose. 57 EXT. CENTRAL MUMBAI TRAFFIC. DAY. 57 A group of children are sitting in the jumble of concrete under a motorway flyover. Cars surround them, bumper to bumper. Latika and Jamal are playing an improvised hopscotch on concrete slabs. They are giggling, bumping into each other, tickling, laughing. Salim and Punnoose are sitting together, smoking. Salim is staring hard at Jamal and Latika until Punnoose grunts, a sign for Salim to clap his hands. SALIM Okay, let's go, let's go! It's not a bloody holiday! The children get to their feet. Latika sighs, puts a patch over her eye and grabs a pair of crutches. Suddenly, the lame beggar. Salim goes over to one of the girls, who is carrying a sleeping baby. Puts out his hand. SALIM (CONT'D) Give me that. The girl shakes her head. Salim grabs her by the hair in one hand and takes the baby with the other. He shoves her to the ground. The other children stare. JAMAL Hey, Salim! He challenges Jamal. SALIM What, chot bhai? You got a problem? (CONTINUED) 37. 57 CONTINUED: 57 He laughs and walks over to Latika. SALIM (CONT'D) Here. For you. LATIKA I don't want it. SALIM You'll earn double. I'm doing you a favour, Latika. JAMAL She doesn't want it. SALIM Chup, Jamal. Latika turns away and begins to walk towards the cars. SALIM (CONT'D) I'll drop it. He holds the baby up. Latika grabs the baby with a cry just as Salim releases it from his hands. Salim pinches the baby. SALIM (CONT'D) Triple if it's crying. Latika snatches it away. Salim laughs, goes back to sitting with Punnoose. The children scatter to the cars trapped at the lights, tapping plaintively on the windows and making the universal begging gesture. 58 INT. ORPHANAGE. KITCHEN. NIGHT. 58 Surrounded by beer bottles, Punnoose is slumped asleep by the kitchen door. Latika edges past, avoids the cook sleeping under the table and goes to a shelf laden with vegetables. She pulls down a bunch of chillies still on the vine, strips a few off and tip-toes out with them. 59 INT. ORPHANAGE. DORMITORY. NIGHT. 59 Sleeping children, three or four to a mattress on the floor. Latika tip-toes around the mattresses. She pauses over one in particular where we see Salim, asleep. She carefully pulls up the sheet, delves underneath. Pleasant dreams cross Salim's sleeping face for a second. Then suddenly, he is bolt upright and screaming. He charges around the room clutching his genitals in agony. SALIM Madher chod...! (CONTINUED) 38. 59 CONTINUED: 59 He sprints out of the room, wailing. 60 INT. ORPHANAGE. SHOWERS. NIGHT. 60 The lights are on and two dozen children are screaming with laughter as Salim stands under the make-shift shower directing the water down his pants to his burning genitals, his face a picture of agony. Latika wipes crushed chillies from her hands. SALIM You're dead, sala. She smiles and walks past Jamal with a shrug. Then Punnoose comes stalking in and the children scatter away. PUNNOOSE Get back to bed, dogs! What the hell... JAMAL V/O They taught me every song in the history of Indian music. INSPECTOR V/O And why would they do that, I wonder? 61 INT. SHACK. NIGHT. 61 In a shack, Arvind is singing one of Surdas' bhajans in front of Maman and an old man who by his ragged appearance must be a villager. Punnoose and Salim sit behind Arvind. MAMAN Very good, very good. I am pleased, Arvind. He is ready. ARVIND Ready? Maman nods to Punnoose. Before Arvind can turn round, Punnoose has covered his mouth with a cloth and after the briefest of struggles, Arvind's body goes limp. The villager puts an old tin box on the table. Taking the lid from the tin, he brings out a cloth and unwraps it. Inside is a spoon. He checks the edge with his thumb. Sharp. Douses it with a clear liquid from a bottle and passes it over a candle flame. The spoon whooshes with a high flame for a moment. The villager wipes it with the cloth nods to Punnoose. PUNNOOSE Salim! (CONTINUED) 39. 61 CONTINUED: 61 Utterly bemused, Salim nevertheless helps Punnoose lay Arvind on the table. The villager takes hold of Arvind's eyelid and pulls it open. He brings the spoon close. Suddenly, Salim is being sick in the corner of the shack. By the time he has turned back, the villager is wiping the spoon on a blood-soaked rag. MAMAN Okay. Take him out the back. Punnoose picks up Arvind and carries him out. MAMAN (CONT'D) Now the other one. Salim, go get Jamal. A frozen moment. SALIM What? MAMAN Gunfighter Number One, isn't that right, Salim? The money, the women, the cars...you want them bad, huh? And why not? Maman gets out of his chair. Approaches Salim. MAMAN (CONT'D) The time has come to choose, yaar. The life of a slum dog or the life of a man. A real man. A gunfighter, Salim. Maman holds Salim's head in his hands. MAMAN (CONT'D) Your destiny is in your hands, bhai. You can be me. Or nobody. Understand? SALIM Yes, Maman. Maman nods. MAMAN So, brother, go get Jamal. Salim is frozen for another few seconds, then turns and walks out of the door. Punnoose appears at the door. Maman nods to him and he slips off after Salim. 62 INT. DORMITORY, ORPHANAGE. NIGHT. 62 All the children are asleep apart from Jamal who is crouched underneath a couple of wash-basins. (CONTINUED) 40. 62 CONTINUED: 62 He is talking through a plate-sized hole in the crumbling masonry. Latika's eyes can be seen. JAMAL ...weddings, government things, big parties. If Maman says my voice is ready. Big money. LATIKA Enough for a room? JAMAL Easily. Maybe an apartment. LATIKA Really? JAMAL That's what Arvind said. On Harbour Road. You, me and Salim. The three musketeers. LATIKA Harbour Road! We can have ice cream from Babanji's. JAMAL Every day if we want. Salim appears at the door. Nods his head at Jamal. JAMAL (CONT'D) It's my turn. LATIKA Good luck, Jamal. Latika's hand comes through the gap. Jamal takes it for a moment. Salim hisses at Jamal. He lets go of the hand and heads out. 63 EXT. PATH. NIGHT. 63 Salim and Jamal walk along the path, Jamal humming happily. Salim checks behind him, sees Punnoose following. JAMAL So, this is it, hey, bhai? The good life, here we come.... SALIM (conversationally) Athos. Jamal is suddenly alert. Slows (CONTINUED) 41. 63 CONTINUED: 63 JAMAL Porthos? Salim nods. Big smile. Puts a hand on Jamal's shoulder. SALIM When I say. 64 INT. SHACK. NIGHT. 64 Salim guides Jamal into the shack where Maman and the Villager are waiting. Maman smiles. Punnoose slips in behind Salim. MAMAN Jamal, hello. You have done well. It's time for you to- turn professional. JAMAL Really? MAMAN Sing me a song, yaar. How about Chalo Ri Murali, huh? My favourite. Jamal opens his mouth, then closes it again. Holds out his hand. JAMAL Fifty rupees. MAMAN What? JAMAL (shrugs) I've turned professional. What can I do? Maman laughs. MAMAN Sala...! He throws some notes at him. 65 EXT. SHACK. NIGHT. 65 Outside, a giggle. Latika is peering through a gap in the wall. 42. 66 INT. SHACK. NIGHT. 66 Jamal begins to sing. Maman waits a while, then nods to Punnoose. Behind Jamal, Punnoose hands Salim the bottle of chloroform and the rag. Salim approaches the back of Jamal. Salim waits until he has finished the song. Raises his hand with the rag in it. Maman smiles, nods. Salim flings the contents of the bottle in Punnoose's face. Punnoose screams and stumbles back clutching his eyes, knocking over the table. SALIM Go! Salim and Jamal scramble for the door. The knocked-over candle catches the spilled chloroform and a curtain which whooshes up in flame. LATIKA Jamal! JAMAL Run! 66A EXT. SHACK. NIGHT. 66A They charge past the prone Arvind- a flash of bloodied bandages covering his eyes. 67 EXT. HILLSIDE. NIGHT. 67 Heavy, desperate breathing. Feet stumble on roots. Fall into holes. The three children are running. Branches smack into their faces. But they are so scared, nothing will stop them. Behind them, torches scour the undergrowth. Men shouting. They break out of the woods and are confronted with a train goods yard. 68 EXT. GOODS YARD. NIGHT. 68 They run over the tracks, between the trains, but the shouts are getting louder, the torches closer. A diesel engine is moving out of the station. Jamal, Latika and Salim sprint for the Guard's Van at the very back of the moving train. Punnoose is closest to them. Salim is fastest and first to jump the train. He holds out his hand. Jamal grabs it and is hauled in. Jamal holds his hand out to Latika. JAMAL Come on! Faster! She reaches out to him. Their hands almost touch. (CONTINUED) 43. 68 CONTINUED: 68 JAMAL (CONT'D) Take it! Take it! I can't reach... Salim barges Jamal out of the way. Jamal stumbles back as Salim reaches his hand out to Latika, so he doesn't see Latika's hand grasp Salim's, nor see their eyes lock onto each other, nor see Salim very deliberately let go of her hand. Latika stumbles. LATIKA Jamal! Jamal scrambles to the rail. The train gains more speed. Jamal climbs on to the top rung, makes to jump, but Salim flings him backward. Jamal tries to scramble to his feet again, but Salim restrains him. JAMAL Got to go back. We've got to go back. SALIM He'll kill us if we go back. Jamal! He was going to take your eyes out- with a bloody spoon! The train is speeding along. Jamal breaks free and stares back at Latika. SALIM (CONT'D) She'll be alright. She always is. Latika stumbles again and stops running. They watch as Punnoose catches up with her and stops running. He smashes Latika to the ground. 69 INT. STUDIO. NIGHT. 69 PREM The question was, for two hundred and fifty thousand rupees: who wrote the famous song Chalo Ri Murali. I should warn you, Jamal: from this question on, if you get the answer wrong you lose everything. So. Are you sure? The life-lines are there.... JAMAL Surdas. PREM Surdas. Apka final jawab? (CONTINUED) 44. 69 CONTINUED: 69 JAMAL Yes. PREM Computer-ji, A lock kiya-jaye. The lights dim, the music swells. Prem presses a button on his computer: looks him straight in the eyes for an age. PREM (CONT'D) (simply) Guess what? You're right. Applause, music, lights. 70 INT. INSPECTOR'S OFFICE. DAY. 70 The Inspector is eying Jamal, weighing it all up. JAMAL (shrugging) Blind singers earn double. You know that. INSPECTOR And what happened to the girl? They blinded her too? JAMAL (shakes his head) They had other plans. Though it took me a long, long time to find out. 71 EXT. TRAIN. MORNING. 71 Salim and Jamal are sitting on top of the train. Jamal is staring blankly down the track. SALIM Ar , Jamal... Salim puts an arm around Jamal's shoulder. Jamal wipes the tears from his eyes, shakes his head furiously. Salim gets up. Holds out his hand. SALIM (CONT'D) Come. JAMAL Where you going? SALIM First class, bhai. Where else? 45.

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How many times the word 'shit' appears in the text?

to a colleague. Puts out his cigarette with purpose. JAMAL Let's go, bhai. Salim and Jamal run. The girl follows. 22. 33 EXT. MUMBAI. EVENING. 33 Salim and Jamal stand on a hill overlooking the city. Black smoke billows from a large area that is clearly the Juhu slum. Standing a little way off is the girl. JAMAL We should go back. Silence. JAMAL (CONT'D) See if Ama- Salim shakes his head fiercely, silencing Jamal for a moment. But only a moment. JAMAL (CONT'D) What about Jeevan Chacha? Salim shakes his head. JAMAL (CONT'D) Maybe he- Salim shakes his head again. SALIM - I saw him. He was with them. JAMAL But he wouldn't hurt- SALIM - he was with them! JAMAL But- SALIM - shut up, Jamal, can't you? Just shut up! Salim turns away and sees the girl. Picks up a rock and hurls it at her. She dodges, takes a couple of steps back but makes no real attempt to get away. He finds another rock and hurls this in her direction too. SALIM (CONT'D) Ja! Then a flash of lightning and thunder rumbles across the city. Rain begins to come down. JAMAL What shall we do? (CONTINUED) 23. 33 CONTINUED: 33 No answer. Jamal sits down. Salim sits down. At a distance, the girl sits down. Rain pours down their faces. 34 INT. BUILDER'S YARD. NIGHT. 34 Rain as you've never seen. A pile of huge water pipes in a sprawling builder's yard. Jamal is in one pipe, Salim above him in another. They are both soaked, shivering, but have found some plastic sheet to wrap themselves in. Outside, thirty feet away, stands the girl. Staring. Salim hisses angrily at the girl. SALIM Go away. Ja, ja! The girl might not even have heard. SALIM (CONT'D) She'll have the Security Guard onto us, standing there. JAMAL Not if we let her in. SALIM No. JAMAL She could be the third musketeer. SALIM I am the head of this family, now. And I say no. Piss off, you. Salim huddles down in the pipe. After a while, Jamal follows suit. SALIM (CONT'D) We don't even know what the third musketeer's called. 35 EXT. JUHU SLUM. DAY 35 A flash of Jamal's mother being clubbed to the ground. Her scream. 36 INT. BUILDER'S YARD. LATER. 36 Jamal wakes with a jolt and a scream half-swallowed in his mouth. He shuts his eyes tight, trying to force the image out. His breathing slows and he sees the girl staring at him. Salim, too, is staring into nothing. The rain is still falling. (CONTINUED) 24. 36 CONTINUED: 36 The girl goes back to drawing shapes in the mud with her finger. Jamal climbs out of the pipe. Looks at Salim for permission or refusal, but he just continues to stare. So, Jamal walks across to her. She looks up, wary. JAMAL Where's your Mother? Silence. JAMAL (CONT'D) Father? The girl shakes her head slightly. Jamal takes the plastic sheet from around his shoulders. Gives it to her. JAMAL (CONT'D) I'm Jamal. He's Salim. LATIKA Latika. Jamal goes back to his water pipe, climbs in. Watches her huddled under the sheet. Sighs, motions for her to join him. She darts across, jumps into the water pipe and huddles up next to Jamal. 37 INT. INSPECTOR'S OFFICE. DAY. 37 Jamal looks at the Inspector. JAMAL I wake up every morning wishing I didn't know the answer to that question? If it wasn't for Ram and Allah, I would still have a Mother. 38 INT. STUDIO. NIGHT 38 JAMAL D) A bow and arrow. PREM Final answer? JAMAL Final answer. Prem stares at him for dramatic effect. Presses his computer. PREM Computer-ji, D lock kiya-jaye. (CONTINUED) 25. 38 CONTINUED: 38 The lights dim, the music swells. PREM (CONT'D) Jamal Malik, you answered D? Ram is depicted with a bow and arrow in his hand. And guess what? You've just won sixteen thousand rupees! Well done, my friend. Time for a commercial break- don't go away, now. Music, applause. Prem switches off his professional smile. Gets up. PREM (CONT'D) Got lucky, huh? I'd take the money. You'll never get the next one. JAMAL You're from the Juhu slum, aren't you? PREM Hmm? Sure. Know where I live now, kid? Pali Hill. Twelve bedrooms, a/c in every room, two kitchens, a gym and a screening room. Steel balls is what it takes, my friend, steel balls. The Floor Manager comes over and gives his head-phones set to Prem. Prem listens. DIRECTOR V/O Prem? Tone it down, for goodness sake. You're making him a laughing stock. Prem glances up at the gallery with contempt. PREM We're having fun here. They love it...Where the hell do you get them from? He makes no attempt to hide the conversation from Jamal. DIRECTOR V/O It's supposed to be a quiz show, not a blood sport. FLOOR MANAGER Two minutes. (CONTINUED) 26. 38 CONTINUED: (2) 38 PREM Stop wetting your pants. I'll be a good little boy with the next one. Promise. He chucks the head-phones back at the Floor Manager. Glances in the wings. Sees Nita, the make-up woman. Gets up and goes over. 39 INT. STUDIO. BACKSTAGE. NIGHT. 39 In the half-light, backstage, Nita dabs his face with powder. PREM Meet me after the show. Please. NITA No. PREM Nita, I can explain. NITA No need. I read it in bloody Stardust. Didn't even have the balls to tell me. "Prem's happiness with another baby on the way". After everything you said... PREM Baby, it all happened before I met you. I swear to you. NITA She's got the gestation period of an elephant, then. Prem is about to object. But instead, he laughs. PREM You see? Amidst all this misery, only you can make me laugh. Scornful but hints of melting. NITA All this misery... PREM Her and I- nothing. You have to believe me, baby... Nita turns away. The Floor Manager comes over. FLOOR MANAGER One minute. (CONTINUED) 27. 39 CONTINUED: 39 Prem slings himself in a chair. PREM No. I'm not going on. NITA Prem... PREM I can't. Without you, it's all pointless. Clicks his fingers at the Floor Manager. PREM (CONT'D) You. Tell the Director. Nita shakes her head at the Floor Manager who by now is looking very worried. FLOOR MANAGER Thirty seconds. Prem shrugs and folds his arms. Sees her weaken. NITA Prem... PREM Calypso Bar, private room, just you and me? FLOOR MANAGER Fifteen. NITA (furious) Alright. He grins, jumps up, blows her a kiss, and stalks back on stage. 40 INT. STUDIO. NIGHT. 40 He sits back down, says almost to himself. PREM Steel balls. Turns to Jamal. PREM (CONT'D) Okay, Juhu boy, you've had a good run. Take your Mother to Khandala and eat some chiki. JAMAL My Mother's dead. (CONTINUED) 28. 40 CONTINUED: 40 PREM Well, your girlfriend then. Even better. JAMAL I don't have a girl-friend. PREM Live wire like you? You surprise me. FLOOR MANAGER Five, four... The warm-up man starts the applause. TALKBACK V/O ....three, two, one... Cheering and music. Prem switches on his charm. PREM Welcome back to Who Wants to be a Millionaire! Our contestant, Jamal Malik, Call Centre Assistant- from Mumbai, is on sixteen thousand rupees and has already used one lifeline: Ask the Audience. So, my friend: are you ready for the next question? JAMAL Yes. PREM Then, let's play. Portentous music. The lights dim. PREM (CONT'D) For sixty-four thousand rupees. The British architect Frederick Stevens designed which famous building in India? Is it: A) The Taj Mahal. B) Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus. C) India Gate. D) Howrah Bridge. What do you think, Jamal? Are you one of those tea-boys with a penchant for architecture? 41 INT. CHHATRAPATI SHIVAJI TERMINUS. DAY. 41 Known to everyone as VT station, this monument to Victorian railway architecture is a dangerous place to be at rush hour. (CONTINUED) 29. 41 CONTINUED: 41 Even before the train has stopped, men are jumping from the open doors, or vaulting out of the windows or from the roof of the train to join the tens of thousands of Mumbaites streaming to and from work. A seventeen-year old Jamal squeezes himself out of a train and shoves through the crowds. He checks the time. The digital numerals flick to five O'clock. Looks around the tide of humanity. 42 INT. STUDIO. NIGHT. 42 PREM So, what's it to be? Walk away and this cheque for sixteen thousand rupees is yours. Look, it's even got your name on it. He produces a cheque and waves it at Jamal. JAMAL I don't have a bank account. Laughter from the audience. Prem is momentarily wrong- footed. JAMAL (CONT'D) But I'll take cash. More laughter, this time with Jamal, rather than at him. Prem gets up and starts rummaging theatrically through his jacket pockets and trousers. PREM Nope. Looks like the Producer's stolen my wallet again- JAMAL - I'll play. Nobody was expecting this. Least of all Prem who has to rearrange his features into one of surprised delight. He sits down. PREM You'll play? JAMAL Why not? PREM Well, well, well. We've got a wild one, here. Prem tears up the cheque with theatrical slowness. (CONTINUED) 30. 42 CONTINUED: 42 PREM (CONT'D) For sixty-four thousand rupees, Ladies and Gentlemen, the question once again.... 43 INT. CHHATRAPATI SHIVAJI TERMINUS. DAY. 43 The digital clocks show five fifteen. Shoving the descending river of people out of his way, the eighteen year-old Jamal is forging a path up steps that cross the platforms. He pushes to the middle of the footbridge and leans out on the side railings. He scans the sea of people, desperately. Then he sees her: the eighteen year-old Latika, heart-stoppingly beautiful, over the other side of the station. A world away. She is scanning the crowd, as wired as he is. JAMAL Latika! Latika! But though he is screaming her name, his voice is swallowed by the noise around him. Then he sees two thuggish-looking men also fighting a way towards her. JAMAL (CONT'D) Latika! Frightened now, he fights his way down the steps, one figure against an army of white-robed people. JAMAL (CONT'D) Latika! JAMAL V/O Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus. PREM V/O Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus. Sure? JAMAL V/O I think so. PREM V/O You think so. A brave man, Ladies and Gentlemen, a brave man. 44 INT. CHHATRAPATI SHIVAJI TERMINUS. DAY. 44 The commuters have mostly gone. Jamal is pacing the platform desperately. He stops, stares blankly at the statue in front of him- a proud, rather pompous figure in a Victorian frock coat. The plaque reads: Frederick Stevens. 31. 45 INT. INSPECTOR'S OFFICE. NIGHT. 45 The Inspector, Srinivas and Jamal are staring at the video recorder. JAMAL Yes. Final answer. Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus. PREM Is the right answer! Sixty-four thousand rupees to you, Sir! Applause and music. The Inspector presses pause. Stares at Jamal. INSPECTOR And did she come back? Jamal smiles sadly. JAMAL I wouldn't be here if she had. INSPECTOR Pretty was she? Jamal stares down at his feet. INSPECTOR (CONT'D) Guess not. Right in the eyes. JAMAL The most beautiful woman in the world. Constable Srinivas snorts. Suddenly, Jamal is out of his chair and at Srinivas' throat. The combined force of the Inspector and Srinivas force him roughly back down. He is again handcuffed to the chair. INSPECTOR OF POLICE Well, well. The slum dog barks. Money or women. The reason for most mistakes in life. Looks like you got mixed up with both. Srinivas, you need the exercise: a trip to VT Station to check on the statue. And lock your bloody bike up. Constable Srinivas swears under his breath but bumbles out. (CONTINUED) 32. 45 CONTINUED: 45 INSPECTOR That's the chutiy out the way. Now, man to man. How did you know all the answers? JAMAL If I knew, I'd tell you. 46 OMITTED 46 47 OMITTED 47 48 INT. STUDIO. NIGHT. 48 PREM Now we're into the serious money. For two hundred and fifty thousand rupees, ladies and gentlemen, a quarter of a million rupees...the song Chalo Ri Murali was written by which famous Indian poet. Was it A) Surdas. B) Tulsidas. C) Mira Bai. D) Kabir. Remember you still have two lifelines- fifty- fifty and Phone A Friend. Tempted to use one? JAMAL No. PREM No? JAMAL I know this one. PREM Oh. I see. An expert on the poets, huh? The lights dim, the music swells and Prem presses his computer. 49 EXT. MUMBAI STREET. NIGHT. 49 Jamal is studying a piece of paper and reading out numbers from it. There is something not quite right about Jamal- perhaps the fact that there are two feet by his ears. Salim is standing on his shoulders and spraying the numbers on a wall with an aerosol and a certain lack of confidence. (CONTINUED) 33. 49 CONTINUED: 49 JAMAL Four, nine, zero, nine- the one with the stick going down, Salim- six- stick going up- Latika's head appears from around the corner. LATIKA (whispered) Oi! But they don't hear. Then she is running for her life past the pair of them. JAMAL Six, one, shit, let's go- Salim collapses off Jamal's shoulders and all three run off down an alley past a dozen of the gang's sprayed-on adverts all reading: "Beanbags- 989 4909661". A fat Security Guard with a long stick huffs round the corner. Chases them up an alley. Nowhere to go except through an imposing gate that clearly leads to a private house. SECURITY GUARD Got you now, little shits. 50 EXT. GARDEN. NIGHT. 50 They charge across the lawn, down one side of the house where all the washing is hanging. The Guard gets caught up in drying sheets, towels. He fights his way through to see Salim, Latika and Jamal leaping over the wall to safety. But Jamal turns, jumps back and grabs a girl's dress from the line. SECURITY GUARD Aha! Little thief! The Security Guard lands a couple of blows on Jamal's back as he dodges around him and back across the lawn, dress in hand. The Security Guard gives up. SECURITY GUARD (CONT'D) Pervert! 51 INT. ALLEY. NIGHT. 51 Jamal is examing the bruises on his legs. SALIM Useless bloody look-out. What good is she, huh? (CONTINUED) 34. 51 CONTINUED: 51 LATIKA (infuriated) I tried to warn you. JAMAL It's okay, Salim. Latika slips on the dress. Spins. Both of them look up. Stare. She pulls her hair back, smiles, is transformed into a beautiful girl. 52 EXT. GORAI BEACH DUMPING GROUND. DAY. 52 Blazing sun. Diggers and trucks are shifting mounds of rubble on a rubbish dump that seems to stretch for ever. Oblivious to the dust kicked up by the trucks, Latika is picking up old plastic bags, examining each one and putting the less worn in a big sack. The dress is recognisable but dusty and torn. She stoops to dig another bag out of the dirt, but stops and stares. Shimmering in the heat, a rickety pick-up truck comes through the rubbish dump gates. Toots at the Guard who waves, pulls up in the dump. "Hope Orphanage is written on the side of the van. A man gets out. Looks around. 53 INT. `TENT'. DAY. 53 Under sheets of plastic propped up on sticks, Jamal and Salim are sleeping out the hottest part of the day. Jamal wakes to see a figure standing over him- a silhouette with a halo of sun behind him. Out of his bag, the man produces a bottle of Thumbs Up. He uncaps it with an alluring hiss. It is almost an advert for thirst-quenching affluence. Almost instinctively, Salim and Jamal stir. MAN Hello. He hands the bottle to Salim, gets another from his bag and waves it questioningly at Jamal. MAN (CONT'D) Hot, huh? My name is Maman. 54 EXT. ORPHANAGE. EVENING. 54 The hills on the edge of Bombay. Greenery and space, for the first time in the film. The pick-up truck pulls up outside a building with Jamal, Salim and Latika sitting on a bench in the back. Maman gets out. Drops the gate on the back of the pick-up. MAMAN Anyone hungry? Come on in. 35. 55 INT. ORPHANAGE COURTYARD. EVENING. 55 Twenty children are eating at long benches in a ramshackle courtyard. Maman, ushers Jamal, Salim and Latika in and sits them down at one of the benches. He waves a hand and a giant man, Punnoose, comes over with a big bowl of food. The three tear into it. Cleaning every last morsel of rice from his plate, Jamal looks up and notices a table peopled entirely with blind or crippled children. Some of the legless are eating on the floor next to the table. Jamal leans over to Salim. JAMAL He must be a very good man to look after these people. SALIM (glancing at them) A saint. Arvind, a boy smaller than either Jamal or Salim overhears. ARVIND We're not allowed to talk to them. LATIKA Why not? Arvind shrugs. Latika licks her plate, glances at Maman who is looking right at them. LATIKA (CONT'D) Well, if there are seconds, Maman is definitely a Saint. As if telepathic, Maman signals to Punnoose and he brings a large bowl of rice and dhal over to them. Latika looks at Jamal and Salim. They burst out laughing. LATIKA (CONT'D) I tell you, Lord Siva is with us. 56 INT. ORPHANAGE. EVENING. 56 Salim, Latika, Jamal and a group of children are standing in a line singing a doha- ancient lyrics set to music. Maman is leading the singing, walking up and down the line listening to each one individually. He stops at one small boy, Arvind, and listens. Nods his head, pleased, and continues down the line until he stops in front of Jamal. Holds up his hand. MAMAN Stop! You. Again. (CONTINUED) 36. 56 CONTINUED: 56 Jamal starts singing again. He has the sweetest of voices. Untrained but pure. Maman smiles, ruffles Jamal's hair, impressed. MAMAN (CONT'D) Everyone. They all join in. Maman continues down the line. He stops at Salim whose octave-slipping singing is lusty and appallingly out of tune. Maman winces and moves on. Standing next to Salim, Latika giggles. Immediately, Salim is on her. Before a fight breaks out, Punnoose pulls Salim off Latika and hurls him across the room. Salim gets up and charges at Punnoose. For a second, Punnoose is back-footed, but then pins Salim's arms to his side. Maman laughs. Approaches Salim. MAMAN (CONT'D) You sing like one, and you fight like one. I think you've found your dog, Punnoose. 57 EXT. CENTRAL MUMBAI TRAFFIC. DAY. 57 A group of children are sitting in the jumble of concrete under a motorway flyover. Cars surround them, bumper to bumper. Latika and Jamal are playing an improvised hopscotch on concrete slabs. They are giggling, bumping into each other, tickling, laughing. Salim and Punnoose are sitting together, smoking. Salim is staring hard at Jamal and Latika until Punnoose grunts, a sign for Salim to clap his hands. SALIM Okay, let's go, let's go! It's not a bloody holiday! The children get to their feet. Latika sighs, puts a patch over her eye and grabs a pair of crutches. Suddenly, the lame beggar. Salim goes over to one of the girls, who is carrying a sleeping baby. Puts out his hand. SALIM (CONT'D) Give me that. The girl shakes her head. Salim grabs her by the hair in one hand and takes the baby with the other. He shoves her to the ground. The other children stare. JAMAL Hey, Salim! He challenges Jamal. SALIM What, chot bhai? You got a problem? (CONTINUED) 37. 57 CONTINUED: 57 He laughs and walks over to Latika. SALIM (CONT'D) Here. For you. LATIKA I don't want it. SALIM You'll earn double. I'm doing you a favour, Latika. JAMAL She doesn't want it. SALIM Chup, Jamal. Latika turns away and begins to walk towards the cars. SALIM (CONT'D) I'll drop it. He holds the baby up. Latika grabs the baby with a cry just as Salim releases it from his hands. Salim pinches the baby. SALIM (CONT'D) Triple if it's crying. Latika snatches it away. Salim laughs, goes back to sitting with Punnoose. The children scatter to the cars trapped at the lights, tapping plaintively on the windows and making the universal begging gesture. 58 INT. ORPHANAGE. KITCHEN. NIGHT. 58 Surrounded by beer bottles, Punnoose is slumped asleep by the kitchen door. Latika edges past, avoids the cook sleeping under the table and goes to a shelf laden with vegetables. She pulls down a bunch of chillies still on the vine, strips a few off and tip-toes out with them. 59 INT. ORPHANAGE. DORMITORY. NIGHT. 59 Sleeping children, three or four to a mattress on the floor. Latika tip-toes around the mattresses. She pauses over one in particular where we see Salim, asleep. She carefully pulls up the sheet, delves underneath. Pleasant dreams cross Salim's sleeping face for a second. Then suddenly, he is bolt upright and screaming. He charges around the room clutching his genitals in agony. SALIM Madher chod...! (CONTINUED) 38. 59 CONTINUED: 59 He sprints out of the room, wailing. 60 INT. ORPHANAGE. SHOWERS. NIGHT. 60 The lights are on and two dozen children are screaming with laughter as Salim stands under the make-shift shower directing the water down his pants to his burning genitals, his face a picture of agony. Latika wipes crushed chillies from her hands. SALIM You're dead, sala. She smiles and walks past Jamal with a shrug. Then Punnoose comes stalking in and the children scatter away. PUNNOOSE Get back to bed, dogs! What the hell... JAMAL V/O They taught me every song in the history of Indian music. INSPECTOR V/O And why would they do that, I wonder? 61 INT. SHACK. NIGHT. 61 In a shack, Arvind is singing one of Surdas' bhajans in front of Maman and an old man who by his ragged appearance must be a villager. Punnoose and Salim sit behind Arvind. MAMAN Very good, very good. I am pleased, Arvind. He is ready. ARVIND Ready? Maman nods to Punnoose. Before Arvind can turn round, Punnoose has covered his mouth with a cloth and after the briefest of struggles, Arvind's body goes limp. The villager puts an old tin box on the table. Taking the lid from the tin, he brings out a cloth and unwraps it. Inside is a spoon. He checks the edge with his thumb. Sharp. Douses it with a clear liquid from a bottle and passes it over a candle flame. The spoon whooshes with a high flame for a moment. The villager wipes it with the cloth nods to Punnoose. PUNNOOSE Salim! (CONTINUED) 39. 61 CONTINUED: 61 Utterly bemused, Salim nevertheless helps Punnoose lay Arvind on the table. The villager takes hold of Arvind's eyelid and pulls it open. He brings the spoon close. Suddenly, Salim is being sick in the corner of the shack. By the time he has turned back, the villager is wiping the spoon on a blood-soaked rag. MAMAN Okay. Take him out the back. Punnoose picks up Arvind and carries him out. MAMAN (CONT'D) Now the other one. Salim, go get Jamal. A frozen moment. SALIM What? MAMAN Gunfighter Number One, isn't that right, Salim? The money, the women, the cars...you want them bad, huh? And why not? Maman gets out of his chair. Approaches Salim. MAMAN (CONT'D) The time has come to choose, yaar. The life of a slum dog or the life of a man. A real man. A gunfighter, Salim. Maman holds Salim's head in his hands. MAMAN (CONT'D) Your destiny is in your hands, bhai. You can be me. Or nobody. Understand? SALIM Yes, Maman. Maman nods. MAMAN So, brother, go get Jamal. Salim is frozen for another few seconds, then turns and walks out of the door. Punnoose appears at the door. Maman nods to him and he slips off after Salim. 62 INT. DORMITORY, ORPHANAGE. NIGHT. 62 All the children are asleep apart from Jamal who is crouched underneath a couple of wash-basins. (CONTINUED) 40. 62 CONTINUED: 62 He is talking through a plate-sized hole in the crumbling masonry. Latika's eyes can be seen. JAMAL ...weddings, government things, big parties. If Maman says my voice is ready. Big money. LATIKA Enough for a room? JAMAL Easily. Maybe an apartment. LATIKA Really? JAMAL That's what Arvind said. On Harbour Road. You, me and Salim. The three musketeers. LATIKA Harbour Road! We can have ice cream from Babanji's. JAMAL Every day if we want. Salim appears at the door. Nods his head at Jamal. JAMAL (CONT'D) It's my turn. LATIKA Good luck, Jamal. Latika's hand comes through the gap. Jamal takes it for a moment. Salim hisses at Jamal. He lets go of the hand and heads out. 63 EXT. PATH. NIGHT. 63 Salim and Jamal walk along the path, Jamal humming happily. Salim checks behind him, sees Punnoose following. JAMAL So, this is it, hey, bhai? The good life, here we come.... SALIM (conversationally) Athos. Jamal is suddenly alert. Slows (CONTINUED) 41. 63 CONTINUED: 63 JAMAL Porthos? Salim nods. Big smile. Puts a hand on Jamal's shoulder. SALIM When I say. 64 INT. SHACK. NIGHT. 64 Salim guides Jamal into the shack where Maman and the Villager are waiting. Maman smiles. Punnoose slips in behind Salim. MAMAN Jamal, hello. You have done well. It's time for you to- turn professional. JAMAL Really? MAMAN Sing me a song, yaar. How about Chalo Ri Murali, huh? My favourite. Jamal opens his mouth, then closes it again. Holds out his hand. JAMAL Fifty rupees. MAMAN What? JAMAL (shrugs) I've turned professional. What can I do? Maman laughs. MAMAN Sala...! He throws some notes at him. 65 EXT. SHACK. NIGHT. 65 Outside, a giggle. Latika is peering through a gap in the wall. 42. 66 INT. SHACK. NIGHT. 66 Jamal begins to sing. Maman waits a while, then nods to Punnoose. Behind Jamal, Punnoose hands Salim the bottle of chloroform and the rag. Salim approaches the back of Jamal. Salim waits until he has finished the song. Raises his hand with the rag in it. Maman smiles, nods. Salim flings the contents of the bottle in Punnoose's face. Punnoose screams and stumbles back clutching his eyes, knocking over the table. SALIM Go! Salim and Jamal scramble for the door. The knocked-over candle catches the spilled chloroform and a curtain which whooshes up in flame. LATIKA Jamal! JAMAL Run! 66A EXT. SHACK. NIGHT. 66A They charge past the prone Arvind- a flash of bloodied bandages covering his eyes. 67 EXT. HILLSIDE. NIGHT. 67 Heavy, desperate breathing. Feet stumble on roots. Fall into holes. The three children are running. Branches smack into their faces. But they are so scared, nothing will stop them. Behind them, torches scour the undergrowth. Men shouting. They break out of the woods and are confronted with a train goods yard. 68 EXT. GOODS YARD. NIGHT. 68 They run over the tracks, between the trains, but the shouts are getting louder, the torches closer. A diesel engine is moving out of the station. Jamal, Latika and Salim sprint for the Guard's Van at the very back of the moving train. Punnoose is closest to them. Salim is fastest and first to jump the train. He holds out his hand. Jamal grabs it and is hauled in. Jamal holds his hand out to Latika. JAMAL Come on! Faster! She reaches out to him. Their hands almost touch. (CONTINUED) 43. 68 CONTINUED: 68 JAMAL (CONT'D) Take it! Take it! I can't reach... Salim barges Jamal out of the way. Jamal stumbles back as Salim reaches his hand out to Latika, so he doesn't see Latika's hand grasp Salim's, nor see their eyes lock onto each other, nor see Salim very deliberately let go of her hand. Latika stumbles. LATIKA Jamal! Jamal scrambles to the rail. The train gains more speed. Jamal climbs on to the top rung, makes to jump, but Salim flings him backward. Jamal tries to scramble to his feet again, but Salim restrains him. JAMAL Got to go back. We've got to go back. SALIM He'll kill us if we go back. Jamal! He was going to take your eyes out- with a bloody spoon! The train is speeding along. Jamal breaks free and stares back at Latika. SALIM (CONT'D) She'll be alright. She always is. Latika stumbles again and stops running. They watch as Punnoose catches up with her and stops running. He smashes Latika to the ground. 69 INT. STUDIO. NIGHT. 69 PREM The question was, for two hundred and fifty thousand rupees: who wrote the famous song Chalo Ri Murali. I should warn you, Jamal: from this question on, if you get the answer wrong you lose everything. So. Are you sure? The life-lines are there.... JAMAL Surdas. PREM Surdas. Apka final jawab? (CONTINUED) 44. 69 CONTINUED: 69 JAMAL Yes. PREM Computer-ji, A lock kiya-jaye. The lights dim, the music swells. Prem presses a button on his computer: looks him straight in the eyes for an age. PREM (CONT'D) (simply) Guess what? You're right. Applause, music, lights. 70 INT. INSPECTOR'S OFFICE. DAY. 70 The Inspector is eying Jamal, weighing it all up. JAMAL (shrugging) Blind singers earn double. You know that. INSPECTOR And what happened to the girl? They blinded her too? JAMAL (shakes his head) They had other plans. Though it took me a long, long time to find out. 71 EXT. TRAIN. MORNING. 71 Salim and Jamal are sitting on top of the train. Jamal is staring blankly down the track. SALIM Ar , Jamal... Salim puts an arm around Jamal's shoulder. Jamal wipes the tears from his eyes, shakes his head furiously. Salim gets up. Holds out his hand. SALIM (CONT'D) Come. JAMAL Where you going? SALIM First class, bhai. Where else? 45.

stretch

How many times the word 'stretch' appears in the text?

to a colleague. Puts out his cigarette with purpose. JAMAL Let's go, bhai. Salim and Jamal run. The girl follows. 22. 33 EXT. MUMBAI. EVENING. 33 Salim and Jamal stand on a hill overlooking the city. Black smoke billows from a large area that is clearly the Juhu slum. Standing a little way off is the girl. JAMAL We should go back. Silence. JAMAL (CONT'D) See if Ama- Salim shakes his head fiercely, silencing Jamal for a moment. But only a moment. JAMAL (CONT'D) What about Jeevan Chacha? Salim shakes his head. JAMAL (CONT'D) Maybe he- Salim shakes his head again. SALIM - I saw him. He was with them. JAMAL But he wouldn't hurt- SALIM - he was with them! JAMAL But- SALIM - shut up, Jamal, can't you? Just shut up! Salim turns away and sees the girl. Picks up a rock and hurls it at her. She dodges, takes a couple of steps back but makes no real attempt to get away. He finds another rock and hurls this in her direction too. SALIM (CONT'D) Ja! Then a flash of lightning and thunder rumbles across the city. Rain begins to come down. JAMAL What shall we do? (CONTINUED) 23. 33 CONTINUED: 33 No answer. Jamal sits down. Salim sits down. At a distance, the girl sits down. Rain pours down their faces. 34 INT. BUILDER'S YARD. NIGHT. 34 Rain as you've never seen. A pile of huge water pipes in a sprawling builder's yard. Jamal is in one pipe, Salim above him in another. They are both soaked, shivering, but have found some plastic sheet to wrap themselves in. Outside, thirty feet away, stands the girl. Staring. Salim hisses angrily at the girl. SALIM Go away. Ja, ja! The girl might not even have heard. SALIM (CONT'D) She'll have the Security Guard onto us, standing there. JAMAL Not if we let her in. SALIM No. JAMAL She could be the third musketeer. SALIM I am the head of this family, now. And I say no. Piss off, you. Salim huddles down in the pipe. After a while, Jamal follows suit. SALIM (CONT'D) We don't even know what the third musketeer's called. 35 EXT. JUHU SLUM. DAY 35 A flash of Jamal's mother being clubbed to the ground. Her scream. 36 INT. BUILDER'S YARD. LATER. 36 Jamal wakes with a jolt and a scream half-swallowed in his mouth. He shuts his eyes tight, trying to force the image out. His breathing slows and he sees the girl staring at him. Salim, too, is staring into nothing. The rain is still falling. (CONTINUED) 24. 36 CONTINUED: 36 The girl goes back to drawing shapes in the mud with her finger. Jamal climbs out of the pipe. Looks at Salim for permission or refusal, but he just continues to stare. So, Jamal walks across to her. She looks up, wary. JAMAL Where's your Mother? Silence. JAMAL (CONT'D) Father? The girl shakes her head slightly. Jamal takes the plastic sheet from around his shoulders. Gives it to her. JAMAL (CONT'D) I'm Jamal. He's Salim. LATIKA Latika. Jamal goes back to his water pipe, climbs in. Watches her huddled under the sheet. Sighs, motions for her to join him. She darts across, jumps into the water pipe and huddles up next to Jamal. 37 INT. INSPECTOR'S OFFICE. DAY. 37 Jamal looks at the Inspector. JAMAL I wake up every morning wishing I didn't know the answer to that question? If it wasn't for Ram and Allah, I would still have a Mother. 38 INT. STUDIO. NIGHT 38 JAMAL D) A bow and arrow. PREM Final answer? JAMAL Final answer. Prem stares at him for dramatic effect. Presses his computer. PREM Computer-ji, D lock kiya-jaye. (CONTINUED) 25. 38 CONTINUED: 38 The lights dim, the music swells. PREM (CONT'D) Jamal Malik, you answered D? Ram is depicted with a bow and arrow in his hand. And guess what? You've just won sixteen thousand rupees! Well done, my friend. Time for a commercial break- don't go away, now. Music, applause. Prem switches off his professional smile. Gets up. PREM (CONT'D) Got lucky, huh? I'd take the money. You'll never get the next one. JAMAL You're from the Juhu slum, aren't you? PREM Hmm? Sure. Know where I live now, kid? Pali Hill. Twelve bedrooms, a/c in every room, two kitchens, a gym and a screening room. Steel balls is what it takes, my friend, steel balls. The Floor Manager comes over and gives his head-phones set to Prem. Prem listens. DIRECTOR V/O Prem? Tone it down, for goodness sake. You're making him a laughing stock. Prem glances up at the gallery with contempt. PREM We're having fun here. They love it...Where the hell do you get them from? He makes no attempt to hide the conversation from Jamal. DIRECTOR V/O It's supposed to be a quiz show, not a blood sport. FLOOR MANAGER Two minutes. (CONTINUED) 26. 38 CONTINUED: (2) 38 PREM Stop wetting your pants. I'll be a good little boy with the next one. Promise. He chucks the head-phones back at the Floor Manager. Glances in the wings. Sees Nita, the make-up woman. Gets up and goes over. 39 INT. STUDIO. BACKSTAGE. NIGHT. 39 In the half-light, backstage, Nita dabs his face with powder. PREM Meet me after the show. Please. NITA No. PREM Nita, I can explain. NITA No need. I read it in bloody Stardust. Didn't even have the balls to tell me. "Prem's happiness with another baby on the way". After everything you said... PREM Baby, it all happened before I met you. I swear to you. NITA She's got the gestation period of an elephant, then. Prem is about to object. But instead, he laughs. PREM You see? Amidst all this misery, only you can make me laugh. Scornful but hints of melting. NITA All this misery... PREM Her and I- nothing. You have to believe me, baby... Nita turns away. The Floor Manager comes over. FLOOR MANAGER One minute. (CONTINUED) 27. 39 CONTINUED: 39 Prem slings himself in a chair. PREM No. I'm not going on. NITA Prem... PREM I can't. Without you, it's all pointless. Clicks his fingers at the Floor Manager. PREM (CONT'D) You. Tell the Director. Nita shakes her head at the Floor Manager who by now is looking very worried. FLOOR MANAGER Thirty seconds. Prem shrugs and folds his arms. Sees her weaken. NITA Prem... PREM Calypso Bar, private room, just you and me? FLOOR MANAGER Fifteen. NITA (furious) Alright. He grins, jumps up, blows her a kiss, and stalks back on stage. 40 INT. STUDIO. NIGHT. 40 He sits back down, says almost to himself. PREM Steel balls. Turns to Jamal. PREM (CONT'D) Okay, Juhu boy, you've had a good run. Take your Mother to Khandala and eat some chiki. JAMAL My Mother's dead. (CONTINUED) 28. 40 CONTINUED: 40 PREM Well, your girlfriend then. Even better. JAMAL I don't have a girl-friend. PREM Live wire like you? You surprise me. FLOOR MANAGER Five, four... The warm-up man starts the applause. TALKBACK V/O ....three, two, one... Cheering and music. Prem switches on his charm. PREM Welcome back to Who Wants to be a Millionaire! Our contestant, Jamal Malik, Call Centre Assistant- from Mumbai, is on sixteen thousand rupees and has already used one lifeline: Ask the Audience. So, my friend: are you ready for the next question? JAMAL Yes. PREM Then, let's play. Portentous music. The lights dim. PREM (CONT'D) For sixty-four thousand rupees. The British architect Frederick Stevens designed which famous building in India? Is it: A) The Taj Mahal. B) Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus. C) India Gate. D) Howrah Bridge. What do you think, Jamal? Are you one of those tea-boys with a penchant for architecture? 41 INT. CHHATRAPATI SHIVAJI TERMINUS. DAY. 41 Known to everyone as VT station, this monument to Victorian railway architecture is a dangerous place to be at rush hour. (CONTINUED) 29. 41 CONTINUED: 41 Even before the train has stopped, men are jumping from the open doors, or vaulting out of the windows or from the roof of the train to join the tens of thousands of Mumbaites streaming to and from work. A seventeen-year old Jamal squeezes himself out of a train and shoves through the crowds. He checks the time. The digital numerals flick to five O'clock. Looks around the tide of humanity. 42 INT. STUDIO. NIGHT. 42 PREM So, what's it to be? Walk away and this cheque for sixteen thousand rupees is yours. Look, it's even got your name on it. He produces a cheque and waves it at Jamal. JAMAL I don't have a bank account. Laughter from the audience. Prem is momentarily wrong- footed. JAMAL (CONT'D) But I'll take cash. More laughter, this time with Jamal, rather than at him. Prem gets up and starts rummaging theatrically through his jacket pockets and trousers. PREM Nope. Looks like the Producer's stolen my wallet again- JAMAL - I'll play. Nobody was expecting this. Least of all Prem who has to rearrange his features into one of surprised delight. He sits down. PREM You'll play? JAMAL Why not? PREM Well, well, well. We've got a wild one, here. Prem tears up the cheque with theatrical slowness. (CONTINUED) 30. 42 CONTINUED: 42 PREM (CONT'D) For sixty-four thousand rupees, Ladies and Gentlemen, the question once again.... 43 INT. CHHATRAPATI SHIVAJI TERMINUS. DAY. 43 The digital clocks show five fifteen. Shoving the descending river of people out of his way, the eighteen year-old Jamal is forging a path up steps that cross the platforms. He pushes to the middle of the footbridge and leans out on the side railings. He scans the sea of people, desperately. Then he sees her: the eighteen year-old Latika, heart-stoppingly beautiful, over the other side of the station. A world away. She is scanning the crowd, as wired as he is. JAMAL Latika! Latika! But though he is screaming her name, his voice is swallowed by the noise around him. Then he sees two thuggish-looking men also fighting a way towards her. JAMAL (CONT'D) Latika! Frightened now, he fights his way down the steps, one figure against an army of white-robed people. JAMAL (CONT'D) Latika! JAMAL V/O Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus. PREM V/O Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus. Sure? JAMAL V/O I think so. PREM V/O You think so. A brave man, Ladies and Gentlemen, a brave man. 44 INT. CHHATRAPATI SHIVAJI TERMINUS. DAY. 44 The commuters have mostly gone. Jamal is pacing the platform desperately. He stops, stares blankly at the statue in front of him- a proud, rather pompous figure in a Victorian frock coat. The plaque reads: Frederick Stevens. 31. 45 INT. INSPECTOR'S OFFICE. NIGHT. 45 The Inspector, Srinivas and Jamal are staring at the video recorder. JAMAL Yes. Final answer. Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus. PREM Is the right answer! Sixty-four thousand rupees to you, Sir! Applause and music. The Inspector presses pause. Stares at Jamal. INSPECTOR And did she come back? Jamal smiles sadly. JAMAL I wouldn't be here if she had. INSPECTOR Pretty was she? Jamal stares down at his feet. INSPECTOR (CONT'D) Guess not. Right in the eyes. JAMAL The most beautiful woman in the world. Constable Srinivas snorts. Suddenly, Jamal is out of his chair and at Srinivas' throat. The combined force of the Inspector and Srinivas force him roughly back down. He is again handcuffed to the chair. INSPECTOR OF POLICE Well, well. The slum dog barks. Money or women. The reason for most mistakes in life. Looks like you got mixed up with both. Srinivas, you need the exercise: a trip to VT Station to check on the statue. And lock your bloody bike up. Constable Srinivas swears under his breath but bumbles out. (CONTINUED) 32. 45 CONTINUED: 45 INSPECTOR That's the chutiy out the way. Now, man to man. How did you know all the answers? JAMAL If I knew, I'd tell you. 46 OMITTED 46 47 OMITTED 47 48 INT. STUDIO. NIGHT. 48 PREM Now we're into the serious money. For two hundred and fifty thousand rupees, ladies and gentlemen, a quarter of a million rupees...the song Chalo Ri Murali was written by which famous Indian poet. Was it A) Surdas. B) Tulsidas. C) Mira Bai. D) Kabir. Remember you still have two lifelines- fifty- fifty and Phone A Friend. Tempted to use one? JAMAL No. PREM No? JAMAL I know this one. PREM Oh. I see. An expert on the poets, huh? The lights dim, the music swells and Prem presses his computer. 49 EXT. MUMBAI STREET. NIGHT. 49 Jamal is studying a piece of paper and reading out numbers from it. There is something not quite right about Jamal- perhaps the fact that there are two feet by his ears. Salim is standing on his shoulders and spraying the numbers on a wall with an aerosol and a certain lack of confidence. (CONTINUED) 33. 49 CONTINUED: 49 JAMAL Four, nine, zero, nine- the one with the stick going down, Salim- six- stick going up- Latika's head appears from around the corner. LATIKA (whispered) Oi! But they don't hear. Then she is running for her life past the pair of them. JAMAL Six, one, shit, let's go- Salim collapses off Jamal's shoulders and all three run off down an alley past a dozen of the gang's sprayed-on adverts all reading: "Beanbags- 989 4909661". A fat Security Guard with a long stick huffs round the corner. Chases them up an alley. Nowhere to go except through an imposing gate that clearly leads to a private house. SECURITY GUARD Got you now, little shits. 50 EXT. GARDEN. NIGHT. 50 They charge across the lawn, down one side of the house where all the washing is hanging. The Guard gets caught up in drying sheets, towels. He fights his way through to see Salim, Latika and Jamal leaping over the wall to safety. But Jamal turns, jumps back and grabs a girl's dress from the line. SECURITY GUARD Aha! Little thief! The Security Guard lands a couple of blows on Jamal's back as he dodges around him and back across the lawn, dress in hand. The Security Guard gives up. SECURITY GUARD (CONT'D) Pervert! 51 INT. ALLEY. NIGHT. 51 Jamal is examing the bruises on his legs. SALIM Useless bloody look-out. What good is she, huh? (CONTINUED) 34. 51 CONTINUED: 51 LATIKA (infuriated) I tried to warn you. JAMAL It's okay, Salim. Latika slips on the dress. Spins. Both of them look up. Stare. She pulls her hair back, smiles, is transformed into a beautiful girl. 52 EXT. GORAI BEACH DUMPING GROUND. DAY. 52 Blazing sun. Diggers and trucks are shifting mounds of rubble on a rubbish dump that seems to stretch for ever. Oblivious to the dust kicked up by the trucks, Latika is picking up old plastic bags, examining each one and putting the less worn in a big sack. The dress is recognisable but dusty and torn. She stoops to dig another bag out of the dirt, but stops and stares. Shimmering in the heat, a rickety pick-up truck comes through the rubbish dump gates. Toots at the Guard who waves, pulls up in the dump. "Hope Orphanage is written on the side of the van. A man gets out. Looks around. 53 INT. `TENT'. DAY. 53 Under sheets of plastic propped up on sticks, Jamal and Salim are sleeping out the hottest part of the day. Jamal wakes to see a figure standing over him- a silhouette with a halo of sun behind him. Out of his bag, the man produces a bottle of Thumbs Up. He uncaps it with an alluring hiss. It is almost an advert for thirst-quenching affluence. Almost instinctively, Salim and Jamal stir. MAN Hello. He hands the bottle to Salim, gets another from his bag and waves it questioningly at Jamal. MAN (CONT'D) Hot, huh? My name is Maman. 54 EXT. ORPHANAGE. EVENING. 54 The hills on the edge of Bombay. Greenery and space, for the first time in the film. The pick-up truck pulls up outside a building with Jamal, Salim and Latika sitting on a bench in the back. Maman gets out. Drops the gate on the back of the pick-up. MAMAN Anyone hungry? Come on in. 35. 55 INT. ORPHANAGE COURTYARD. EVENING. 55 Twenty children are eating at long benches in a ramshackle courtyard. Maman, ushers Jamal, Salim and Latika in and sits them down at one of the benches. He waves a hand and a giant man, Punnoose, comes over with a big bowl of food. The three tear into it. Cleaning every last morsel of rice from his plate, Jamal looks up and notices a table peopled entirely with blind or crippled children. Some of the legless are eating on the floor next to the table. Jamal leans over to Salim. JAMAL He must be a very good man to look after these people. SALIM (glancing at them) A saint. Arvind, a boy smaller than either Jamal or Salim overhears. ARVIND We're not allowed to talk to them. LATIKA Why not? Arvind shrugs. Latika licks her plate, glances at Maman who is looking right at them. LATIKA (CONT'D) Well, if there are seconds, Maman is definitely a Saint. As if telepathic, Maman signals to Punnoose and he brings a large bowl of rice and dhal over to them. Latika looks at Jamal and Salim. They burst out laughing. LATIKA (CONT'D) I tell you, Lord Siva is with us. 56 INT. ORPHANAGE. EVENING. 56 Salim, Latika, Jamal and a group of children are standing in a line singing a doha- ancient lyrics set to music. Maman is leading the singing, walking up and down the line listening to each one individually. He stops at one small boy, Arvind, and listens. Nods his head, pleased, and continues down the line until he stops in front of Jamal. Holds up his hand. MAMAN Stop! You. Again. (CONTINUED) 36. 56 CONTINUED: 56 Jamal starts singing again. He has the sweetest of voices. Untrained but pure. Maman smiles, ruffles Jamal's hair, impressed. MAMAN (CONT'D) Everyone. They all join in. Maman continues down the line. He stops at Salim whose octave-slipping singing is lusty and appallingly out of tune. Maman winces and moves on. Standing next to Salim, Latika giggles. Immediately, Salim is on her. Before a fight breaks out, Punnoose pulls Salim off Latika and hurls him across the room. Salim gets up and charges at Punnoose. For a second, Punnoose is back-footed, but then pins Salim's arms to his side. Maman laughs. Approaches Salim. MAMAN (CONT'D) You sing like one, and you fight like one. I think you've found your dog, Punnoose. 57 EXT. CENTRAL MUMBAI TRAFFIC. DAY. 57 A group of children are sitting in the jumble of concrete under a motorway flyover. Cars surround them, bumper to bumper. Latika and Jamal are playing an improvised hopscotch on concrete slabs. They are giggling, bumping into each other, tickling, laughing. Salim and Punnoose are sitting together, smoking. Salim is staring hard at Jamal and Latika until Punnoose grunts, a sign for Salim to clap his hands. SALIM Okay, let's go, let's go! It's not a bloody holiday! The children get to their feet. Latika sighs, puts a patch over her eye and grabs a pair of crutches. Suddenly, the lame beggar. Salim goes over to one of the girls, who is carrying a sleeping baby. Puts out his hand. SALIM (CONT'D) Give me that. The girl shakes her head. Salim grabs her by the hair in one hand and takes the baby with the other. He shoves her to the ground. The other children stare. JAMAL Hey, Salim! He challenges Jamal. SALIM What, chot bhai? You got a problem? (CONTINUED) 37. 57 CONTINUED: 57 He laughs and walks over to Latika. SALIM (CONT'D) Here. For you. LATIKA I don't want it. SALIM You'll earn double. I'm doing you a favour, Latika. JAMAL She doesn't want it. SALIM Chup, Jamal. Latika turns away and begins to walk towards the cars. SALIM (CONT'D) I'll drop it. He holds the baby up. Latika grabs the baby with a cry just as Salim releases it from his hands. Salim pinches the baby. SALIM (CONT'D) Triple if it's crying. Latika snatches it away. Salim laughs, goes back to sitting with Punnoose. The children scatter to the cars trapped at the lights, tapping plaintively on the windows and making the universal begging gesture. 58 INT. ORPHANAGE. KITCHEN. NIGHT. 58 Surrounded by beer bottles, Punnoose is slumped asleep by the kitchen door. Latika edges past, avoids the cook sleeping under the table and goes to a shelf laden with vegetables. She pulls down a bunch of chillies still on the vine, strips a few off and tip-toes out with them. 59 INT. ORPHANAGE. DORMITORY. NIGHT. 59 Sleeping children, three or four to a mattress on the floor. Latika tip-toes around the mattresses. She pauses over one in particular where we see Salim, asleep. She carefully pulls up the sheet, delves underneath. Pleasant dreams cross Salim's sleeping face for a second. Then suddenly, he is bolt upright and screaming. He charges around the room clutching his genitals in agony. SALIM Madher chod...! (CONTINUED) 38. 59 CONTINUED: 59 He sprints out of the room, wailing. 60 INT. ORPHANAGE. SHOWERS. NIGHT. 60 The lights are on and two dozen children are screaming with laughter as Salim stands under the make-shift shower directing the water down his pants to his burning genitals, his face a picture of agony. Latika wipes crushed chillies from her hands. SALIM You're dead, sala. She smiles and walks past Jamal with a shrug. Then Punnoose comes stalking in and the children scatter away. PUNNOOSE Get back to bed, dogs! What the hell... JAMAL V/O They taught me every song in the history of Indian music. INSPECTOR V/O And why would they do that, I wonder? 61 INT. SHACK. NIGHT. 61 In a shack, Arvind is singing one of Surdas' bhajans in front of Maman and an old man who by his ragged appearance must be a villager. Punnoose and Salim sit behind Arvind. MAMAN Very good, very good. I am pleased, Arvind. He is ready. ARVIND Ready? Maman nods to Punnoose. Before Arvind can turn round, Punnoose has covered his mouth with a cloth and after the briefest of struggles, Arvind's body goes limp. The villager puts an old tin box on the table. Taking the lid from the tin, he brings out a cloth and unwraps it. Inside is a spoon. He checks the edge with his thumb. Sharp. Douses it with a clear liquid from a bottle and passes it over a candle flame. The spoon whooshes with a high flame for a moment. The villager wipes it with the cloth nods to Punnoose. PUNNOOSE Salim! (CONTINUED) 39. 61 CONTINUED: 61 Utterly bemused, Salim nevertheless helps Punnoose lay Arvind on the table. The villager takes hold of Arvind's eyelid and pulls it open. He brings the spoon close. Suddenly, Salim is being sick in the corner of the shack. By the time he has turned back, the villager is wiping the spoon on a blood-soaked rag. MAMAN Okay. Take him out the back. Punnoose picks up Arvind and carries him out. MAMAN (CONT'D) Now the other one. Salim, go get Jamal. A frozen moment. SALIM What? MAMAN Gunfighter Number One, isn't that right, Salim? The money, the women, the cars...you want them bad, huh? And why not? Maman gets out of his chair. Approaches Salim. MAMAN (CONT'D) The time has come to choose, yaar. The life of a slum dog or the life of a man. A real man. A gunfighter, Salim. Maman holds Salim's head in his hands. MAMAN (CONT'D) Your destiny is in your hands, bhai. You can be me. Or nobody. Understand? SALIM Yes, Maman. Maman nods. MAMAN So, brother, go get Jamal. Salim is frozen for another few seconds, then turns and walks out of the door. Punnoose appears at the door. Maman nods to him and he slips off after Salim. 62 INT. DORMITORY, ORPHANAGE. NIGHT. 62 All the children are asleep apart from Jamal who is crouched underneath a couple of wash-basins. (CONTINUED) 40. 62 CONTINUED: 62 He is talking through a plate-sized hole in the crumbling masonry. Latika's eyes can be seen. JAMAL ...weddings, government things, big parties. If Maman says my voice is ready. Big money. LATIKA Enough for a room? JAMAL Easily. Maybe an apartment. LATIKA Really? JAMAL That's what Arvind said. On Harbour Road. You, me and Salim. The three musketeers. LATIKA Harbour Road! We can have ice cream from Babanji's. JAMAL Every day if we want. Salim appears at the door. Nods his head at Jamal. JAMAL (CONT'D) It's my turn. LATIKA Good luck, Jamal. Latika's hand comes through the gap. Jamal takes it for a moment. Salim hisses at Jamal. He lets go of the hand and heads out. 63 EXT. PATH. NIGHT. 63 Salim and Jamal walk along the path, Jamal humming happily. Salim checks behind him, sees Punnoose following. JAMAL So, this is it, hey, bhai? The good life, here we come.... SALIM (conversationally) Athos. Jamal is suddenly alert. Slows (CONTINUED) 41. 63 CONTINUED: 63 JAMAL Porthos? Salim nods. Big smile. Puts a hand on Jamal's shoulder. SALIM When I say. 64 INT. SHACK. NIGHT. 64 Salim guides Jamal into the shack where Maman and the Villager are waiting. Maman smiles. Punnoose slips in behind Salim. MAMAN Jamal, hello. You have done well. It's time for you to- turn professional. JAMAL Really? MAMAN Sing me a song, yaar. How about Chalo Ri Murali, huh? My favourite. Jamal opens his mouth, then closes it again. Holds out his hand. JAMAL Fifty rupees. MAMAN What? JAMAL (shrugs) I've turned professional. What can I do? Maman laughs. MAMAN Sala...! He throws some notes at him. 65 EXT. SHACK. NIGHT. 65 Outside, a giggle. Latika is peering through a gap in the wall. 42. 66 INT. SHACK. NIGHT. 66 Jamal begins to sing. Maman waits a while, then nods to Punnoose. Behind Jamal, Punnoose hands Salim the bottle of chloroform and the rag. Salim approaches the back of Jamal. Salim waits until he has finished the song. Raises his hand with the rag in it. Maman smiles, nods. Salim flings the contents of the bottle in Punnoose's face. Punnoose screams and stumbles back clutching his eyes, knocking over the table. SALIM Go! Salim and Jamal scramble for the door. The knocked-over candle catches the spilled chloroform and a curtain which whooshes up in flame. LATIKA Jamal! JAMAL Run! 66A EXT. SHACK. NIGHT. 66A They charge past the prone Arvind- a flash of bloodied bandages covering his eyes. 67 EXT. HILLSIDE. NIGHT. 67 Heavy, desperate breathing. Feet stumble on roots. Fall into holes. The three children are running. Branches smack into their faces. But they are so scared, nothing will stop them. Behind them, torches scour the undergrowth. Men shouting. They break out of the woods and are confronted with a train goods yard. 68 EXT. GOODS YARD. NIGHT. 68 They run over the tracks, between the trains, but the shouts are getting louder, the torches closer. A diesel engine is moving out of the station. Jamal, Latika and Salim sprint for the Guard's Van at the very back of the moving train. Punnoose is closest to them. Salim is fastest and first to jump the train. He holds out his hand. Jamal grabs it and is hauled in. Jamal holds his hand out to Latika. JAMAL Come on! Faster! She reaches out to him. Their hands almost touch. (CONTINUED) 43. 68 CONTINUED: 68 JAMAL (CONT'D) Take it! Take it! I can't reach... Salim barges Jamal out of the way. Jamal stumbles back as Salim reaches his hand out to Latika, so he doesn't see Latika's hand grasp Salim's, nor see their eyes lock onto each other, nor see Salim very deliberately let go of her hand. Latika stumbles. LATIKA Jamal! Jamal scrambles to the rail. The train gains more speed. Jamal climbs on to the top rung, makes to jump, but Salim flings him backward. Jamal tries to scramble to his feet again, but Salim restrains him. JAMAL Got to go back. We've got to go back. SALIM He'll kill us if we go back. Jamal! He was going to take your eyes out- with a bloody spoon! The train is speeding along. Jamal breaks free and stares back at Latika. SALIM (CONT'D) She'll be alright. She always is. Latika stumbles again and stops running. They watch as Punnoose catches up with her and stops running. He smashes Latika to the ground. 69 INT. STUDIO. NIGHT. 69 PREM The question was, for two hundred and fifty thousand rupees: who wrote the famous song Chalo Ri Murali. I should warn you, Jamal: from this question on, if you get the answer wrong you lose everything. So. Are you sure? The life-lines are there.... JAMAL Surdas. PREM Surdas. Apka final jawab? (CONTINUED) 44. 69 CONTINUED: 69 JAMAL Yes. PREM Computer-ji, A lock kiya-jaye. The lights dim, the music swells. Prem presses a button on his computer: looks him straight in the eyes for an age. PREM (CONT'D) (simply) Guess what? You're right. Applause, music, lights. 70 INT. INSPECTOR'S OFFICE. DAY. 70 The Inspector is eying Jamal, weighing it all up. JAMAL (shrugging) Blind singers earn double. You know that. INSPECTOR And what happened to the girl? They blinded her too? JAMAL (shakes his head) They had other plans. Though it took me a long, long time to find out. 71 EXT. TRAIN. MORNING. 71 Salim and Jamal are sitting on top of the train. Jamal is staring blankly down the track. SALIM Ar , Jamal... Salim puts an arm around Jamal's shoulder. Jamal wipes the tears from his eyes, shakes his head furiously. Salim gets up. Holds out his hand. SALIM (CONT'D) Come. JAMAL Where you going? SALIM First class, bhai. Where else? 45.

whispering

How many times the word 'whispering' appears in the text?

to a colleague. Puts out his cigarette with purpose. JAMAL Let's go, bhai. Salim and Jamal run. The girl follows. 22. 33 EXT. MUMBAI. EVENING. 33 Salim and Jamal stand on a hill overlooking the city. Black smoke billows from a large area that is clearly the Juhu slum. Standing a little way off is the girl. JAMAL We should go back. Silence. JAMAL (CONT'D) See if Ama- Salim shakes his head fiercely, silencing Jamal for a moment. But only a moment. JAMAL (CONT'D) What about Jeevan Chacha? Salim shakes his head. JAMAL (CONT'D) Maybe he- Salim shakes his head again. SALIM - I saw him. He was with them. JAMAL But he wouldn't hurt- SALIM - he was with them! JAMAL But- SALIM - shut up, Jamal, can't you? Just shut up! Salim turns away and sees the girl. Picks up a rock and hurls it at her. She dodges, takes a couple of steps back but makes no real attempt to get away. He finds another rock and hurls this in her direction too. SALIM (CONT'D) Ja! Then a flash of lightning and thunder rumbles across the city. Rain begins to come down. JAMAL What shall we do? (CONTINUED) 23. 33 CONTINUED: 33 No answer. Jamal sits down. Salim sits down. At a distance, the girl sits down. Rain pours down their faces. 34 INT. BUILDER'S YARD. NIGHT. 34 Rain as you've never seen. A pile of huge water pipes in a sprawling builder's yard. Jamal is in one pipe, Salim above him in another. They are both soaked, shivering, but have found some plastic sheet to wrap themselves in. Outside, thirty feet away, stands the girl. Staring. Salim hisses angrily at the girl. SALIM Go away. Ja, ja! The girl might not even have heard. SALIM (CONT'D) She'll have the Security Guard onto us, standing there. JAMAL Not if we let her in. SALIM No. JAMAL She could be the third musketeer. SALIM I am the head of this family, now. And I say no. Piss off, you. Salim huddles down in the pipe. After a while, Jamal follows suit. SALIM (CONT'D) We don't even know what the third musketeer's called. 35 EXT. JUHU SLUM. DAY 35 A flash of Jamal's mother being clubbed to the ground. Her scream. 36 INT. BUILDER'S YARD. LATER. 36 Jamal wakes with a jolt and a scream half-swallowed in his mouth. He shuts his eyes tight, trying to force the image out. His breathing slows and he sees the girl staring at him. Salim, too, is staring into nothing. The rain is still falling. (CONTINUED) 24. 36 CONTINUED: 36 The girl goes back to drawing shapes in the mud with her finger. Jamal climbs out of the pipe. Looks at Salim for permission or refusal, but he just continues to stare. So, Jamal walks across to her. She looks up, wary. JAMAL Where's your Mother? Silence. JAMAL (CONT'D) Father? The girl shakes her head slightly. Jamal takes the plastic sheet from around his shoulders. Gives it to her. JAMAL (CONT'D) I'm Jamal. He's Salim. LATIKA Latika. Jamal goes back to his water pipe, climbs in. Watches her huddled under the sheet. Sighs, motions for her to join him. She darts across, jumps into the water pipe and huddles up next to Jamal. 37 INT. INSPECTOR'S OFFICE. DAY. 37 Jamal looks at the Inspector. JAMAL I wake up every morning wishing I didn't know the answer to that question? If it wasn't for Ram and Allah, I would still have a Mother. 38 INT. STUDIO. NIGHT 38 JAMAL D) A bow and arrow. PREM Final answer? JAMAL Final answer. Prem stares at him for dramatic effect. Presses his computer. PREM Computer-ji, D lock kiya-jaye. (CONTINUED) 25. 38 CONTINUED: 38 The lights dim, the music swells. PREM (CONT'D) Jamal Malik, you answered D? Ram is depicted with a bow and arrow in his hand. And guess what? You've just won sixteen thousand rupees! Well done, my friend. Time for a commercial break- don't go away, now. Music, applause. Prem switches off his professional smile. Gets up. PREM (CONT'D) Got lucky, huh? I'd take the money. You'll never get the next one. JAMAL You're from the Juhu slum, aren't you? PREM Hmm? Sure. Know where I live now, kid? Pali Hill. Twelve bedrooms, a/c in every room, two kitchens, a gym and a screening room. Steel balls is what it takes, my friend, steel balls. The Floor Manager comes over and gives his head-phones set to Prem. Prem listens. DIRECTOR V/O Prem? Tone it down, for goodness sake. You're making him a laughing stock. Prem glances up at the gallery with contempt. PREM We're having fun here. They love it...Where the hell do you get them from? He makes no attempt to hide the conversation from Jamal. DIRECTOR V/O It's supposed to be a quiz show, not a blood sport. FLOOR MANAGER Two minutes. (CONTINUED) 26. 38 CONTINUED: (2) 38 PREM Stop wetting your pants. I'll be a good little boy with the next one. Promise. He chucks the head-phones back at the Floor Manager. Glances in the wings. Sees Nita, the make-up woman. Gets up and goes over. 39 INT. STUDIO. BACKSTAGE. NIGHT. 39 In the half-light, backstage, Nita dabs his face with powder. PREM Meet me after the show. Please. NITA No. PREM Nita, I can explain. NITA No need. I read it in bloody Stardust. Didn't even have the balls to tell me. "Prem's happiness with another baby on the way". After everything you said... PREM Baby, it all happened before I met you. I swear to you. NITA She's got the gestation period of an elephant, then. Prem is about to object. But instead, he laughs. PREM You see? Amidst all this misery, only you can make me laugh. Scornful but hints of melting. NITA All this misery... PREM Her and I- nothing. You have to believe me, baby... Nita turns away. The Floor Manager comes over. FLOOR MANAGER One minute. (CONTINUED) 27. 39 CONTINUED: 39 Prem slings himself in a chair. PREM No. I'm not going on. NITA Prem... PREM I can't. Without you, it's all pointless. Clicks his fingers at the Floor Manager. PREM (CONT'D) You. Tell the Director. Nita shakes her head at the Floor Manager who by now is looking very worried. FLOOR MANAGER Thirty seconds. Prem shrugs and folds his arms. Sees her weaken. NITA Prem... PREM Calypso Bar, private room, just you and me? FLOOR MANAGER Fifteen. NITA (furious) Alright. He grins, jumps up, blows her a kiss, and stalks back on stage. 40 INT. STUDIO. NIGHT. 40 He sits back down, says almost to himself. PREM Steel balls. Turns to Jamal. PREM (CONT'D) Okay, Juhu boy, you've had a good run. Take your Mother to Khandala and eat some chiki. JAMAL My Mother's dead. (CONTINUED) 28. 40 CONTINUED: 40 PREM Well, your girlfriend then. Even better. JAMAL I don't have a girl-friend. PREM Live wire like you? You surprise me. FLOOR MANAGER Five, four... The warm-up man starts the applause. TALKBACK V/O ....three, two, one... Cheering and music. Prem switches on his charm. PREM Welcome back to Who Wants to be a Millionaire! Our contestant, Jamal Malik, Call Centre Assistant- from Mumbai, is on sixteen thousand rupees and has already used one lifeline: Ask the Audience. So, my friend: are you ready for the next question? JAMAL Yes. PREM Then, let's play. Portentous music. The lights dim. PREM (CONT'D) For sixty-four thousand rupees. The British architect Frederick Stevens designed which famous building in India? Is it: A) The Taj Mahal. B) Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus. C) India Gate. D) Howrah Bridge. What do you think, Jamal? Are you one of those tea-boys with a penchant for architecture? 41 INT. CHHATRAPATI SHIVAJI TERMINUS. DAY. 41 Known to everyone as VT station, this monument to Victorian railway architecture is a dangerous place to be at rush hour. (CONTINUED) 29. 41 CONTINUED: 41 Even before the train has stopped, men are jumping from the open doors, or vaulting out of the windows or from the roof of the train to join the tens of thousands of Mumbaites streaming to and from work. A seventeen-year old Jamal squeezes himself out of a train and shoves through the crowds. He checks the time. The digital numerals flick to five O'clock. Looks around the tide of humanity. 42 INT. STUDIO. NIGHT. 42 PREM So, what's it to be? Walk away and this cheque for sixteen thousand rupees is yours. Look, it's even got your name on it. He produces a cheque and waves it at Jamal. JAMAL I don't have a bank account. Laughter from the audience. Prem is momentarily wrong- footed. JAMAL (CONT'D) But I'll take cash. More laughter, this time with Jamal, rather than at him. Prem gets up and starts rummaging theatrically through his jacket pockets and trousers. PREM Nope. Looks like the Producer's stolen my wallet again- JAMAL - I'll play. Nobody was expecting this. Least of all Prem who has to rearrange his features into one of surprised delight. He sits down. PREM You'll play? JAMAL Why not? PREM Well, well, well. We've got a wild one, here. Prem tears up the cheque with theatrical slowness. (CONTINUED) 30. 42 CONTINUED: 42 PREM (CONT'D) For sixty-four thousand rupees, Ladies and Gentlemen, the question once again.... 43 INT. CHHATRAPATI SHIVAJI TERMINUS. DAY. 43 The digital clocks show five fifteen. Shoving the descending river of people out of his way, the eighteen year-old Jamal is forging a path up steps that cross the platforms. He pushes to the middle of the footbridge and leans out on the side railings. He scans the sea of people, desperately. Then he sees her: the eighteen year-old Latika, heart-stoppingly beautiful, over the other side of the station. A world away. She is scanning the crowd, as wired as he is. JAMAL Latika! Latika! But though he is screaming her name, his voice is swallowed by the noise around him. Then he sees two thuggish-looking men also fighting a way towards her. JAMAL (CONT'D) Latika! Frightened now, he fights his way down the steps, one figure against an army of white-robed people. JAMAL (CONT'D) Latika! JAMAL V/O Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus. PREM V/O Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus. Sure? JAMAL V/O I think so. PREM V/O You think so. A brave man, Ladies and Gentlemen, a brave man. 44 INT. CHHATRAPATI SHIVAJI TERMINUS. DAY. 44 The commuters have mostly gone. Jamal is pacing the platform desperately. He stops, stares blankly at the statue in front of him- a proud, rather pompous figure in a Victorian frock coat. The plaque reads: Frederick Stevens. 31. 45 INT. INSPECTOR'S OFFICE. NIGHT. 45 The Inspector, Srinivas and Jamal are staring at the video recorder. JAMAL Yes. Final answer. Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus. PREM Is the right answer! Sixty-four thousand rupees to you, Sir! Applause and music. The Inspector presses pause. Stares at Jamal. INSPECTOR And did she come back? Jamal smiles sadly. JAMAL I wouldn't be here if she had. INSPECTOR Pretty was she? Jamal stares down at his feet. INSPECTOR (CONT'D) Guess not. Right in the eyes. JAMAL The most beautiful woman in the world. Constable Srinivas snorts. Suddenly, Jamal is out of his chair and at Srinivas' throat. The combined force of the Inspector and Srinivas force him roughly back down. He is again handcuffed to the chair. INSPECTOR OF POLICE Well, well. The slum dog barks. Money or women. The reason for most mistakes in life. Looks like you got mixed up with both. Srinivas, you need the exercise: a trip to VT Station to check on the statue. And lock your bloody bike up. Constable Srinivas swears under his breath but bumbles out. (CONTINUED) 32. 45 CONTINUED: 45 INSPECTOR That's the chutiy out the way. Now, man to man. How did you know all the answers? JAMAL If I knew, I'd tell you. 46 OMITTED 46 47 OMITTED 47 48 INT. STUDIO. NIGHT. 48 PREM Now we're into the serious money. For two hundred and fifty thousand rupees, ladies and gentlemen, a quarter of a million rupees...the song Chalo Ri Murali was written by which famous Indian poet. Was it A) Surdas. B) Tulsidas. C) Mira Bai. D) Kabir. Remember you still have two lifelines- fifty- fifty and Phone A Friend. Tempted to use one? JAMAL No. PREM No? JAMAL I know this one. PREM Oh. I see. An expert on the poets, huh? The lights dim, the music swells and Prem presses his computer. 49 EXT. MUMBAI STREET. NIGHT. 49 Jamal is studying a piece of paper and reading out numbers from it. There is something not quite right about Jamal- perhaps the fact that there are two feet by his ears. Salim is standing on his shoulders and spraying the numbers on a wall with an aerosol and a certain lack of confidence. (CONTINUED) 33. 49 CONTINUED: 49 JAMAL Four, nine, zero, nine- the one with the stick going down, Salim- six- stick going up- Latika's head appears from around the corner. LATIKA (whispered) Oi! But they don't hear. Then she is running for her life past the pair of them. JAMAL Six, one, shit, let's go- Salim collapses off Jamal's shoulders and all three run off down an alley past a dozen of the gang's sprayed-on adverts all reading: "Beanbags- 989 4909661". A fat Security Guard with a long stick huffs round the corner. Chases them up an alley. Nowhere to go except through an imposing gate that clearly leads to a private house. SECURITY GUARD Got you now, little shits. 50 EXT. GARDEN. NIGHT. 50 They charge across the lawn, down one side of the house where all the washing is hanging. The Guard gets caught up in drying sheets, towels. He fights his way through to see Salim, Latika and Jamal leaping over the wall to safety. But Jamal turns, jumps back and grabs a girl's dress from the line. SECURITY GUARD Aha! Little thief! The Security Guard lands a couple of blows on Jamal's back as he dodges around him and back across the lawn, dress in hand. The Security Guard gives up. SECURITY GUARD (CONT'D) Pervert! 51 INT. ALLEY. NIGHT. 51 Jamal is examing the bruises on his legs. SALIM Useless bloody look-out. What good is she, huh? (CONTINUED) 34. 51 CONTINUED: 51 LATIKA (infuriated) I tried to warn you. JAMAL It's okay, Salim. Latika slips on the dress. Spins. Both of them look up. Stare. She pulls her hair back, smiles, is transformed into a beautiful girl. 52 EXT. GORAI BEACH DUMPING GROUND. DAY. 52 Blazing sun. Diggers and trucks are shifting mounds of rubble on a rubbish dump that seems to stretch for ever. Oblivious to the dust kicked up by the trucks, Latika is picking up old plastic bags, examining each one and putting the less worn in a big sack. The dress is recognisable but dusty and torn. She stoops to dig another bag out of the dirt, but stops and stares. Shimmering in the heat, a rickety pick-up truck comes through the rubbish dump gates. Toots at the Guard who waves, pulls up in the dump. "Hope Orphanage is written on the side of the van. A man gets out. Looks around. 53 INT. `TENT'. DAY. 53 Under sheets of plastic propped up on sticks, Jamal and Salim are sleeping out the hottest part of the day. Jamal wakes to see a figure standing over him- a silhouette with a halo of sun behind him. Out of his bag, the man produces a bottle of Thumbs Up. He uncaps it with an alluring hiss. It is almost an advert for thirst-quenching affluence. Almost instinctively, Salim and Jamal stir. MAN Hello. He hands the bottle to Salim, gets another from his bag and waves it questioningly at Jamal. MAN (CONT'D) Hot, huh? My name is Maman. 54 EXT. ORPHANAGE. EVENING. 54 The hills on the edge of Bombay. Greenery and space, for the first time in the film. The pick-up truck pulls up outside a building with Jamal, Salim and Latika sitting on a bench in the back. Maman gets out. Drops the gate on the back of the pick-up. MAMAN Anyone hungry? Come on in. 35. 55 INT. ORPHANAGE COURTYARD. EVENING. 55 Twenty children are eating at long benches in a ramshackle courtyard. Maman, ushers Jamal, Salim and Latika in and sits them down at one of the benches. He waves a hand and a giant man, Punnoose, comes over with a big bowl of food. The three tear into it. Cleaning every last morsel of rice from his plate, Jamal looks up and notices a table peopled entirely with blind or crippled children. Some of the legless are eating on the floor next to the table. Jamal leans over to Salim. JAMAL He must be a very good man to look after these people. SALIM (glancing at them) A saint. Arvind, a boy smaller than either Jamal or Salim overhears. ARVIND We're not allowed to talk to them. LATIKA Why not? Arvind shrugs. Latika licks her plate, glances at Maman who is looking right at them. LATIKA (CONT'D) Well, if there are seconds, Maman is definitely a Saint. As if telepathic, Maman signals to Punnoose and he brings a large bowl of rice and dhal over to them. Latika looks at Jamal and Salim. They burst out laughing. LATIKA (CONT'D) I tell you, Lord Siva is with us. 56 INT. ORPHANAGE. EVENING. 56 Salim, Latika, Jamal and a group of children are standing in a line singing a doha- ancient lyrics set to music. Maman is leading the singing, walking up and down the line listening to each one individually. He stops at one small boy, Arvind, and listens. Nods his head, pleased, and continues down the line until he stops in front of Jamal. Holds up his hand. MAMAN Stop! You. Again. (CONTINUED) 36. 56 CONTINUED: 56 Jamal starts singing again. He has the sweetest of voices. Untrained but pure. Maman smiles, ruffles Jamal's hair, impressed. MAMAN (CONT'D) Everyone. They all join in. Maman continues down the line. He stops at Salim whose octave-slipping singing is lusty and appallingly out of tune. Maman winces and moves on. Standing next to Salim, Latika giggles. Immediately, Salim is on her. Before a fight breaks out, Punnoose pulls Salim off Latika and hurls him across the room. Salim gets up and charges at Punnoose. For a second, Punnoose is back-footed, but then pins Salim's arms to his side. Maman laughs. Approaches Salim. MAMAN (CONT'D) You sing like one, and you fight like one. I think you've found your dog, Punnoose. 57 EXT. CENTRAL MUMBAI TRAFFIC. DAY. 57 A group of children are sitting in the jumble of concrete under a motorway flyover. Cars surround them, bumper to bumper. Latika and Jamal are playing an improvised hopscotch on concrete slabs. They are giggling, bumping into each other, tickling, laughing. Salim and Punnoose are sitting together, smoking. Salim is staring hard at Jamal and Latika until Punnoose grunts, a sign for Salim to clap his hands. SALIM Okay, let's go, let's go! It's not a bloody holiday! The children get to their feet. Latika sighs, puts a patch over her eye and grabs a pair of crutches. Suddenly, the lame beggar. Salim goes over to one of the girls, who is carrying a sleeping baby. Puts out his hand. SALIM (CONT'D) Give me that. The girl shakes her head. Salim grabs her by the hair in one hand and takes the baby with the other. He shoves her to the ground. The other children stare. JAMAL Hey, Salim! He challenges Jamal. SALIM What, chot bhai? You got a problem? (CONTINUED) 37. 57 CONTINUED: 57 He laughs and walks over to Latika. SALIM (CONT'D) Here. For you. LATIKA I don't want it. SALIM You'll earn double. I'm doing you a favour, Latika. JAMAL She doesn't want it. SALIM Chup, Jamal. Latika turns away and begins to walk towards the cars. SALIM (CONT'D) I'll drop it. He holds the baby up. Latika grabs the baby with a cry just as Salim releases it from his hands. Salim pinches the baby. SALIM (CONT'D) Triple if it's crying. Latika snatches it away. Salim laughs, goes back to sitting with Punnoose. The children scatter to the cars trapped at the lights, tapping plaintively on the windows and making the universal begging gesture. 58 INT. ORPHANAGE. KITCHEN. NIGHT. 58 Surrounded by beer bottles, Punnoose is slumped asleep by the kitchen door. Latika edges past, avoids the cook sleeping under the table and goes to a shelf laden with vegetables. She pulls down a bunch of chillies still on the vine, strips a few off and tip-toes out with them. 59 INT. ORPHANAGE. DORMITORY. NIGHT. 59 Sleeping children, three or four to a mattress on the floor. Latika tip-toes around the mattresses. She pauses over one in particular where we see Salim, asleep. She carefully pulls up the sheet, delves underneath. Pleasant dreams cross Salim's sleeping face for a second. Then suddenly, he is bolt upright and screaming. He charges around the room clutching his genitals in agony. SALIM Madher chod...! (CONTINUED) 38. 59 CONTINUED: 59 He sprints out of the room, wailing. 60 INT. ORPHANAGE. SHOWERS. NIGHT. 60 The lights are on and two dozen children are screaming with laughter as Salim stands under the make-shift shower directing the water down his pants to his burning genitals, his face a picture of agony. Latika wipes crushed chillies from her hands. SALIM You're dead, sala. She smiles and walks past Jamal with a shrug. Then Punnoose comes stalking in and the children scatter away. PUNNOOSE Get back to bed, dogs! What the hell... JAMAL V/O They taught me every song in the history of Indian music. INSPECTOR V/O And why would they do that, I wonder? 61 INT. SHACK. NIGHT. 61 In a shack, Arvind is singing one of Surdas' bhajans in front of Maman and an old man who by his ragged appearance must be a villager. Punnoose and Salim sit behind Arvind. MAMAN Very good, very good. I am pleased, Arvind. He is ready. ARVIND Ready? Maman nods to Punnoose. Before Arvind can turn round, Punnoose has covered his mouth with a cloth and after the briefest of struggles, Arvind's body goes limp. The villager puts an old tin box on the table. Taking the lid from the tin, he brings out a cloth and unwraps it. Inside is a spoon. He checks the edge with his thumb. Sharp. Douses it with a clear liquid from a bottle and passes it over a candle flame. The spoon whooshes with a high flame for a moment. The villager wipes it with the cloth nods to Punnoose. PUNNOOSE Salim! (CONTINUED) 39. 61 CONTINUED: 61 Utterly bemused, Salim nevertheless helps Punnoose lay Arvind on the table. The villager takes hold of Arvind's eyelid and pulls it open. He brings the spoon close. Suddenly, Salim is being sick in the corner of the shack. By the time he has turned back, the villager is wiping the spoon on a blood-soaked rag. MAMAN Okay. Take him out the back. Punnoose picks up Arvind and carries him out. MAMAN (CONT'D) Now the other one. Salim, go get Jamal. A frozen moment. SALIM What? MAMAN Gunfighter Number One, isn't that right, Salim? The money, the women, the cars...you want them bad, huh? And why not? Maman gets out of his chair. Approaches Salim. MAMAN (CONT'D) The time has come to choose, yaar. The life of a slum dog or the life of a man. A real man. A gunfighter, Salim. Maman holds Salim's head in his hands. MAMAN (CONT'D) Your destiny is in your hands, bhai. You can be me. Or nobody. Understand? SALIM Yes, Maman. Maman nods. MAMAN So, brother, go get Jamal. Salim is frozen for another few seconds, then turns and walks out of the door. Punnoose appears at the door. Maman nods to him and he slips off after Salim. 62 INT. DORMITORY, ORPHANAGE. NIGHT. 62 All the children are asleep apart from Jamal who is crouched underneath a couple of wash-basins. (CONTINUED) 40. 62 CONTINUED: 62 He is talking through a plate-sized hole in the crumbling masonry. Latika's eyes can be seen. JAMAL ...weddings, government things, big parties. If Maman says my voice is ready. Big money. LATIKA Enough for a room? JAMAL Easily. Maybe an apartment. LATIKA Really? JAMAL That's what Arvind said. On Harbour Road. You, me and Salim. The three musketeers. LATIKA Harbour Road! We can have ice cream from Babanji's. JAMAL Every day if we want. Salim appears at the door. Nods his head at Jamal. JAMAL (CONT'D) It's my turn. LATIKA Good luck, Jamal. Latika's hand comes through the gap. Jamal takes it for a moment. Salim hisses at Jamal. He lets go of the hand and heads out. 63 EXT. PATH. NIGHT. 63 Salim and Jamal walk along the path, Jamal humming happily. Salim checks behind him, sees Punnoose following. JAMAL So, this is it, hey, bhai? The good life, here we come.... SALIM (conversationally) Athos. Jamal is suddenly alert. Slows (CONTINUED) 41. 63 CONTINUED: 63 JAMAL Porthos? Salim nods. Big smile. Puts a hand on Jamal's shoulder. SALIM When I say. 64 INT. SHACK. NIGHT. 64 Salim guides Jamal into the shack where Maman and the Villager are waiting. Maman smiles. Punnoose slips in behind Salim. MAMAN Jamal, hello. You have done well. It's time for you to- turn professional. JAMAL Really? MAMAN Sing me a song, yaar. How about Chalo Ri Murali, huh? My favourite. Jamal opens his mouth, then closes it again. Holds out his hand. JAMAL Fifty rupees. MAMAN What? JAMAL (shrugs) I've turned professional. What can I do? Maman laughs. MAMAN Sala...! He throws some notes at him. 65 EXT. SHACK. NIGHT. 65 Outside, a giggle. Latika is peering through a gap in the wall. 42. 66 INT. SHACK. NIGHT. 66 Jamal begins to sing. Maman waits a while, then nods to Punnoose. Behind Jamal, Punnoose hands Salim the bottle of chloroform and the rag. Salim approaches the back of Jamal. Salim waits until he has finished the song. Raises his hand with the rag in it. Maman smiles, nods. Salim flings the contents of the bottle in Punnoose's face. Punnoose screams and stumbles back clutching his eyes, knocking over the table. SALIM Go! Salim and Jamal scramble for the door. The knocked-over candle catches the spilled chloroform and a curtain which whooshes up in flame. LATIKA Jamal! JAMAL Run! 66A EXT. SHACK. NIGHT. 66A They charge past the prone Arvind- a flash of bloodied bandages covering his eyes. 67 EXT. HILLSIDE. NIGHT. 67 Heavy, desperate breathing. Feet stumble on roots. Fall into holes. The three children are running. Branches smack into their faces. But they are so scared, nothing will stop them. Behind them, torches scour the undergrowth. Men shouting. They break out of the woods and are confronted with a train goods yard. 68 EXT. GOODS YARD. NIGHT. 68 They run over the tracks, between the trains, but the shouts are getting louder, the torches closer. A diesel engine is moving out of the station. Jamal, Latika and Salim sprint for the Guard's Van at the very back of the moving train. Punnoose is closest to them. Salim is fastest and first to jump the train. He holds out his hand. Jamal grabs it and is hauled in. Jamal holds his hand out to Latika. JAMAL Come on! Faster! She reaches out to him. Their hands almost touch. (CONTINUED) 43. 68 CONTINUED: 68 JAMAL (CONT'D) Take it! Take it! I can't reach... Salim barges Jamal out of the way. Jamal stumbles back as Salim reaches his hand out to Latika, so he doesn't see Latika's hand grasp Salim's, nor see their eyes lock onto each other, nor see Salim very deliberately let go of her hand. Latika stumbles. LATIKA Jamal! Jamal scrambles to the rail. The train gains more speed. Jamal climbs on to the top rung, makes to jump, but Salim flings him backward. Jamal tries to scramble to his feet again, but Salim restrains him. JAMAL Got to go back. We've got to go back. SALIM He'll kill us if we go back. Jamal! He was going to take your eyes out- with a bloody spoon! The train is speeding along. Jamal breaks free and stares back at Latika. SALIM (CONT'D) She'll be alright. She always is. Latika stumbles again and stops running. They watch as Punnoose catches up with her and stops running. He smashes Latika to the ground. 69 INT. STUDIO. NIGHT. 69 PREM The question was, for two hundred and fifty thousand rupees: who wrote the famous song Chalo Ri Murali. I should warn you, Jamal: from this question on, if you get the answer wrong you lose everything. So. Are you sure? The life-lines are there.... JAMAL Surdas. PREM Surdas. Apka final jawab? (CONTINUED) 44. 69 CONTINUED: 69 JAMAL Yes. PREM Computer-ji, A lock kiya-jaye. The lights dim, the music swells. Prem presses a button on his computer: looks him straight in the eyes for an age. PREM (CONT'D) (simply) Guess what? You're right. Applause, music, lights. 70 INT. INSPECTOR'S OFFICE. DAY. 70 The Inspector is eying Jamal, weighing it all up. JAMAL (shrugging) Blind singers earn double. You know that. INSPECTOR And what happened to the girl? They blinded her too? JAMAL (shakes his head) They had other plans. Though it took me a long, long time to find out. 71 EXT. TRAIN. MORNING. 71 Salim and Jamal are sitting on top of the train. Jamal is staring blankly down the track. SALIM Ar , Jamal... Salim puts an arm around Jamal's shoulder. Jamal wipes the tears from his eyes, shakes his head furiously. Salim gets up. Holds out his hand. SALIM (CONT'D) Come. JAMAL Where you going? SALIM First class, bhai. Where else? 45.

payload

How many times the word 'payload' appears in the text?

to a colleague. Puts out his cigarette with purpose. JAMAL Let's go, bhai. Salim and Jamal run. The girl follows. 22. 33 EXT. MUMBAI. EVENING. 33 Salim and Jamal stand on a hill overlooking the city. Black smoke billows from a large area that is clearly the Juhu slum. Standing a little way off is the girl. JAMAL We should go back. Silence. JAMAL (CONT'D) See if Ama- Salim shakes his head fiercely, silencing Jamal for a moment. But only a moment. JAMAL (CONT'D) What about Jeevan Chacha? Salim shakes his head. JAMAL (CONT'D) Maybe he- Salim shakes his head again. SALIM - I saw him. He was with them. JAMAL But he wouldn't hurt- SALIM - he was with them! JAMAL But- SALIM - shut up, Jamal, can't you? Just shut up! Salim turns away and sees the girl. Picks up a rock and hurls it at her. She dodges, takes a couple of steps back but makes no real attempt to get away. He finds another rock and hurls this in her direction too. SALIM (CONT'D) Ja! Then a flash of lightning and thunder rumbles across the city. Rain begins to come down. JAMAL What shall we do? (CONTINUED) 23. 33 CONTINUED: 33 No answer. Jamal sits down. Salim sits down. At a distance, the girl sits down. Rain pours down their faces. 34 INT. BUILDER'S YARD. NIGHT. 34 Rain as you've never seen. A pile of huge water pipes in a sprawling builder's yard. Jamal is in one pipe, Salim above him in another. They are both soaked, shivering, but have found some plastic sheet to wrap themselves in. Outside, thirty feet away, stands the girl. Staring. Salim hisses angrily at the girl. SALIM Go away. Ja, ja! The girl might not even have heard. SALIM (CONT'D) She'll have the Security Guard onto us, standing there. JAMAL Not if we let her in. SALIM No. JAMAL She could be the third musketeer. SALIM I am the head of this family, now. And I say no. Piss off, you. Salim huddles down in the pipe. After a while, Jamal follows suit. SALIM (CONT'D) We don't even know what the third musketeer's called. 35 EXT. JUHU SLUM. DAY 35 A flash of Jamal's mother being clubbed to the ground. Her scream. 36 INT. BUILDER'S YARD. LATER. 36 Jamal wakes with a jolt and a scream half-swallowed in his mouth. He shuts his eyes tight, trying to force the image out. His breathing slows and he sees the girl staring at him. Salim, too, is staring into nothing. The rain is still falling. (CONTINUED) 24. 36 CONTINUED: 36 The girl goes back to drawing shapes in the mud with her finger. Jamal climbs out of the pipe. Looks at Salim for permission or refusal, but he just continues to stare. So, Jamal walks across to her. She looks up, wary. JAMAL Where's your Mother? Silence. JAMAL (CONT'D) Father? The girl shakes her head slightly. Jamal takes the plastic sheet from around his shoulders. Gives it to her. JAMAL (CONT'D) I'm Jamal. He's Salim. LATIKA Latika. Jamal goes back to his water pipe, climbs in. Watches her huddled under the sheet. Sighs, motions for her to join him. She darts across, jumps into the water pipe and huddles up next to Jamal. 37 INT. INSPECTOR'S OFFICE. DAY. 37 Jamal looks at the Inspector. JAMAL I wake up every morning wishing I didn't know the answer to that question? If it wasn't for Ram and Allah, I would still have a Mother. 38 INT. STUDIO. NIGHT 38 JAMAL D) A bow and arrow. PREM Final answer? JAMAL Final answer. Prem stares at him for dramatic effect. Presses his computer. PREM Computer-ji, D lock kiya-jaye. (CONTINUED) 25. 38 CONTINUED: 38 The lights dim, the music swells. PREM (CONT'D) Jamal Malik, you answered D? Ram is depicted with a bow and arrow in his hand. And guess what? You've just won sixteen thousand rupees! Well done, my friend. Time for a commercial break- don't go away, now. Music, applause. Prem switches off his professional smile. Gets up. PREM (CONT'D) Got lucky, huh? I'd take the money. You'll never get the next one. JAMAL You're from the Juhu slum, aren't you? PREM Hmm? Sure. Know where I live now, kid? Pali Hill. Twelve bedrooms, a/c in every room, two kitchens, a gym and a screening room. Steel balls is what it takes, my friend, steel balls. The Floor Manager comes over and gives his head-phones set to Prem. Prem listens. DIRECTOR V/O Prem? Tone it down, for goodness sake. You're making him a laughing stock. Prem glances up at the gallery with contempt. PREM We're having fun here. They love it...Where the hell do you get them from? He makes no attempt to hide the conversation from Jamal. DIRECTOR V/O It's supposed to be a quiz show, not a blood sport. FLOOR MANAGER Two minutes. (CONTINUED) 26. 38 CONTINUED: (2) 38 PREM Stop wetting your pants. I'll be a good little boy with the next one. Promise. He chucks the head-phones back at the Floor Manager. Glances in the wings. Sees Nita, the make-up woman. Gets up and goes over. 39 INT. STUDIO. BACKSTAGE. NIGHT. 39 In the half-light, backstage, Nita dabs his face with powder. PREM Meet me after the show. Please. NITA No. PREM Nita, I can explain. NITA No need. I read it in bloody Stardust. Didn't even have the balls to tell me. "Prem's happiness with another baby on the way". After everything you said... PREM Baby, it all happened before I met you. I swear to you. NITA She's got the gestation period of an elephant, then. Prem is about to object. But instead, he laughs. PREM You see? Amidst all this misery, only you can make me laugh. Scornful but hints of melting. NITA All this misery... PREM Her and I- nothing. You have to believe me, baby... Nita turns away. The Floor Manager comes over. FLOOR MANAGER One minute. (CONTINUED) 27. 39 CONTINUED: 39 Prem slings himself in a chair. PREM No. I'm not going on. NITA Prem... PREM I can't. Without you, it's all pointless. Clicks his fingers at the Floor Manager. PREM (CONT'D) You. Tell the Director. Nita shakes her head at the Floor Manager who by now is looking very worried. FLOOR MANAGER Thirty seconds. Prem shrugs and folds his arms. Sees her weaken. NITA Prem... PREM Calypso Bar, private room, just you and me? FLOOR MANAGER Fifteen. NITA (furious) Alright. He grins, jumps up, blows her a kiss, and stalks back on stage. 40 INT. STUDIO. NIGHT. 40 He sits back down, says almost to himself. PREM Steel balls. Turns to Jamal. PREM (CONT'D) Okay, Juhu boy, you've had a good run. Take your Mother to Khandala and eat some chiki. JAMAL My Mother's dead. (CONTINUED) 28. 40 CONTINUED: 40 PREM Well, your girlfriend then. Even better. JAMAL I don't have a girl-friend. PREM Live wire like you? You surprise me. FLOOR MANAGER Five, four... The warm-up man starts the applause. TALKBACK V/O ....three, two, one... Cheering and music. Prem switches on his charm. PREM Welcome back to Who Wants to be a Millionaire! Our contestant, Jamal Malik, Call Centre Assistant- from Mumbai, is on sixteen thousand rupees and has already used one lifeline: Ask the Audience. So, my friend: are you ready for the next question? JAMAL Yes. PREM Then, let's play. Portentous music. The lights dim. PREM (CONT'D) For sixty-four thousand rupees. The British architect Frederick Stevens designed which famous building in India? Is it: A) The Taj Mahal. B) Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus. C) India Gate. D) Howrah Bridge. What do you think, Jamal? Are you one of those tea-boys with a penchant for architecture? 41 INT. CHHATRAPATI SHIVAJI TERMINUS. DAY. 41 Known to everyone as VT station, this monument to Victorian railway architecture is a dangerous place to be at rush hour. (CONTINUED) 29. 41 CONTINUED: 41 Even before the train has stopped, men are jumping from the open doors, or vaulting out of the windows or from the roof of the train to join the tens of thousands of Mumbaites streaming to and from work. A seventeen-year old Jamal squeezes himself out of a train and shoves through the crowds. He checks the time. The digital numerals flick to five O'clock. Looks around the tide of humanity. 42 INT. STUDIO. NIGHT. 42 PREM So, what's it to be? Walk away and this cheque for sixteen thousand rupees is yours. Look, it's even got your name on it. He produces a cheque and waves it at Jamal. JAMAL I don't have a bank account. Laughter from the audience. Prem is momentarily wrong- footed. JAMAL (CONT'D) But I'll take cash. More laughter, this time with Jamal, rather than at him. Prem gets up and starts rummaging theatrically through his jacket pockets and trousers. PREM Nope. Looks like the Producer's stolen my wallet again- JAMAL - I'll play. Nobody was expecting this. Least of all Prem who has to rearrange his features into one of surprised delight. He sits down. PREM You'll play? JAMAL Why not? PREM Well, well, well. We've got a wild one, here. Prem tears up the cheque with theatrical slowness. (CONTINUED) 30. 42 CONTINUED: 42 PREM (CONT'D) For sixty-four thousand rupees, Ladies and Gentlemen, the question once again.... 43 INT. CHHATRAPATI SHIVAJI TERMINUS. DAY. 43 The digital clocks show five fifteen. Shoving the descending river of people out of his way, the eighteen year-old Jamal is forging a path up steps that cross the platforms. He pushes to the middle of the footbridge and leans out on the side railings. He scans the sea of people, desperately. Then he sees her: the eighteen year-old Latika, heart-stoppingly beautiful, over the other side of the station. A world away. She is scanning the crowd, as wired as he is. JAMAL Latika! Latika! But though he is screaming her name, his voice is swallowed by the noise around him. Then he sees two thuggish-looking men also fighting a way towards her. JAMAL (CONT'D) Latika! Frightened now, he fights his way down the steps, one figure against an army of white-robed people. JAMAL (CONT'D) Latika! JAMAL V/O Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus. PREM V/O Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus. Sure? JAMAL V/O I think so. PREM V/O You think so. A brave man, Ladies and Gentlemen, a brave man. 44 INT. CHHATRAPATI SHIVAJI TERMINUS. DAY. 44 The commuters have mostly gone. Jamal is pacing the platform desperately. He stops, stares blankly at the statue in front of him- a proud, rather pompous figure in a Victorian frock coat. The plaque reads: Frederick Stevens. 31. 45 INT. INSPECTOR'S OFFICE. NIGHT. 45 The Inspector, Srinivas and Jamal are staring at the video recorder. JAMAL Yes. Final answer. Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus. PREM Is the right answer! Sixty-four thousand rupees to you, Sir! Applause and music. The Inspector presses pause. Stares at Jamal. INSPECTOR And did she come back? Jamal smiles sadly. JAMAL I wouldn't be here if she had. INSPECTOR Pretty was she? Jamal stares down at his feet. INSPECTOR (CONT'D) Guess not. Right in the eyes. JAMAL The most beautiful woman in the world. Constable Srinivas snorts. Suddenly, Jamal is out of his chair and at Srinivas' throat. The combined force of the Inspector and Srinivas force him roughly back down. He is again handcuffed to the chair. INSPECTOR OF POLICE Well, well. The slum dog barks. Money or women. The reason for most mistakes in life. Looks like you got mixed up with both. Srinivas, you need the exercise: a trip to VT Station to check on the statue. And lock your bloody bike up. Constable Srinivas swears under his breath but bumbles out. (CONTINUED) 32. 45 CONTINUED: 45 INSPECTOR That's the chutiy out the way. Now, man to man. How did you know all the answers? JAMAL If I knew, I'd tell you. 46 OMITTED 46 47 OMITTED 47 48 INT. STUDIO. NIGHT. 48 PREM Now we're into the serious money. For two hundred and fifty thousand rupees, ladies and gentlemen, a quarter of a million rupees...the song Chalo Ri Murali was written by which famous Indian poet. Was it A) Surdas. B) Tulsidas. C) Mira Bai. D) Kabir. Remember you still have two lifelines- fifty- fifty and Phone A Friend. Tempted to use one? JAMAL No. PREM No? JAMAL I know this one. PREM Oh. I see. An expert on the poets, huh? The lights dim, the music swells and Prem presses his computer. 49 EXT. MUMBAI STREET. NIGHT. 49 Jamal is studying a piece of paper and reading out numbers from it. There is something not quite right about Jamal- perhaps the fact that there are two feet by his ears. Salim is standing on his shoulders and spraying the numbers on a wall with an aerosol and a certain lack of confidence. (CONTINUED) 33. 49 CONTINUED: 49 JAMAL Four, nine, zero, nine- the one with the stick going down, Salim- six- stick going up- Latika's head appears from around the corner. LATIKA (whispered) Oi! But they don't hear. Then she is running for her life past the pair of them. JAMAL Six, one, shit, let's go- Salim collapses off Jamal's shoulders and all three run off down an alley past a dozen of the gang's sprayed-on adverts all reading: "Beanbags- 989 4909661". A fat Security Guard with a long stick huffs round the corner. Chases them up an alley. Nowhere to go except through an imposing gate that clearly leads to a private house. SECURITY GUARD Got you now, little shits. 50 EXT. GARDEN. NIGHT. 50 They charge across the lawn, down one side of the house where all the washing is hanging. The Guard gets caught up in drying sheets, towels. He fights his way through to see Salim, Latika and Jamal leaping over the wall to safety. But Jamal turns, jumps back and grabs a girl's dress from the line. SECURITY GUARD Aha! Little thief! The Security Guard lands a couple of blows on Jamal's back as he dodges around him and back across the lawn, dress in hand. The Security Guard gives up. SECURITY GUARD (CONT'D) Pervert! 51 INT. ALLEY. NIGHT. 51 Jamal is examing the bruises on his legs. SALIM Useless bloody look-out. What good is she, huh? (CONTINUED) 34. 51 CONTINUED: 51 LATIKA (infuriated) I tried to warn you. JAMAL It's okay, Salim. Latika slips on the dress. Spins. Both of them look up. Stare. She pulls her hair back, smiles, is transformed into a beautiful girl. 52 EXT. GORAI BEACH DUMPING GROUND. DAY. 52 Blazing sun. Diggers and trucks are shifting mounds of rubble on a rubbish dump that seems to stretch for ever. Oblivious to the dust kicked up by the trucks, Latika is picking up old plastic bags, examining each one and putting the less worn in a big sack. The dress is recognisable but dusty and torn. She stoops to dig another bag out of the dirt, but stops and stares. Shimmering in the heat, a rickety pick-up truck comes through the rubbish dump gates. Toots at the Guard who waves, pulls up in the dump. "Hope Orphanage is written on the side of the van. A man gets out. Looks around. 53 INT. `TENT'. DAY. 53 Under sheets of plastic propped up on sticks, Jamal and Salim are sleeping out the hottest part of the day. Jamal wakes to see a figure standing over him- a silhouette with a halo of sun behind him. Out of his bag, the man produces a bottle of Thumbs Up. He uncaps it with an alluring hiss. It is almost an advert for thirst-quenching affluence. Almost instinctively, Salim and Jamal stir. MAN Hello. He hands the bottle to Salim, gets another from his bag and waves it questioningly at Jamal. MAN (CONT'D) Hot, huh? My name is Maman. 54 EXT. ORPHANAGE. EVENING. 54 The hills on the edge of Bombay. Greenery and space, for the first time in the film. The pick-up truck pulls up outside a building with Jamal, Salim and Latika sitting on a bench in the back. Maman gets out. Drops the gate on the back of the pick-up. MAMAN Anyone hungry? Come on in. 35. 55 INT. ORPHANAGE COURTYARD. EVENING. 55 Twenty children are eating at long benches in a ramshackle courtyard. Maman, ushers Jamal, Salim and Latika in and sits them down at one of the benches. He waves a hand and a giant man, Punnoose, comes over with a big bowl of food. The three tear into it. Cleaning every last morsel of rice from his plate, Jamal looks up and notices a table peopled entirely with blind or crippled children. Some of the legless are eating on the floor next to the table. Jamal leans over to Salim. JAMAL He must be a very good man to look after these people. SALIM (glancing at them) A saint. Arvind, a boy smaller than either Jamal or Salim overhears. ARVIND We're not allowed to talk to them. LATIKA Why not? Arvind shrugs. Latika licks her plate, glances at Maman who is looking right at them. LATIKA (CONT'D) Well, if there are seconds, Maman is definitely a Saint. As if telepathic, Maman signals to Punnoose and he brings a large bowl of rice and dhal over to them. Latika looks at Jamal and Salim. They burst out laughing. LATIKA (CONT'D) I tell you, Lord Siva is with us. 56 INT. ORPHANAGE. EVENING. 56 Salim, Latika, Jamal and a group of children are standing in a line singing a doha- ancient lyrics set to music. Maman is leading the singing, walking up and down the line listening to each one individually. He stops at one small boy, Arvind, and listens. Nods his head, pleased, and continues down the line until he stops in front of Jamal. Holds up his hand. MAMAN Stop! You. Again. (CONTINUED) 36. 56 CONTINUED: 56 Jamal starts singing again. He has the sweetest of voices. Untrained but pure. Maman smiles, ruffles Jamal's hair, impressed. MAMAN (CONT'D) Everyone. They all join in. Maman continues down the line. He stops at Salim whose octave-slipping singing is lusty and appallingly out of tune. Maman winces and moves on. Standing next to Salim, Latika giggles. Immediately, Salim is on her. Before a fight breaks out, Punnoose pulls Salim off Latika and hurls him across the room. Salim gets up and charges at Punnoose. For a second, Punnoose is back-footed, but then pins Salim's arms to his side. Maman laughs. Approaches Salim. MAMAN (CONT'D) You sing like one, and you fight like one. I think you've found your dog, Punnoose. 57 EXT. CENTRAL MUMBAI TRAFFIC. DAY. 57 A group of children are sitting in the jumble of concrete under a motorway flyover. Cars surround them, bumper to bumper. Latika and Jamal are playing an improvised hopscotch on concrete slabs. They are giggling, bumping into each other, tickling, laughing. Salim and Punnoose are sitting together, smoking. Salim is staring hard at Jamal and Latika until Punnoose grunts, a sign for Salim to clap his hands. SALIM Okay, let's go, let's go! It's not a bloody holiday! The children get to their feet. Latika sighs, puts a patch over her eye and grabs a pair of crutches. Suddenly, the lame beggar. Salim goes over to one of the girls, who is carrying a sleeping baby. Puts out his hand. SALIM (CONT'D) Give me that. The girl shakes her head. Salim grabs her by the hair in one hand and takes the baby with the other. He shoves her to the ground. The other children stare. JAMAL Hey, Salim! He challenges Jamal. SALIM What, chot bhai? You got a problem? (CONTINUED) 37. 57 CONTINUED: 57 He laughs and walks over to Latika. SALIM (CONT'D) Here. For you. LATIKA I don't want it. SALIM You'll earn double. I'm doing you a favour, Latika. JAMAL She doesn't want it. SALIM Chup, Jamal. Latika turns away and begins to walk towards the cars. SALIM (CONT'D) I'll drop it. He holds the baby up. Latika grabs the baby with a cry just as Salim releases it from his hands. Salim pinches the baby. SALIM (CONT'D) Triple if it's crying. Latika snatches it away. Salim laughs, goes back to sitting with Punnoose. The children scatter to the cars trapped at the lights, tapping plaintively on the windows and making the universal begging gesture. 58 INT. ORPHANAGE. KITCHEN. NIGHT. 58 Surrounded by beer bottles, Punnoose is slumped asleep by the kitchen door. Latika edges past, avoids the cook sleeping under the table and goes to a shelf laden with vegetables. She pulls down a bunch of chillies still on the vine, strips a few off and tip-toes out with them. 59 INT. ORPHANAGE. DORMITORY. NIGHT. 59 Sleeping children, three or four to a mattress on the floor. Latika tip-toes around the mattresses. She pauses over one in particular where we see Salim, asleep. She carefully pulls up the sheet, delves underneath. Pleasant dreams cross Salim's sleeping face for a second. Then suddenly, he is bolt upright and screaming. He charges around the room clutching his genitals in agony. SALIM Madher chod...! (CONTINUED) 38. 59 CONTINUED: 59 He sprints out of the room, wailing. 60 INT. ORPHANAGE. SHOWERS. NIGHT. 60 The lights are on and two dozen children are screaming with laughter as Salim stands under the make-shift shower directing the water down his pants to his burning genitals, his face a picture of agony. Latika wipes crushed chillies from her hands. SALIM You're dead, sala. She smiles and walks past Jamal with a shrug. Then Punnoose comes stalking in and the children scatter away. PUNNOOSE Get back to bed, dogs! What the hell... JAMAL V/O They taught me every song in the history of Indian music. INSPECTOR V/O And why would they do that, I wonder? 61 INT. SHACK. NIGHT. 61 In a shack, Arvind is singing one of Surdas' bhajans in front of Maman and an old man who by his ragged appearance must be a villager. Punnoose and Salim sit behind Arvind. MAMAN Very good, very good. I am pleased, Arvind. He is ready. ARVIND Ready? Maman nods to Punnoose. Before Arvind can turn round, Punnoose has covered his mouth with a cloth and after the briefest of struggles, Arvind's body goes limp. The villager puts an old tin box on the table. Taking the lid from the tin, he brings out a cloth and unwraps it. Inside is a spoon. He checks the edge with his thumb. Sharp. Douses it with a clear liquid from a bottle and passes it over a candle flame. The spoon whooshes with a high flame for a moment. The villager wipes it with the cloth nods to Punnoose. PUNNOOSE Salim! (CONTINUED) 39. 61 CONTINUED: 61 Utterly bemused, Salim nevertheless helps Punnoose lay Arvind on the table. The villager takes hold of Arvind's eyelid and pulls it open. He brings the spoon close. Suddenly, Salim is being sick in the corner of the shack. By the time he has turned back, the villager is wiping the spoon on a blood-soaked rag. MAMAN Okay. Take him out the back. Punnoose picks up Arvind and carries him out. MAMAN (CONT'D) Now the other one. Salim, go get Jamal. A frozen moment. SALIM What? MAMAN Gunfighter Number One, isn't that right, Salim? The money, the women, the cars...you want them bad, huh? And why not? Maman gets out of his chair. Approaches Salim. MAMAN (CONT'D) The time has come to choose, yaar. The life of a slum dog or the life of a man. A real man. A gunfighter, Salim. Maman holds Salim's head in his hands. MAMAN (CONT'D) Your destiny is in your hands, bhai. You can be me. Or nobody. Understand? SALIM Yes, Maman. Maman nods. MAMAN So, brother, go get Jamal. Salim is frozen for another few seconds, then turns and walks out of the door. Punnoose appears at the door. Maman nods to him and he slips off after Salim. 62 INT. DORMITORY, ORPHANAGE. NIGHT. 62 All the children are asleep apart from Jamal who is crouched underneath a couple of wash-basins. (CONTINUED) 40. 62 CONTINUED: 62 He is talking through a plate-sized hole in the crumbling masonry. Latika's eyes can be seen. JAMAL ...weddings, government things, big parties. If Maman says my voice is ready. Big money. LATIKA Enough for a room? JAMAL Easily. Maybe an apartment. LATIKA Really? JAMAL That's what Arvind said. On Harbour Road. You, me and Salim. The three musketeers. LATIKA Harbour Road! We can have ice cream from Babanji's. JAMAL Every day if we want. Salim appears at the door. Nods his head at Jamal. JAMAL (CONT'D) It's my turn. LATIKA Good luck, Jamal. Latika's hand comes through the gap. Jamal takes it for a moment. Salim hisses at Jamal. He lets go of the hand and heads out. 63 EXT. PATH. NIGHT. 63 Salim and Jamal walk along the path, Jamal humming happily. Salim checks behind him, sees Punnoose following. JAMAL So, this is it, hey, bhai? The good life, here we come.... SALIM (conversationally) Athos. Jamal is suddenly alert. Slows (CONTINUED) 41. 63 CONTINUED: 63 JAMAL Porthos? Salim nods. Big smile. Puts a hand on Jamal's shoulder. SALIM When I say. 64 INT. SHACK. NIGHT. 64 Salim guides Jamal into the shack where Maman and the Villager are waiting. Maman smiles. Punnoose slips in behind Salim. MAMAN Jamal, hello. You have done well. It's time for you to- turn professional. JAMAL Really? MAMAN Sing me a song, yaar. How about Chalo Ri Murali, huh? My favourite. Jamal opens his mouth, then closes it again. Holds out his hand. JAMAL Fifty rupees. MAMAN What? JAMAL (shrugs) I've turned professional. What can I do? Maman laughs. MAMAN Sala...! He throws some notes at him. 65 EXT. SHACK. NIGHT. 65 Outside, a giggle. Latika is peering through a gap in the wall. 42. 66 INT. SHACK. NIGHT. 66 Jamal begins to sing. Maman waits a while, then nods to Punnoose. Behind Jamal, Punnoose hands Salim the bottle of chloroform and the rag. Salim approaches the back of Jamal. Salim waits until he has finished the song. Raises his hand with the rag in it. Maman smiles, nods. Salim flings the contents of the bottle in Punnoose's face. Punnoose screams and stumbles back clutching his eyes, knocking over the table. SALIM Go! Salim and Jamal scramble for the door. The knocked-over candle catches the spilled chloroform and a curtain which whooshes up in flame. LATIKA Jamal! JAMAL Run! 66A EXT. SHACK. NIGHT. 66A They charge past the prone Arvind- a flash of bloodied bandages covering his eyes. 67 EXT. HILLSIDE. NIGHT. 67 Heavy, desperate breathing. Feet stumble on roots. Fall into holes. The three children are running. Branches smack into their faces. But they are so scared, nothing will stop them. Behind them, torches scour the undergrowth. Men shouting. They break out of the woods and are confronted with a train goods yard. 68 EXT. GOODS YARD. NIGHT. 68 They run over the tracks, between the trains, but the shouts are getting louder, the torches closer. A diesel engine is moving out of the station. Jamal, Latika and Salim sprint for the Guard's Van at the very back of the moving train. Punnoose is closest to them. Salim is fastest and first to jump the train. He holds out his hand. Jamal grabs it and is hauled in. Jamal holds his hand out to Latika. JAMAL Come on! Faster! She reaches out to him. Their hands almost touch. (CONTINUED) 43. 68 CONTINUED: 68 JAMAL (CONT'D) Take it! Take it! I can't reach... Salim barges Jamal out of the way. Jamal stumbles back as Salim reaches his hand out to Latika, so he doesn't see Latika's hand grasp Salim's, nor see their eyes lock onto each other, nor see Salim very deliberately let go of her hand. Latika stumbles. LATIKA Jamal! Jamal scrambles to the rail. The train gains more speed. Jamal climbs on to the top rung, makes to jump, but Salim flings him backward. Jamal tries to scramble to his feet again, but Salim restrains him. JAMAL Got to go back. We've got to go back. SALIM He'll kill us if we go back. Jamal! He was going to take your eyes out- with a bloody spoon! The train is speeding along. Jamal breaks free and stares back at Latika. SALIM (CONT'D) She'll be alright. She always is. Latika stumbles again and stops running. They watch as Punnoose catches up with her and stops running. He smashes Latika to the ground. 69 INT. STUDIO. NIGHT. 69 PREM The question was, for two hundred and fifty thousand rupees: who wrote the famous song Chalo Ri Murali. I should warn you, Jamal: from this question on, if you get the answer wrong you lose everything. So. Are you sure? The life-lines are there.... JAMAL Surdas. PREM Surdas. Apka final jawab? (CONTINUED) 44. 69 CONTINUED: 69 JAMAL Yes. PREM Computer-ji, A lock kiya-jaye. The lights dim, the music swells. Prem presses a button on his computer: looks him straight in the eyes for an age. PREM (CONT'D) (simply) Guess what? You're right. Applause, music, lights. 70 INT. INSPECTOR'S OFFICE. DAY. 70 The Inspector is eying Jamal, weighing it all up. JAMAL (shrugging) Blind singers earn double. You know that. INSPECTOR And what happened to the girl? They blinded her too? JAMAL (shakes his head) They had other plans. Though it took me a long, long time to find out. 71 EXT. TRAIN. MORNING. 71 Salim and Jamal are sitting on top of the train. Jamal is staring blankly down the track. SALIM Ar , Jamal... Salim puts an arm around Jamal's shoulder. Jamal wipes the tears from his eyes, shakes his head furiously. Salim gets up. Holds out his hand. SALIM (CONT'D) Come. JAMAL Where you going? SALIM First class, bhai. Where else? 45.

run

How many times the word 'run' appears in the text?

to a colleague. Puts out his cigarette with purpose. JAMAL Let's go, bhai. Salim and Jamal run. The girl follows. 22. 33 EXT. MUMBAI. EVENING. 33 Salim and Jamal stand on a hill overlooking the city. Black smoke billows from a large area that is clearly the Juhu slum. Standing a little way off is the girl. JAMAL We should go back. Silence. JAMAL (CONT'D) See if Ama- Salim shakes his head fiercely, silencing Jamal for a moment. But only a moment. JAMAL (CONT'D) What about Jeevan Chacha? Salim shakes his head. JAMAL (CONT'D) Maybe he- Salim shakes his head again. SALIM - I saw him. He was with them. JAMAL But he wouldn't hurt- SALIM - he was with them! JAMAL But- SALIM - shut up, Jamal, can't you? Just shut up! Salim turns away and sees the girl. Picks up a rock and hurls it at her. She dodges, takes a couple of steps back but makes no real attempt to get away. He finds another rock and hurls this in her direction too. SALIM (CONT'D) Ja! Then a flash of lightning and thunder rumbles across the city. Rain begins to come down. JAMAL What shall we do? (CONTINUED) 23. 33 CONTINUED: 33 No answer. Jamal sits down. Salim sits down. At a distance, the girl sits down. Rain pours down their faces. 34 INT. BUILDER'S YARD. NIGHT. 34 Rain as you've never seen. A pile of huge water pipes in a sprawling builder's yard. Jamal is in one pipe, Salim above him in another. They are both soaked, shivering, but have found some plastic sheet to wrap themselves in. Outside, thirty feet away, stands the girl. Staring. Salim hisses angrily at the girl. SALIM Go away. Ja, ja! The girl might not even have heard. SALIM (CONT'D) She'll have the Security Guard onto us, standing there. JAMAL Not if we let her in. SALIM No. JAMAL She could be the third musketeer. SALIM I am the head of this family, now. And I say no. Piss off, you. Salim huddles down in the pipe. After a while, Jamal follows suit. SALIM (CONT'D) We don't even know what the third musketeer's called. 35 EXT. JUHU SLUM. DAY 35 A flash of Jamal's mother being clubbed to the ground. Her scream. 36 INT. BUILDER'S YARD. LATER. 36 Jamal wakes with a jolt and a scream half-swallowed in his mouth. He shuts his eyes tight, trying to force the image out. His breathing slows and he sees the girl staring at him. Salim, too, is staring into nothing. The rain is still falling. (CONTINUED) 24. 36 CONTINUED: 36 The girl goes back to drawing shapes in the mud with her finger. Jamal climbs out of the pipe. Looks at Salim for permission or refusal, but he just continues to stare. So, Jamal walks across to her. She looks up, wary. JAMAL Where's your Mother? Silence. JAMAL (CONT'D) Father? The girl shakes her head slightly. Jamal takes the plastic sheet from around his shoulders. Gives it to her. JAMAL (CONT'D) I'm Jamal. He's Salim. LATIKA Latika. Jamal goes back to his water pipe, climbs in. Watches her huddled under the sheet. Sighs, motions for her to join him. She darts across, jumps into the water pipe and huddles up next to Jamal. 37 INT. INSPECTOR'S OFFICE. DAY. 37 Jamal looks at the Inspector. JAMAL I wake up every morning wishing I didn't know the answer to that question? If it wasn't for Ram and Allah, I would still have a Mother. 38 INT. STUDIO. NIGHT 38 JAMAL D) A bow and arrow. PREM Final answer? JAMAL Final answer. Prem stares at him for dramatic effect. Presses his computer. PREM Computer-ji, D lock kiya-jaye. (CONTINUED) 25. 38 CONTINUED: 38 The lights dim, the music swells. PREM (CONT'D) Jamal Malik, you answered D? Ram is depicted with a bow and arrow in his hand. And guess what? You've just won sixteen thousand rupees! Well done, my friend. Time for a commercial break- don't go away, now. Music, applause. Prem switches off his professional smile. Gets up. PREM (CONT'D) Got lucky, huh? I'd take the money. You'll never get the next one. JAMAL You're from the Juhu slum, aren't you? PREM Hmm? Sure. Know where I live now, kid? Pali Hill. Twelve bedrooms, a/c in every room, two kitchens, a gym and a screening room. Steel balls is what it takes, my friend, steel balls. The Floor Manager comes over and gives his head-phones set to Prem. Prem listens. DIRECTOR V/O Prem? Tone it down, for goodness sake. You're making him a laughing stock. Prem glances up at the gallery with contempt. PREM We're having fun here. They love it...Where the hell do you get them from? He makes no attempt to hide the conversation from Jamal. DIRECTOR V/O It's supposed to be a quiz show, not a blood sport. FLOOR MANAGER Two minutes. (CONTINUED) 26. 38 CONTINUED: (2) 38 PREM Stop wetting your pants. I'll be a good little boy with the next one. Promise. He chucks the head-phones back at the Floor Manager. Glances in the wings. Sees Nita, the make-up woman. Gets up and goes over. 39 INT. STUDIO. BACKSTAGE. NIGHT. 39 In the half-light, backstage, Nita dabs his face with powder. PREM Meet me after the show. Please. NITA No. PREM Nita, I can explain. NITA No need. I read it in bloody Stardust. Didn't even have the balls to tell me. "Prem's happiness with another baby on the way". After everything you said... PREM Baby, it all happened before I met you. I swear to you. NITA She's got the gestation period of an elephant, then. Prem is about to object. But instead, he laughs. PREM You see? Amidst all this misery, only you can make me laugh. Scornful but hints of melting. NITA All this misery... PREM Her and I- nothing. You have to believe me, baby... Nita turns away. The Floor Manager comes over. FLOOR MANAGER One minute. (CONTINUED) 27. 39 CONTINUED: 39 Prem slings himself in a chair. PREM No. I'm not going on. NITA Prem... PREM I can't. Without you, it's all pointless. Clicks his fingers at the Floor Manager. PREM (CONT'D) You. Tell the Director. Nita shakes her head at the Floor Manager who by now is looking very worried. FLOOR MANAGER Thirty seconds. Prem shrugs and folds his arms. Sees her weaken. NITA Prem... PREM Calypso Bar, private room, just you and me? FLOOR MANAGER Fifteen. NITA (furious) Alright. He grins, jumps up, blows her a kiss, and stalks back on stage. 40 INT. STUDIO. NIGHT. 40 He sits back down, says almost to himself. PREM Steel balls. Turns to Jamal. PREM (CONT'D) Okay, Juhu boy, you've had a good run. Take your Mother to Khandala and eat some chiki. JAMAL My Mother's dead. (CONTINUED) 28. 40 CONTINUED: 40 PREM Well, your girlfriend then. Even better. JAMAL I don't have a girl-friend. PREM Live wire like you? You surprise me. FLOOR MANAGER Five, four... The warm-up man starts the applause. TALKBACK V/O ....three, two, one... Cheering and music. Prem switches on his charm. PREM Welcome back to Who Wants to be a Millionaire! Our contestant, Jamal Malik, Call Centre Assistant- from Mumbai, is on sixteen thousand rupees and has already used one lifeline: Ask the Audience. So, my friend: are you ready for the next question? JAMAL Yes. PREM Then, let's play. Portentous music. The lights dim. PREM (CONT'D) For sixty-four thousand rupees. The British architect Frederick Stevens designed which famous building in India? Is it: A) The Taj Mahal. B) Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus. C) India Gate. D) Howrah Bridge. What do you think, Jamal? Are you one of those tea-boys with a penchant for architecture? 41 INT. CHHATRAPATI SHIVAJI TERMINUS. DAY. 41 Known to everyone as VT station, this monument to Victorian railway architecture is a dangerous place to be at rush hour. (CONTINUED) 29. 41 CONTINUED: 41 Even before the train has stopped, men are jumping from the open doors, or vaulting out of the windows or from the roof of the train to join the tens of thousands of Mumbaites streaming to and from work. A seventeen-year old Jamal squeezes himself out of a train and shoves through the crowds. He checks the time. The digital numerals flick to five O'clock. Looks around the tide of humanity. 42 INT. STUDIO. NIGHT. 42 PREM So, what's it to be? Walk away and this cheque for sixteen thousand rupees is yours. Look, it's even got your name on it. He produces a cheque and waves it at Jamal. JAMAL I don't have a bank account. Laughter from the audience. Prem is momentarily wrong- footed. JAMAL (CONT'D) But I'll take cash. More laughter, this time with Jamal, rather than at him. Prem gets up and starts rummaging theatrically through his jacket pockets and trousers. PREM Nope. Looks like the Producer's stolen my wallet again- JAMAL - I'll play. Nobody was expecting this. Least of all Prem who has to rearrange his features into one of surprised delight. He sits down. PREM You'll play? JAMAL Why not? PREM Well, well, well. We've got a wild one, here. Prem tears up the cheque with theatrical slowness. (CONTINUED) 30. 42 CONTINUED: 42 PREM (CONT'D) For sixty-four thousand rupees, Ladies and Gentlemen, the question once again.... 43 INT. CHHATRAPATI SHIVAJI TERMINUS. DAY. 43 The digital clocks show five fifteen. Shoving the descending river of people out of his way, the eighteen year-old Jamal is forging a path up steps that cross the platforms. He pushes to the middle of the footbridge and leans out on the side railings. He scans the sea of people, desperately. Then he sees her: the eighteen year-old Latika, heart-stoppingly beautiful, over the other side of the station. A world away. She is scanning the crowd, as wired as he is. JAMAL Latika! Latika! But though he is screaming her name, his voice is swallowed by the noise around him. Then he sees two thuggish-looking men also fighting a way towards her. JAMAL (CONT'D) Latika! Frightened now, he fights his way down the steps, one figure against an army of white-robed people. JAMAL (CONT'D) Latika! JAMAL V/O Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus. PREM V/O Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus. Sure? JAMAL V/O I think so. PREM V/O You think so. A brave man, Ladies and Gentlemen, a brave man. 44 INT. CHHATRAPATI SHIVAJI TERMINUS. DAY. 44 The commuters have mostly gone. Jamal is pacing the platform desperately. He stops, stares blankly at the statue in front of him- a proud, rather pompous figure in a Victorian frock coat. The plaque reads: Frederick Stevens. 31. 45 INT. INSPECTOR'S OFFICE. NIGHT. 45 The Inspector, Srinivas and Jamal are staring at the video recorder. JAMAL Yes. Final answer. Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus. PREM Is the right answer! Sixty-four thousand rupees to you, Sir! Applause and music. The Inspector presses pause. Stares at Jamal. INSPECTOR And did she come back? Jamal smiles sadly. JAMAL I wouldn't be here if she had. INSPECTOR Pretty was she? Jamal stares down at his feet. INSPECTOR (CONT'D) Guess not. Right in the eyes. JAMAL The most beautiful woman in the world. Constable Srinivas snorts. Suddenly, Jamal is out of his chair and at Srinivas' throat. The combined force of the Inspector and Srinivas force him roughly back down. He is again handcuffed to the chair. INSPECTOR OF POLICE Well, well. The slum dog barks. Money or women. The reason for most mistakes in life. Looks like you got mixed up with both. Srinivas, you need the exercise: a trip to VT Station to check on the statue. And lock your bloody bike up. Constable Srinivas swears under his breath but bumbles out. (CONTINUED) 32. 45 CONTINUED: 45 INSPECTOR That's the chutiy out the way. Now, man to man. How did you know all the answers? JAMAL If I knew, I'd tell you. 46 OMITTED 46 47 OMITTED 47 48 INT. STUDIO. NIGHT. 48 PREM Now we're into the serious money. For two hundred and fifty thousand rupees, ladies and gentlemen, a quarter of a million rupees...the song Chalo Ri Murali was written by which famous Indian poet. Was it A) Surdas. B) Tulsidas. C) Mira Bai. D) Kabir. Remember you still have two lifelines- fifty- fifty and Phone A Friend. Tempted to use one? JAMAL No. PREM No? JAMAL I know this one. PREM Oh. I see. An expert on the poets, huh? The lights dim, the music swells and Prem presses his computer. 49 EXT. MUMBAI STREET. NIGHT. 49 Jamal is studying a piece of paper and reading out numbers from it. There is something not quite right about Jamal- perhaps the fact that there are two feet by his ears. Salim is standing on his shoulders and spraying the numbers on a wall with an aerosol and a certain lack of confidence. (CONTINUED) 33. 49 CONTINUED: 49 JAMAL Four, nine, zero, nine- the one with the stick going down, Salim- six- stick going up- Latika's head appears from around the corner. LATIKA (whispered) Oi! But they don't hear. Then she is running for her life past the pair of them. JAMAL Six, one, shit, let's go- Salim collapses off Jamal's shoulders and all three run off down an alley past a dozen of the gang's sprayed-on adverts all reading: "Beanbags- 989 4909661". A fat Security Guard with a long stick huffs round the corner. Chases them up an alley. Nowhere to go except through an imposing gate that clearly leads to a private house. SECURITY GUARD Got you now, little shits. 50 EXT. GARDEN. NIGHT. 50 They charge across the lawn, down one side of the house where all the washing is hanging. The Guard gets caught up in drying sheets, towels. He fights his way through to see Salim, Latika and Jamal leaping over the wall to safety. But Jamal turns, jumps back and grabs a girl's dress from the line. SECURITY GUARD Aha! Little thief! The Security Guard lands a couple of blows on Jamal's back as he dodges around him and back across the lawn, dress in hand. The Security Guard gives up. SECURITY GUARD (CONT'D) Pervert! 51 INT. ALLEY. NIGHT. 51 Jamal is examing the bruises on his legs. SALIM Useless bloody look-out. What good is she, huh? (CONTINUED) 34. 51 CONTINUED: 51 LATIKA (infuriated) I tried to warn you. JAMAL It's okay, Salim. Latika slips on the dress. Spins. Both of them look up. Stare. She pulls her hair back, smiles, is transformed into a beautiful girl. 52 EXT. GORAI BEACH DUMPING GROUND. DAY. 52 Blazing sun. Diggers and trucks are shifting mounds of rubble on a rubbish dump that seems to stretch for ever. Oblivious to the dust kicked up by the trucks, Latika is picking up old plastic bags, examining each one and putting the less worn in a big sack. The dress is recognisable but dusty and torn. She stoops to dig another bag out of the dirt, but stops and stares. Shimmering in the heat, a rickety pick-up truck comes through the rubbish dump gates. Toots at the Guard who waves, pulls up in the dump. "Hope Orphanage is written on the side of the van. A man gets out. Looks around. 53 INT. `TENT'. DAY. 53 Under sheets of plastic propped up on sticks, Jamal and Salim are sleeping out the hottest part of the day. Jamal wakes to see a figure standing over him- a silhouette with a halo of sun behind him. Out of his bag, the man produces a bottle of Thumbs Up. He uncaps it with an alluring hiss. It is almost an advert for thirst-quenching affluence. Almost instinctively, Salim and Jamal stir. MAN Hello. He hands the bottle to Salim, gets another from his bag and waves it questioningly at Jamal. MAN (CONT'D) Hot, huh? My name is Maman. 54 EXT. ORPHANAGE. EVENING. 54 The hills on the edge of Bombay. Greenery and space, for the first time in the film. The pick-up truck pulls up outside a building with Jamal, Salim and Latika sitting on a bench in the back. Maman gets out. Drops the gate on the back of the pick-up. MAMAN Anyone hungry? Come on in. 35. 55 INT. ORPHANAGE COURTYARD. EVENING. 55 Twenty children are eating at long benches in a ramshackle courtyard. Maman, ushers Jamal, Salim and Latika in and sits them down at one of the benches. He waves a hand and a giant man, Punnoose, comes over with a big bowl of food. The three tear into it. Cleaning every last morsel of rice from his plate, Jamal looks up and notices a table peopled entirely with blind or crippled children. Some of the legless are eating on the floor next to the table. Jamal leans over to Salim. JAMAL He must be a very good man to look after these people. SALIM (glancing at them) A saint. Arvind, a boy smaller than either Jamal or Salim overhears. ARVIND We're not allowed to talk to them. LATIKA Why not? Arvind shrugs. Latika licks her plate, glances at Maman who is looking right at them. LATIKA (CONT'D) Well, if there are seconds, Maman is definitely a Saint. As if telepathic, Maman signals to Punnoose and he brings a large bowl of rice and dhal over to them. Latika looks at Jamal and Salim. They burst out laughing. LATIKA (CONT'D) I tell you, Lord Siva is with us. 56 INT. ORPHANAGE. EVENING. 56 Salim, Latika, Jamal and a group of children are standing in a line singing a doha- ancient lyrics set to music. Maman is leading the singing, walking up and down the line listening to each one individually. He stops at one small boy, Arvind, and listens. Nods his head, pleased, and continues down the line until he stops in front of Jamal. Holds up his hand. MAMAN Stop! You. Again. (CONTINUED) 36. 56 CONTINUED: 56 Jamal starts singing again. He has the sweetest of voices. Untrained but pure. Maman smiles, ruffles Jamal's hair, impressed. MAMAN (CONT'D) Everyone. They all join in. Maman continues down the line. He stops at Salim whose octave-slipping singing is lusty and appallingly out of tune. Maman winces and moves on. Standing next to Salim, Latika giggles. Immediately, Salim is on her. Before a fight breaks out, Punnoose pulls Salim off Latika and hurls him across the room. Salim gets up and charges at Punnoose. For a second, Punnoose is back-footed, but then pins Salim's arms to his side. Maman laughs. Approaches Salim. MAMAN (CONT'D) You sing like one, and you fight like one. I think you've found your dog, Punnoose. 57 EXT. CENTRAL MUMBAI TRAFFIC. DAY. 57 A group of children are sitting in the jumble of concrete under a motorway flyover. Cars surround them, bumper to bumper. Latika and Jamal are playing an improvised hopscotch on concrete slabs. They are giggling, bumping into each other, tickling, laughing. Salim and Punnoose are sitting together, smoking. Salim is staring hard at Jamal and Latika until Punnoose grunts, a sign for Salim to clap his hands. SALIM Okay, let's go, let's go! It's not a bloody holiday! The children get to their feet. Latika sighs, puts a patch over her eye and grabs a pair of crutches. Suddenly, the lame beggar. Salim goes over to one of the girls, who is carrying a sleeping baby. Puts out his hand. SALIM (CONT'D) Give me that. The girl shakes her head. Salim grabs her by the hair in one hand and takes the baby with the other. He shoves her to the ground. The other children stare. JAMAL Hey, Salim! He challenges Jamal. SALIM What, chot bhai? You got a problem? (CONTINUED) 37. 57 CONTINUED: 57 He laughs and walks over to Latika. SALIM (CONT'D) Here. For you. LATIKA I don't want it. SALIM You'll earn double. I'm doing you a favour, Latika. JAMAL She doesn't want it. SALIM Chup, Jamal. Latika turns away and begins to walk towards the cars. SALIM (CONT'D) I'll drop it. He holds the baby up. Latika grabs the baby with a cry just as Salim releases it from his hands. Salim pinches the baby. SALIM (CONT'D) Triple if it's crying. Latika snatches it away. Salim laughs, goes back to sitting with Punnoose. The children scatter to the cars trapped at the lights, tapping plaintively on the windows and making the universal begging gesture. 58 INT. ORPHANAGE. KITCHEN. NIGHT. 58 Surrounded by beer bottles, Punnoose is slumped asleep by the kitchen door. Latika edges past, avoids the cook sleeping under the table and goes to a shelf laden with vegetables. She pulls down a bunch of chillies still on the vine, strips a few off and tip-toes out with them. 59 INT. ORPHANAGE. DORMITORY. NIGHT. 59 Sleeping children, three or four to a mattress on the floor. Latika tip-toes around the mattresses. She pauses over one in particular where we see Salim, asleep. She carefully pulls up the sheet, delves underneath. Pleasant dreams cross Salim's sleeping face for a second. Then suddenly, he is bolt upright and screaming. He charges around the room clutching his genitals in agony. SALIM Madher chod...! (CONTINUED) 38. 59 CONTINUED: 59 He sprints out of the room, wailing. 60 INT. ORPHANAGE. SHOWERS. NIGHT. 60 The lights are on and two dozen children are screaming with laughter as Salim stands under the make-shift shower directing the water down his pants to his burning genitals, his face a picture of agony. Latika wipes crushed chillies from her hands. SALIM You're dead, sala. She smiles and walks past Jamal with a shrug. Then Punnoose comes stalking in and the children scatter away. PUNNOOSE Get back to bed, dogs! What the hell... JAMAL V/O They taught me every song in the history of Indian music. INSPECTOR V/O And why would they do that, I wonder? 61 INT. SHACK. NIGHT. 61 In a shack, Arvind is singing one of Surdas' bhajans in front of Maman and an old man who by his ragged appearance must be a villager. Punnoose and Salim sit behind Arvind. MAMAN Very good, very good. I am pleased, Arvind. He is ready. ARVIND Ready? Maman nods to Punnoose. Before Arvind can turn round, Punnoose has covered his mouth with a cloth and after the briefest of struggles, Arvind's body goes limp. The villager puts an old tin box on the table. Taking the lid from the tin, he brings out a cloth and unwraps it. Inside is a spoon. He checks the edge with his thumb. Sharp. Douses it with a clear liquid from a bottle and passes it over a candle flame. The spoon whooshes with a high flame for a moment. The villager wipes it with the cloth nods to Punnoose. PUNNOOSE Salim! (CONTINUED) 39. 61 CONTINUED: 61 Utterly bemused, Salim nevertheless helps Punnoose lay Arvind on the table. The villager takes hold of Arvind's eyelid and pulls it open. He brings the spoon close. Suddenly, Salim is being sick in the corner of the shack. By the time he has turned back, the villager is wiping the spoon on a blood-soaked rag. MAMAN Okay. Take him out the back. Punnoose picks up Arvind and carries him out. MAMAN (CONT'D) Now the other one. Salim, go get Jamal. A frozen moment. SALIM What? MAMAN Gunfighter Number One, isn't that right, Salim? The money, the women, the cars...you want them bad, huh? And why not? Maman gets out of his chair. Approaches Salim. MAMAN (CONT'D) The time has come to choose, yaar. The life of a slum dog or the life of a man. A real man. A gunfighter, Salim. Maman holds Salim's head in his hands. MAMAN (CONT'D) Your destiny is in your hands, bhai. You can be me. Or nobody. Understand? SALIM Yes, Maman. Maman nods. MAMAN So, brother, go get Jamal. Salim is frozen for another few seconds, then turns and walks out of the door. Punnoose appears at the door. Maman nods to him and he slips off after Salim. 62 INT. DORMITORY, ORPHANAGE. NIGHT. 62 All the children are asleep apart from Jamal who is crouched underneath a couple of wash-basins. (CONTINUED) 40. 62 CONTINUED: 62 He is talking through a plate-sized hole in the crumbling masonry. Latika's eyes can be seen. JAMAL ...weddings, government things, big parties. If Maman says my voice is ready. Big money. LATIKA Enough for a room? JAMAL Easily. Maybe an apartment. LATIKA Really? JAMAL That's what Arvind said. On Harbour Road. You, me and Salim. The three musketeers. LATIKA Harbour Road! We can have ice cream from Babanji's. JAMAL Every day if we want. Salim appears at the door. Nods his head at Jamal. JAMAL (CONT'D) It's my turn. LATIKA Good luck, Jamal. Latika's hand comes through the gap. Jamal takes it for a moment. Salim hisses at Jamal. He lets go of the hand and heads out. 63 EXT. PATH. NIGHT. 63 Salim and Jamal walk along the path, Jamal humming happily. Salim checks behind him, sees Punnoose following. JAMAL So, this is it, hey, bhai? The good life, here we come.... SALIM (conversationally) Athos. Jamal is suddenly alert. Slows (CONTINUED) 41. 63 CONTINUED: 63 JAMAL Porthos? Salim nods. Big smile. Puts a hand on Jamal's shoulder. SALIM When I say. 64 INT. SHACK. NIGHT. 64 Salim guides Jamal into the shack where Maman and the Villager are waiting. Maman smiles. Punnoose slips in behind Salim. MAMAN Jamal, hello. You have done well. It's time for you to- turn professional. JAMAL Really? MAMAN Sing me a song, yaar. How about Chalo Ri Murali, huh? My favourite. Jamal opens his mouth, then closes it again. Holds out his hand. JAMAL Fifty rupees. MAMAN What? JAMAL (shrugs) I've turned professional. What can I do? Maman laughs. MAMAN Sala...! He throws some notes at him. 65 EXT. SHACK. NIGHT. 65 Outside, a giggle. Latika is peering through a gap in the wall. 42. 66 INT. SHACK. NIGHT. 66 Jamal begins to sing. Maman waits a while, then nods to Punnoose. Behind Jamal, Punnoose hands Salim the bottle of chloroform and the rag. Salim approaches the back of Jamal. Salim waits until he has finished the song. Raises his hand with the rag in it. Maman smiles, nods. Salim flings the contents of the bottle in Punnoose's face. Punnoose screams and stumbles back clutching his eyes, knocking over the table. SALIM Go! Salim and Jamal scramble for the door. The knocked-over candle catches the spilled chloroform and a curtain which whooshes up in flame. LATIKA Jamal! JAMAL Run! 66A EXT. SHACK. NIGHT. 66A They charge past the prone Arvind- a flash of bloodied bandages covering his eyes. 67 EXT. HILLSIDE. NIGHT. 67 Heavy, desperate breathing. Feet stumble on roots. Fall into holes. The three children are running. Branches smack into their faces. But they are so scared, nothing will stop them. Behind them, torches scour the undergrowth. Men shouting. They break out of the woods and are confronted with a train goods yard. 68 EXT. GOODS YARD. NIGHT. 68 They run over the tracks, between the trains, but the shouts are getting louder, the torches closer. A diesel engine is moving out of the station. Jamal, Latika and Salim sprint for the Guard's Van at the very back of the moving train. Punnoose is closest to them. Salim is fastest and first to jump the train. He holds out his hand. Jamal grabs it and is hauled in. Jamal holds his hand out to Latika. JAMAL Come on! Faster! She reaches out to him. Their hands almost touch. (CONTINUED) 43. 68 CONTINUED: 68 JAMAL (CONT'D) Take it! Take it! I can't reach... Salim barges Jamal out of the way. Jamal stumbles back as Salim reaches his hand out to Latika, so he doesn't see Latika's hand grasp Salim's, nor see their eyes lock onto each other, nor see Salim very deliberately let go of her hand. Latika stumbles. LATIKA Jamal! Jamal scrambles to the rail. The train gains more speed. Jamal climbs on to the top rung, makes to jump, but Salim flings him backward. Jamal tries to scramble to his feet again, but Salim restrains him. JAMAL Got to go back. We've got to go back. SALIM He'll kill us if we go back. Jamal! He was going to take your eyes out- with a bloody spoon! The train is speeding along. Jamal breaks free and stares back at Latika. SALIM (CONT'D) She'll be alright. She always is. Latika stumbles again and stops running. They watch as Punnoose catches up with her and stops running. He smashes Latika to the ground. 69 INT. STUDIO. NIGHT. 69 PREM The question was, for two hundred and fifty thousand rupees: who wrote the famous song Chalo Ri Murali. I should warn you, Jamal: from this question on, if you get the answer wrong you lose everything. So. Are you sure? The life-lines are there.... JAMAL Surdas. PREM Surdas. Apka final jawab? (CONTINUED) 44. 69 CONTINUED: 69 JAMAL Yes. PREM Computer-ji, A lock kiya-jaye. The lights dim, the music swells. Prem presses a button on his computer: looks him straight in the eyes for an age. PREM (CONT'D) (simply) Guess what? You're right. Applause, music, lights. 70 INT. INSPECTOR'S OFFICE. DAY. 70 The Inspector is eying Jamal, weighing it all up. JAMAL (shrugging) Blind singers earn double. You know that. INSPECTOR And what happened to the girl? They blinded her too? JAMAL (shakes his head) They had other plans. Though it took me a long, long time to find out. 71 EXT. TRAIN. MORNING. 71 Salim and Jamal are sitting on top of the train. Jamal is staring blankly down the track. SALIM Ar , Jamal... Salim puts an arm around Jamal's shoulder. Jamal wipes the tears from his eyes, shakes his head furiously. Salim gets up. Holds out his hand. SALIM (CONT'D) Come. JAMAL Where you going? SALIM First class, bhai. Where else? 45.

hurls

How many times the word 'hurls' appears in the text?

to a colleague. Puts out his cigarette with purpose. JAMAL Let's go, bhai. Salim and Jamal run. The girl follows. 22. 33 EXT. MUMBAI. EVENING. 33 Salim and Jamal stand on a hill overlooking the city. Black smoke billows from a large area that is clearly the Juhu slum. Standing a little way off is the girl. JAMAL We should go back. Silence. JAMAL (CONT'D) See if Ama- Salim shakes his head fiercely, silencing Jamal for a moment. But only a moment. JAMAL (CONT'D) What about Jeevan Chacha? Salim shakes his head. JAMAL (CONT'D) Maybe he- Salim shakes his head again. SALIM - I saw him. He was with them. JAMAL But he wouldn't hurt- SALIM - he was with them! JAMAL But- SALIM - shut up, Jamal, can't you? Just shut up! Salim turns away and sees the girl. Picks up a rock and hurls it at her. She dodges, takes a couple of steps back but makes no real attempt to get away. He finds another rock and hurls this in her direction too. SALIM (CONT'D) Ja! Then a flash of lightning and thunder rumbles across the city. Rain begins to come down. JAMAL What shall we do? (CONTINUED) 23. 33 CONTINUED: 33 No answer. Jamal sits down. Salim sits down. At a distance, the girl sits down. Rain pours down their faces. 34 INT. BUILDER'S YARD. NIGHT. 34 Rain as you've never seen. A pile of huge water pipes in a sprawling builder's yard. Jamal is in one pipe, Salim above him in another. They are both soaked, shivering, but have found some plastic sheet to wrap themselves in. Outside, thirty feet away, stands the girl. Staring. Salim hisses angrily at the girl. SALIM Go away. Ja, ja! The girl might not even have heard. SALIM (CONT'D) She'll have the Security Guard onto us, standing there. JAMAL Not if we let her in. SALIM No. JAMAL She could be the third musketeer. SALIM I am the head of this family, now. And I say no. Piss off, you. Salim huddles down in the pipe. After a while, Jamal follows suit. SALIM (CONT'D) We don't even know what the third musketeer's called. 35 EXT. JUHU SLUM. DAY 35 A flash of Jamal's mother being clubbed to the ground. Her scream. 36 INT. BUILDER'S YARD. LATER. 36 Jamal wakes with a jolt and a scream half-swallowed in his mouth. He shuts his eyes tight, trying to force the image out. His breathing slows and he sees the girl staring at him. Salim, too, is staring into nothing. The rain is still falling. (CONTINUED) 24. 36 CONTINUED: 36 The girl goes back to drawing shapes in the mud with her finger. Jamal climbs out of the pipe. Looks at Salim for permission or refusal, but he just continues to stare. So, Jamal walks across to her. She looks up, wary. JAMAL Where's your Mother? Silence. JAMAL (CONT'D) Father? The girl shakes her head slightly. Jamal takes the plastic sheet from around his shoulders. Gives it to her. JAMAL (CONT'D) I'm Jamal. He's Salim. LATIKA Latika. Jamal goes back to his water pipe, climbs in. Watches her huddled under the sheet. Sighs, motions for her to join him. She darts across, jumps into the water pipe and huddles up next to Jamal. 37 INT. INSPECTOR'S OFFICE. DAY. 37 Jamal looks at the Inspector. JAMAL I wake up every morning wishing I didn't know the answer to that question? If it wasn't for Ram and Allah, I would still have a Mother. 38 INT. STUDIO. NIGHT 38 JAMAL D) A bow and arrow. PREM Final answer? JAMAL Final answer. Prem stares at him for dramatic effect. Presses his computer. PREM Computer-ji, D lock kiya-jaye. (CONTINUED) 25. 38 CONTINUED: 38 The lights dim, the music swells. PREM (CONT'D) Jamal Malik, you answered D? Ram is depicted with a bow and arrow in his hand. And guess what? You've just won sixteen thousand rupees! Well done, my friend. Time for a commercial break- don't go away, now. Music, applause. Prem switches off his professional smile. Gets up. PREM (CONT'D) Got lucky, huh? I'd take the money. You'll never get the next one. JAMAL You're from the Juhu slum, aren't you? PREM Hmm? Sure. Know where I live now, kid? Pali Hill. Twelve bedrooms, a/c in every room, two kitchens, a gym and a screening room. Steel balls is what it takes, my friend, steel balls. The Floor Manager comes over and gives his head-phones set to Prem. Prem listens. DIRECTOR V/O Prem? Tone it down, for goodness sake. You're making him a laughing stock. Prem glances up at the gallery with contempt. PREM We're having fun here. They love it...Where the hell do you get them from? He makes no attempt to hide the conversation from Jamal. DIRECTOR V/O It's supposed to be a quiz show, not a blood sport. FLOOR MANAGER Two minutes. (CONTINUED) 26. 38 CONTINUED: (2) 38 PREM Stop wetting your pants. I'll be a good little boy with the next one. Promise. He chucks the head-phones back at the Floor Manager. Glances in the wings. Sees Nita, the make-up woman. Gets up and goes over. 39 INT. STUDIO. BACKSTAGE. NIGHT. 39 In the half-light, backstage, Nita dabs his face with powder. PREM Meet me after the show. Please. NITA No. PREM Nita, I can explain. NITA No need. I read it in bloody Stardust. Didn't even have the balls to tell me. "Prem's happiness with another baby on the way". After everything you said... PREM Baby, it all happened before I met you. I swear to you. NITA She's got the gestation period of an elephant, then. Prem is about to object. But instead, he laughs. PREM You see? Amidst all this misery, only you can make me laugh. Scornful but hints of melting. NITA All this misery... PREM Her and I- nothing. You have to believe me, baby... Nita turns away. The Floor Manager comes over. FLOOR MANAGER One minute. (CONTINUED) 27. 39 CONTINUED: 39 Prem slings himself in a chair. PREM No. I'm not going on. NITA Prem... PREM I can't. Without you, it's all pointless. Clicks his fingers at the Floor Manager. PREM (CONT'D) You. Tell the Director. Nita shakes her head at the Floor Manager who by now is looking very worried. FLOOR MANAGER Thirty seconds. Prem shrugs and folds his arms. Sees her weaken. NITA Prem... PREM Calypso Bar, private room, just you and me? FLOOR MANAGER Fifteen. NITA (furious) Alright. He grins, jumps up, blows her a kiss, and stalks back on stage. 40 INT. STUDIO. NIGHT. 40 He sits back down, says almost to himself. PREM Steel balls. Turns to Jamal. PREM (CONT'D) Okay, Juhu boy, you've had a good run. Take your Mother to Khandala and eat some chiki. JAMAL My Mother's dead. (CONTINUED) 28. 40 CONTINUED: 40 PREM Well, your girlfriend then. Even better. JAMAL I don't have a girl-friend. PREM Live wire like you? You surprise me. FLOOR MANAGER Five, four... The warm-up man starts the applause. TALKBACK V/O ....three, two, one... Cheering and music. Prem switches on his charm. PREM Welcome back to Who Wants to be a Millionaire! Our contestant, Jamal Malik, Call Centre Assistant- from Mumbai, is on sixteen thousand rupees and has already used one lifeline: Ask the Audience. So, my friend: are you ready for the next question? JAMAL Yes. PREM Then, let's play. Portentous music. The lights dim. PREM (CONT'D) For sixty-four thousand rupees. The British architect Frederick Stevens designed which famous building in India? Is it: A) The Taj Mahal. B) Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus. C) India Gate. D) Howrah Bridge. What do you think, Jamal? Are you one of those tea-boys with a penchant for architecture? 41 INT. CHHATRAPATI SHIVAJI TERMINUS. DAY. 41 Known to everyone as VT station, this monument to Victorian railway architecture is a dangerous place to be at rush hour. (CONTINUED) 29. 41 CONTINUED: 41 Even before the train has stopped, men are jumping from the open doors, or vaulting out of the windows or from the roof of the train to join the tens of thousands of Mumbaites streaming to and from work. A seventeen-year old Jamal squeezes himself out of a train and shoves through the crowds. He checks the time. The digital numerals flick to five O'clock. Looks around the tide of humanity. 42 INT. STUDIO. NIGHT. 42 PREM So, what's it to be? Walk away and this cheque for sixteen thousand rupees is yours. Look, it's even got your name on it. He produces a cheque and waves it at Jamal. JAMAL I don't have a bank account. Laughter from the audience. Prem is momentarily wrong- footed. JAMAL (CONT'D) But I'll take cash. More laughter, this time with Jamal, rather than at him. Prem gets up and starts rummaging theatrically through his jacket pockets and trousers. PREM Nope. Looks like the Producer's stolen my wallet again- JAMAL - I'll play. Nobody was expecting this. Least of all Prem who has to rearrange his features into one of surprised delight. He sits down. PREM You'll play? JAMAL Why not? PREM Well, well, well. We've got a wild one, here. Prem tears up the cheque with theatrical slowness. (CONTINUED) 30. 42 CONTINUED: 42 PREM (CONT'D) For sixty-four thousand rupees, Ladies and Gentlemen, the question once again.... 43 INT. CHHATRAPATI SHIVAJI TERMINUS. DAY. 43 The digital clocks show five fifteen. Shoving the descending river of people out of his way, the eighteen year-old Jamal is forging a path up steps that cross the platforms. He pushes to the middle of the footbridge and leans out on the side railings. He scans the sea of people, desperately. Then he sees her: the eighteen year-old Latika, heart-stoppingly beautiful, over the other side of the station. A world away. She is scanning the crowd, as wired as he is. JAMAL Latika! Latika! But though he is screaming her name, his voice is swallowed by the noise around him. Then he sees two thuggish-looking men also fighting a way towards her. JAMAL (CONT'D) Latika! Frightened now, he fights his way down the steps, one figure against an army of white-robed people. JAMAL (CONT'D) Latika! JAMAL V/O Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus. PREM V/O Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus. Sure? JAMAL V/O I think so. PREM V/O You think so. A brave man, Ladies and Gentlemen, a brave man. 44 INT. CHHATRAPATI SHIVAJI TERMINUS. DAY. 44 The commuters have mostly gone. Jamal is pacing the platform desperately. He stops, stares blankly at the statue in front of him- a proud, rather pompous figure in a Victorian frock coat. The plaque reads: Frederick Stevens. 31. 45 INT. INSPECTOR'S OFFICE. NIGHT. 45 The Inspector, Srinivas and Jamal are staring at the video recorder. JAMAL Yes. Final answer. Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus. PREM Is the right answer! Sixty-four thousand rupees to you, Sir! Applause and music. The Inspector presses pause. Stares at Jamal. INSPECTOR And did she come back? Jamal smiles sadly. JAMAL I wouldn't be here if she had. INSPECTOR Pretty was she? Jamal stares down at his feet. INSPECTOR (CONT'D) Guess not. Right in the eyes. JAMAL The most beautiful woman in the world. Constable Srinivas snorts. Suddenly, Jamal is out of his chair and at Srinivas' throat. The combined force of the Inspector and Srinivas force him roughly back down. He is again handcuffed to the chair. INSPECTOR OF POLICE Well, well. The slum dog barks. Money or women. The reason for most mistakes in life. Looks like you got mixed up with both. Srinivas, you need the exercise: a trip to VT Station to check on the statue. And lock your bloody bike up. Constable Srinivas swears under his breath but bumbles out. (CONTINUED) 32. 45 CONTINUED: 45 INSPECTOR That's the chutiy out the way. Now, man to man. How did you know all the answers? JAMAL If I knew, I'd tell you. 46 OMITTED 46 47 OMITTED 47 48 INT. STUDIO. NIGHT. 48 PREM Now we're into the serious money. For two hundred and fifty thousand rupees, ladies and gentlemen, a quarter of a million rupees...the song Chalo Ri Murali was written by which famous Indian poet. Was it A) Surdas. B) Tulsidas. C) Mira Bai. D) Kabir. Remember you still have two lifelines- fifty- fifty and Phone A Friend. Tempted to use one? JAMAL No. PREM No? JAMAL I know this one. PREM Oh. I see. An expert on the poets, huh? The lights dim, the music swells and Prem presses his computer. 49 EXT. MUMBAI STREET. NIGHT. 49 Jamal is studying a piece of paper and reading out numbers from it. There is something not quite right about Jamal- perhaps the fact that there are two feet by his ears. Salim is standing on his shoulders and spraying the numbers on a wall with an aerosol and a certain lack of confidence. (CONTINUED) 33. 49 CONTINUED: 49 JAMAL Four, nine, zero, nine- the one with the stick going down, Salim- six- stick going up- Latika's head appears from around the corner. LATIKA (whispered) Oi! But they don't hear. Then she is running for her life past the pair of them. JAMAL Six, one, shit, let's go- Salim collapses off Jamal's shoulders and all three run off down an alley past a dozen of the gang's sprayed-on adverts all reading: "Beanbags- 989 4909661". A fat Security Guard with a long stick huffs round the corner. Chases them up an alley. Nowhere to go except through an imposing gate that clearly leads to a private house. SECURITY GUARD Got you now, little shits. 50 EXT. GARDEN. NIGHT. 50 They charge across the lawn, down one side of the house where all the washing is hanging. The Guard gets caught up in drying sheets, towels. He fights his way through to see Salim, Latika and Jamal leaping over the wall to safety. But Jamal turns, jumps back and grabs a girl's dress from the line. SECURITY GUARD Aha! Little thief! The Security Guard lands a couple of blows on Jamal's back as he dodges around him and back across the lawn, dress in hand. The Security Guard gives up. SECURITY GUARD (CONT'D) Pervert! 51 INT. ALLEY. NIGHT. 51 Jamal is examing the bruises on his legs. SALIM Useless bloody look-out. What good is she, huh? (CONTINUED) 34. 51 CONTINUED: 51 LATIKA (infuriated) I tried to warn you. JAMAL It's okay, Salim. Latika slips on the dress. Spins. Both of them look up. Stare. She pulls her hair back, smiles, is transformed into a beautiful girl. 52 EXT. GORAI BEACH DUMPING GROUND. DAY. 52 Blazing sun. Diggers and trucks are shifting mounds of rubble on a rubbish dump that seems to stretch for ever. Oblivious to the dust kicked up by the trucks, Latika is picking up old plastic bags, examining each one and putting the less worn in a big sack. The dress is recognisable but dusty and torn. She stoops to dig another bag out of the dirt, but stops and stares. Shimmering in the heat, a rickety pick-up truck comes through the rubbish dump gates. Toots at the Guard who waves, pulls up in the dump. "Hope Orphanage is written on the side of the van. A man gets out. Looks around. 53 INT. `TENT'. DAY. 53 Under sheets of plastic propped up on sticks, Jamal and Salim are sleeping out the hottest part of the day. Jamal wakes to see a figure standing over him- a silhouette with a halo of sun behind him. Out of his bag, the man produces a bottle of Thumbs Up. He uncaps it with an alluring hiss. It is almost an advert for thirst-quenching affluence. Almost instinctively, Salim and Jamal stir. MAN Hello. He hands the bottle to Salim, gets another from his bag and waves it questioningly at Jamal. MAN (CONT'D) Hot, huh? My name is Maman. 54 EXT. ORPHANAGE. EVENING. 54 The hills on the edge of Bombay. Greenery and space, for the first time in the film. The pick-up truck pulls up outside a building with Jamal, Salim and Latika sitting on a bench in the back. Maman gets out. Drops the gate on the back of the pick-up. MAMAN Anyone hungry? Come on in. 35. 55 INT. ORPHANAGE COURTYARD. EVENING. 55 Twenty children are eating at long benches in a ramshackle courtyard. Maman, ushers Jamal, Salim and Latika in and sits them down at one of the benches. He waves a hand and a giant man, Punnoose, comes over with a big bowl of food. The three tear into it. Cleaning every last morsel of rice from his plate, Jamal looks up and notices a table peopled entirely with blind or crippled children. Some of the legless are eating on the floor next to the table. Jamal leans over to Salim. JAMAL He must be a very good man to look after these people. SALIM (glancing at them) A saint. Arvind, a boy smaller than either Jamal or Salim overhears. ARVIND We're not allowed to talk to them. LATIKA Why not? Arvind shrugs. Latika licks her plate, glances at Maman who is looking right at them. LATIKA (CONT'D) Well, if there are seconds, Maman is definitely a Saint. As if telepathic, Maman signals to Punnoose and he brings a large bowl of rice and dhal over to them. Latika looks at Jamal and Salim. They burst out laughing. LATIKA (CONT'D) I tell you, Lord Siva is with us. 56 INT. ORPHANAGE. EVENING. 56 Salim, Latika, Jamal and a group of children are standing in a line singing a doha- ancient lyrics set to music. Maman is leading the singing, walking up and down the line listening to each one individually. He stops at one small boy, Arvind, and listens. Nods his head, pleased, and continues down the line until he stops in front of Jamal. Holds up his hand. MAMAN Stop! You. Again. (CONTINUED) 36. 56 CONTINUED: 56 Jamal starts singing again. He has the sweetest of voices. Untrained but pure. Maman smiles, ruffles Jamal's hair, impressed. MAMAN (CONT'D) Everyone. They all join in. Maman continues down the line. He stops at Salim whose octave-slipping singing is lusty and appallingly out of tune. Maman winces and moves on. Standing next to Salim, Latika giggles. Immediately, Salim is on her. Before a fight breaks out, Punnoose pulls Salim off Latika and hurls him across the room. Salim gets up and charges at Punnoose. For a second, Punnoose is back-footed, but then pins Salim's arms to his side. Maman laughs. Approaches Salim. MAMAN (CONT'D) You sing like one, and you fight like one. I think you've found your dog, Punnoose. 57 EXT. CENTRAL MUMBAI TRAFFIC. DAY. 57 A group of children are sitting in the jumble of concrete under a motorway flyover. Cars surround them, bumper to bumper. Latika and Jamal are playing an improvised hopscotch on concrete slabs. They are giggling, bumping into each other, tickling, laughing. Salim and Punnoose are sitting together, smoking. Salim is staring hard at Jamal and Latika until Punnoose grunts, a sign for Salim to clap his hands. SALIM Okay, let's go, let's go! It's not a bloody holiday! The children get to their feet. Latika sighs, puts a patch over her eye and grabs a pair of crutches. Suddenly, the lame beggar. Salim goes over to one of the girls, who is carrying a sleeping baby. Puts out his hand. SALIM (CONT'D) Give me that. The girl shakes her head. Salim grabs her by the hair in one hand and takes the baby with the other. He shoves her to the ground. The other children stare. JAMAL Hey, Salim! He challenges Jamal. SALIM What, chot bhai? You got a problem? (CONTINUED) 37. 57 CONTINUED: 57 He laughs and walks over to Latika. SALIM (CONT'D) Here. For you. LATIKA I don't want it. SALIM You'll earn double. I'm doing you a favour, Latika. JAMAL She doesn't want it. SALIM Chup, Jamal. Latika turns away and begins to walk towards the cars. SALIM (CONT'D) I'll drop it. He holds the baby up. Latika grabs the baby with a cry just as Salim releases it from his hands. Salim pinches the baby. SALIM (CONT'D) Triple if it's crying. Latika snatches it away. Salim laughs, goes back to sitting with Punnoose. The children scatter to the cars trapped at the lights, tapping plaintively on the windows and making the universal begging gesture. 58 INT. ORPHANAGE. KITCHEN. NIGHT. 58 Surrounded by beer bottles, Punnoose is slumped asleep by the kitchen door. Latika edges past, avoids the cook sleeping under the table and goes to a shelf laden with vegetables. She pulls down a bunch of chillies still on the vine, strips a few off and tip-toes out with them. 59 INT. ORPHANAGE. DORMITORY. NIGHT. 59 Sleeping children, three or four to a mattress on the floor. Latika tip-toes around the mattresses. She pauses over one in particular where we see Salim, asleep. She carefully pulls up the sheet, delves underneath. Pleasant dreams cross Salim's sleeping face for a second. Then suddenly, he is bolt upright and screaming. He charges around the room clutching his genitals in agony. SALIM Madher chod...! (CONTINUED) 38. 59 CONTINUED: 59 He sprints out of the room, wailing. 60 INT. ORPHANAGE. SHOWERS. NIGHT. 60 The lights are on and two dozen children are screaming with laughter as Salim stands under the make-shift shower directing the water down his pants to his burning genitals, his face a picture of agony. Latika wipes crushed chillies from her hands. SALIM You're dead, sala. She smiles and walks past Jamal with a shrug. Then Punnoose comes stalking in and the children scatter away. PUNNOOSE Get back to bed, dogs! What the hell... JAMAL V/O They taught me every song in the history of Indian music. INSPECTOR V/O And why would they do that, I wonder? 61 INT. SHACK. NIGHT. 61 In a shack, Arvind is singing one of Surdas' bhajans in front of Maman and an old man who by his ragged appearance must be a villager. Punnoose and Salim sit behind Arvind. MAMAN Very good, very good. I am pleased, Arvind. He is ready. ARVIND Ready? Maman nods to Punnoose. Before Arvind can turn round, Punnoose has covered his mouth with a cloth and after the briefest of struggles, Arvind's body goes limp. The villager puts an old tin box on the table. Taking the lid from the tin, he brings out a cloth and unwraps it. Inside is a spoon. He checks the edge with his thumb. Sharp. Douses it with a clear liquid from a bottle and passes it over a candle flame. The spoon whooshes with a high flame for a moment. The villager wipes it with the cloth nods to Punnoose. PUNNOOSE Salim! (CONTINUED) 39. 61 CONTINUED: 61 Utterly bemused, Salim nevertheless helps Punnoose lay Arvind on the table. The villager takes hold of Arvind's eyelid and pulls it open. He brings the spoon close. Suddenly, Salim is being sick in the corner of the shack. By the time he has turned back, the villager is wiping the spoon on a blood-soaked rag. MAMAN Okay. Take him out the back. Punnoose picks up Arvind and carries him out. MAMAN (CONT'D) Now the other one. Salim, go get Jamal. A frozen moment. SALIM What? MAMAN Gunfighter Number One, isn't that right, Salim? The money, the women, the cars...you want them bad, huh? And why not? Maman gets out of his chair. Approaches Salim. MAMAN (CONT'D) The time has come to choose, yaar. The life of a slum dog or the life of a man. A real man. A gunfighter, Salim. Maman holds Salim's head in his hands. MAMAN (CONT'D) Your destiny is in your hands, bhai. You can be me. Or nobody. Understand? SALIM Yes, Maman. Maman nods. MAMAN So, brother, go get Jamal. Salim is frozen for another few seconds, then turns and walks out of the door. Punnoose appears at the door. Maman nods to him and he slips off after Salim. 62 INT. DORMITORY, ORPHANAGE. NIGHT. 62 All the children are asleep apart from Jamal who is crouched underneath a couple of wash-basins. (CONTINUED) 40. 62 CONTINUED: 62 He is talking through a plate-sized hole in the crumbling masonry. Latika's eyes can be seen. JAMAL ...weddings, government things, big parties. If Maman says my voice is ready. Big money. LATIKA Enough for a room? JAMAL Easily. Maybe an apartment. LATIKA Really? JAMAL That's what Arvind said. On Harbour Road. You, me and Salim. The three musketeers. LATIKA Harbour Road! We can have ice cream from Babanji's. JAMAL Every day if we want. Salim appears at the door. Nods his head at Jamal. JAMAL (CONT'D) It's my turn. LATIKA Good luck, Jamal. Latika's hand comes through the gap. Jamal takes it for a moment. Salim hisses at Jamal. He lets go of the hand and heads out. 63 EXT. PATH. NIGHT. 63 Salim and Jamal walk along the path, Jamal humming happily. Salim checks behind him, sees Punnoose following. JAMAL So, this is it, hey, bhai? The good life, here we come.... SALIM (conversationally) Athos. Jamal is suddenly alert. Slows (CONTINUED) 41. 63 CONTINUED: 63 JAMAL Porthos? Salim nods. Big smile. Puts a hand on Jamal's shoulder. SALIM When I say. 64 INT. SHACK. NIGHT. 64 Salim guides Jamal into the shack where Maman and the Villager are waiting. Maman smiles. Punnoose slips in behind Salim. MAMAN Jamal, hello. You have done well. It's time for you to- turn professional. JAMAL Really? MAMAN Sing me a song, yaar. How about Chalo Ri Murali, huh? My favourite. Jamal opens his mouth, then closes it again. Holds out his hand. JAMAL Fifty rupees. MAMAN What? JAMAL (shrugs) I've turned professional. What can I do? Maman laughs. MAMAN Sala...! He throws some notes at him. 65 EXT. SHACK. NIGHT. 65 Outside, a giggle. Latika is peering through a gap in the wall. 42. 66 INT. SHACK. NIGHT. 66 Jamal begins to sing. Maman waits a while, then nods to Punnoose. Behind Jamal, Punnoose hands Salim the bottle of chloroform and the rag. Salim approaches the back of Jamal. Salim waits until he has finished the song. Raises his hand with the rag in it. Maman smiles, nods. Salim flings the contents of the bottle in Punnoose's face. Punnoose screams and stumbles back clutching his eyes, knocking over the table. SALIM Go! Salim and Jamal scramble for the door. The knocked-over candle catches the spilled chloroform and a curtain which whooshes up in flame. LATIKA Jamal! JAMAL Run! 66A EXT. SHACK. NIGHT. 66A They charge past the prone Arvind- a flash of bloodied bandages covering his eyes. 67 EXT. HILLSIDE. NIGHT. 67 Heavy, desperate breathing. Feet stumble on roots. Fall into holes. The three children are running. Branches smack into their faces. But they are so scared, nothing will stop them. Behind them, torches scour the undergrowth. Men shouting. They break out of the woods and are confronted with a train goods yard. 68 EXT. GOODS YARD. NIGHT. 68 They run over the tracks, between the trains, but the shouts are getting louder, the torches closer. A diesel engine is moving out of the station. Jamal, Latika and Salim sprint for the Guard's Van at the very back of the moving train. Punnoose is closest to them. Salim is fastest and first to jump the train. He holds out his hand. Jamal grabs it and is hauled in. Jamal holds his hand out to Latika. JAMAL Come on! Faster! She reaches out to him. Their hands almost touch. (CONTINUED) 43. 68 CONTINUED: 68 JAMAL (CONT'D) Take it! Take it! I can't reach... Salim barges Jamal out of the way. Jamal stumbles back as Salim reaches his hand out to Latika, so he doesn't see Latika's hand grasp Salim's, nor see their eyes lock onto each other, nor see Salim very deliberately let go of her hand. Latika stumbles. LATIKA Jamal! Jamal scrambles to the rail. The train gains more speed. Jamal climbs on to the top rung, makes to jump, but Salim flings him backward. Jamal tries to scramble to his feet again, but Salim restrains him. JAMAL Got to go back. We've got to go back. SALIM He'll kill us if we go back. Jamal! He was going to take your eyes out- with a bloody spoon! The train is speeding along. Jamal breaks free and stares back at Latika. SALIM (CONT'D) She'll be alright. She always is. Latika stumbles again and stops running. They watch as Punnoose catches up with her and stops running. He smashes Latika to the ground. 69 INT. STUDIO. NIGHT. 69 PREM The question was, for two hundred and fifty thousand rupees: who wrote the famous song Chalo Ri Murali. I should warn you, Jamal: from this question on, if you get the answer wrong you lose everything. So. Are you sure? The life-lines are there.... JAMAL Surdas. PREM Surdas. Apka final jawab? (CONTINUED) 44. 69 CONTINUED: 69 JAMAL Yes. PREM Computer-ji, A lock kiya-jaye. The lights dim, the music swells. Prem presses a button on his computer: looks him straight in the eyes for an age. PREM (CONT'D) (simply) Guess what? You're right. Applause, music, lights. 70 INT. INSPECTOR'S OFFICE. DAY. 70 The Inspector is eying Jamal, weighing it all up. JAMAL (shrugging) Blind singers earn double. You know that. INSPECTOR And what happened to the girl? They blinded her too? JAMAL (shakes his head) They had other plans. Though it took me a long, long time to find out. 71 EXT. TRAIN. MORNING. 71 Salim and Jamal are sitting on top of the train. Jamal is staring blankly down the track. SALIM Ar , Jamal... Salim puts an arm around Jamal's shoulder. Jamal wipes the tears from his eyes, shakes his head furiously. Salim gets up. Holds out his hand. SALIM (CONT'D) Come. JAMAL Where you going? SALIM First class, bhai. Where else? 45.

by

How many times the word 'by' appears in the text?

to a colleague. Puts out his cigarette with purpose. JAMAL Let's go, bhai. Salim and Jamal run. The girl follows. 22. 33 EXT. MUMBAI. EVENING. 33 Salim and Jamal stand on a hill overlooking the city. Black smoke billows from a large area that is clearly the Juhu slum. Standing a little way off is the girl. JAMAL We should go back. Silence. JAMAL (CONT'D) See if Ama- Salim shakes his head fiercely, silencing Jamal for a moment. But only a moment. JAMAL (CONT'D) What about Jeevan Chacha? Salim shakes his head. JAMAL (CONT'D) Maybe he- Salim shakes his head again. SALIM - I saw him. He was with them. JAMAL But he wouldn't hurt- SALIM - he was with them! JAMAL But- SALIM - shut up, Jamal, can't you? Just shut up! Salim turns away and sees the girl. Picks up a rock and hurls it at her. She dodges, takes a couple of steps back but makes no real attempt to get away. He finds another rock and hurls this in her direction too. SALIM (CONT'D) Ja! Then a flash of lightning and thunder rumbles across the city. Rain begins to come down. JAMAL What shall we do? (CONTINUED) 23. 33 CONTINUED: 33 No answer. Jamal sits down. Salim sits down. At a distance, the girl sits down. Rain pours down their faces. 34 INT. BUILDER'S YARD. NIGHT. 34 Rain as you've never seen. A pile of huge water pipes in a sprawling builder's yard. Jamal is in one pipe, Salim above him in another. They are both soaked, shivering, but have found some plastic sheet to wrap themselves in. Outside, thirty feet away, stands the girl. Staring. Salim hisses angrily at the girl. SALIM Go away. Ja, ja! The girl might not even have heard. SALIM (CONT'D) She'll have the Security Guard onto us, standing there. JAMAL Not if we let her in. SALIM No. JAMAL She could be the third musketeer. SALIM I am the head of this family, now. And I say no. Piss off, you. Salim huddles down in the pipe. After a while, Jamal follows suit. SALIM (CONT'D) We don't even know what the third musketeer's called. 35 EXT. JUHU SLUM. DAY 35 A flash of Jamal's mother being clubbed to the ground. Her scream. 36 INT. BUILDER'S YARD. LATER. 36 Jamal wakes with a jolt and a scream half-swallowed in his mouth. He shuts his eyes tight, trying to force the image out. His breathing slows and he sees the girl staring at him. Salim, too, is staring into nothing. The rain is still falling. (CONTINUED) 24. 36 CONTINUED: 36 The girl goes back to drawing shapes in the mud with her finger. Jamal climbs out of the pipe. Looks at Salim for permission or refusal, but he just continues to stare. So, Jamal walks across to her. She looks up, wary. JAMAL Where's your Mother? Silence. JAMAL (CONT'D) Father? The girl shakes her head slightly. Jamal takes the plastic sheet from around his shoulders. Gives it to her. JAMAL (CONT'D) I'm Jamal. He's Salim. LATIKA Latika. Jamal goes back to his water pipe, climbs in. Watches her huddled under the sheet. Sighs, motions for her to join him. She darts across, jumps into the water pipe and huddles up next to Jamal. 37 INT. INSPECTOR'S OFFICE. DAY. 37 Jamal looks at the Inspector. JAMAL I wake up every morning wishing I didn't know the answer to that question? If it wasn't for Ram and Allah, I would still have a Mother. 38 INT. STUDIO. NIGHT 38 JAMAL D) A bow and arrow. PREM Final answer? JAMAL Final answer. Prem stares at him for dramatic effect. Presses his computer. PREM Computer-ji, D lock kiya-jaye. (CONTINUED) 25. 38 CONTINUED: 38 The lights dim, the music swells. PREM (CONT'D) Jamal Malik, you answered D? Ram is depicted with a bow and arrow in his hand. And guess what? You've just won sixteen thousand rupees! Well done, my friend. Time for a commercial break- don't go away, now. Music, applause. Prem switches off his professional smile. Gets up. PREM (CONT'D) Got lucky, huh? I'd take the money. You'll never get the next one. JAMAL You're from the Juhu slum, aren't you? PREM Hmm? Sure. Know where I live now, kid? Pali Hill. Twelve bedrooms, a/c in every room, two kitchens, a gym and a screening room. Steel balls is what it takes, my friend, steel balls. The Floor Manager comes over and gives his head-phones set to Prem. Prem listens. DIRECTOR V/O Prem? Tone it down, for goodness sake. You're making him a laughing stock. Prem glances up at the gallery with contempt. PREM We're having fun here. They love it...Where the hell do you get them from? He makes no attempt to hide the conversation from Jamal. DIRECTOR V/O It's supposed to be a quiz show, not a blood sport. FLOOR MANAGER Two minutes. (CONTINUED) 26. 38 CONTINUED: (2) 38 PREM Stop wetting your pants. I'll be a good little boy with the next one. Promise. He chucks the head-phones back at the Floor Manager. Glances in the wings. Sees Nita, the make-up woman. Gets up and goes over. 39 INT. STUDIO. BACKSTAGE. NIGHT. 39 In the half-light, backstage, Nita dabs his face with powder. PREM Meet me after the show. Please. NITA No. PREM Nita, I can explain. NITA No need. I read it in bloody Stardust. Didn't even have the balls to tell me. "Prem's happiness with another baby on the way". After everything you said... PREM Baby, it all happened before I met you. I swear to you. NITA She's got the gestation period of an elephant, then. Prem is about to object. But instead, he laughs. PREM You see? Amidst all this misery, only you can make me laugh. Scornful but hints of melting. NITA All this misery... PREM Her and I- nothing. You have to believe me, baby... Nita turns away. The Floor Manager comes over. FLOOR MANAGER One minute. (CONTINUED) 27. 39 CONTINUED: 39 Prem slings himself in a chair. PREM No. I'm not going on. NITA Prem... PREM I can't. Without you, it's all pointless. Clicks his fingers at the Floor Manager. PREM (CONT'D) You. Tell the Director. Nita shakes her head at the Floor Manager who by now is looking very worried. FLOOR MANAGER Thirty seconds. Prem shrugs and folds his arms. Sees her weaken. NITA Prem... PREM Calypso Bar, private room, just you and me? FLOOR MANAGER Fifteen. NITA (furious) Alright. He grins, jumps up, blows her a kiss, and stalks back on stage. 40 INT. STUDIO. NIGHT. 40 He sits back down, says almost to himself. PREM Steel balls. Turns to Jamal. PREM (CONT'D) Okay, Juhu boy, you've had a good run. Take your Mother to Khandala and eat some chiki. JAMAL My Mother's dead. (CONTINUED) 28. 40 CONTINUED: 40 PREM Well, your girlfriend then. Even better. JAMAL I don't have a girl-friend. PREM Live wire like you? You surprise me. FLOOR MANAGER Five, four... The warm-up man starts the applause. TALKBACK V/O ....three, two, one... Cheering and music. Prem switches on his charm. PREM Welcome back to Who Wants to be a Millionaire! Our contestant, Jamal Malik, Call Centre Assistant- from Mumbai, is on sixteen thousand rupees and has already used one lifeline: Ask the Audience. So, my friend: are you ready for the next question? JAMAL Yes. PREM Then, let's play. Portentous music. The lights dim. PREM (CONT'D) For sixty-four thousand rupees. The British architect Frederick Stevens designed which famous building in India? Is it: A) The Taj Mahal. B) Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus. C) India Gate. D) Howrah Bridge. What do you think, Jamal? Are you one of those tea-boys with a penchant for architecture? 41 INT. CHHATRAPATI SHIVAJI TERMINUS. DAY. 41 Known to everyone as VT station, this monument to Victorian railway architecture is a dangerous place to be at rush hour. (CONTINUED) 29. 41 CONTINUED: 41 Even before the train has stopped, men are jumping from the open doors, or vaulting out of the windows or from the roof of the train to join the tens of thousands of Mumbaites streaming to and from work. A seventeen-year old Jamal squeezes himself out of a train and shoves through the crowds. He checks the time. The digital numerals flick to five O'clock. Looks around the tide of humanity. 42 INT. STUDIO. NIGHT. 42 PREM So, what's it to be? Walk away and this cheque for sixteen thousand rupees is yours. Look, it's even got your name on it. He produces a cheque and waves it at Jamal. JAMAL I don't have a bank account. Laughter from the audience. Prem is momentarily wrong- footed. JAMAL (CONT'D) But I'll take cash. More laughter, this time with Jamal, rather than at him. Prem gets up and starts rummaging theatrically through his jacket pockets and trousers. PREM Nope. Looks like the Producer's stolen my wallet again- JAMAL - I'll play. Nobody was expecting this. Least of all Prem who has to rearrange his features into one of surprised delight. He sits down. PREM You'll play? JAMAL Why not? PREM Well, well, well. We've got a wild one, here. Prem tears up the cheque with theatrical slowness. (CONTINUED) 30. 42 CONTINUED: 42 PREM (CONT'D) For sixty-four thousand rupees, Ladies and Gentlemen, the question once again.... 43 INT. CHHATRAPATI SHIVAJI TERMINUS. DAY. 43 The digital clocks show five fifteen. Shoving the descending river of people out of his way, the eighteen year-old Jamal is forging a path up steps that cross the platforms. He pushes to the middle of the footbridge and leans out on the side railings. He scans the sea of people, desperately. Then he sees her: the eighteen year-old Latika, heart-stoppingly beautiful, over the other side of the station. A world away. She is scanning the crowd, as wired as he is. JAMAL Latika! Latika! But though he is screaming her name, his voice is swallowed by the noise around him. Then he sees two thuggish-looking men also fighting a way towards her. JAMAL (CONT'D) Latika! Frightened now, he fights his way down the steps, one figure against an army of white-robed people. JAMAL (CONT'D) Latika! JAMAL V/O Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus. PREM V/O Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus. Sure? JAMAL V/O I think so. PREM V/O You think so. A brave man, Ladies and Gentlemen, a brave man. 44 INT. CHHATRAPATI SHIVAJI TERMINUS. DAY. 44 The commuters have mostly gone. Jamal is pacing the platform desperately. He stops, stares blankly at the statue in front of him- a proud, rather pompous figure in a Victorian frock coat. The plaque reads: Frederick Stevens. 31. 45 INT. INSPECTOR'S OFFICE. NIGHT. 45 The Inspector, Srinivas and Jamal are staring at the video recorder. JAMAL Yes. Final answer. Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus. PREM Is the right answer! Sixty-four thousand rupees to you, Sir! Applause and music. The Inspector presses pause. Stares at Jamal. INSPECTOR And did she come back? Jamal smiles sadly. JAMAL I wouldn't be here if she had. INSPECTOR Pretty was she? Jamal stares down at his feet. INSPECTOR (CONT'D) Guess not. Right in the eyes. JAMAL The most beautiful woman in the world. Constable Srinivas snorts. Suddenly, Jamal is out of his chair and at Srinivas' throat. The combined force of the Inspector and Srinivas force him roughly back down. He is again handcuffed to the chair. INSPECTOR OF POLICE Well, well. The slum dog barks. Money or women. The reason for most mistakes in life. Looks like you got mixed up with both. Srinivas, you need the exercise: a trip to VT Station to check on the statue. And lock your bloody bike up. Constable Srinivas swears under his breath but bumbles out. (CONTINUED) 32. 45 CONTINUED: 45 INSPECTOR That's the chutiy out the way. Now, man to man. How did you know all the answers? JAMAL If I knew, I'd tell you. 46 OMITTED 46 47 OMITTED 47 48 INT. STUDIO. NIGHT. 48 PREM Now we're into the serious money. For two hundred and fifty thousand rupees, ladies and gentlemen, a quarter of a million rupees...the song Chalo Ri Murali was written by which famous Indian poet. Was it A) Surdas. B) Tulsidas. C) Mira Bai. D) Kabir. Remember you still have two lifelines- fifty- fifty and Phone A Friend. Tempted to use one? JAMAL No. PREM No? JAMAL I know this one. PREM Oh. I see. An expert on the poets, huh? The lights dim, the music swells and Prem presses his computer. 49 EXT. MUMBAI STREET. NIGHT. 49 Jamal is studying a piece of paper and reading out numbers from it. There is something not quite right about Jamal- perhaps the fact that there are two feet by his ears. Salim is standing on his shoulders and spraying the numbers on a wall with an aerosol and a certain lack of confidence. (CONTINUED) 33. 49 CONTINUED: 49 JAMAL Four, nine, zero, nine- the one with the stick going down, Salim- six- stick going up- Latika's head appears from around the corner. LATIKA (whispered) Oi! But they don't hear. Then she is running for her life past the pair of them. JAMAL Six, one, shit, let's go- Salim collapses off Jamal's shoulders and all three run off down an alley past a dozen of the gang's sprayed-on adverts all reading: "Beanbags- 989 4909661". A fat Security Guard with a long stick huffs round the corner. Chases them up an alley. Nowhere to go except through an imposing gate that clearly leads to a private house. SECURITY GUARD Got you now, little shits. 50 EXT. GARDEN. NIGHT. 50 They charge across the lawn, down one side of the house where all the washing is hanging. The Guard gets caught up in drying sheets, towels. He fights his way through to see Salim, Latika and Jamal leaping over the wall to safety. But Jamal turns, jumps back and grabs a girl's dress from the line. SECURITY GUARD Aha! Little thief! The Security Guard lands a couple of blows on Jamal's back as he dodges around him and back across the lawn, dress in hand. The Security Guard gives up. SECURITY GUARD (CONT'D) Pervert! 51 INT. ALLEY. NIGHT. 51 Jamal is examing the bruises on his legs. SALIM Useless bloody look-out. What good is she, huh? (CONTINUED) 34. 51 CONTINUED: 51 LATIKA (infuriated) I tried to warn you. JAMAL It's okay, Salim. Latika slips on the dress. Spins. Both of them look up. Stare. She pulls her hair back, smiles, is transformed into a beautiful girl. 52 EXT. GORAI BEACH DUMPING GROUND. DAY. 52 Blazing sun. Diggers and trucks are shifting mounds of rubble on a rubbish dump that seems to stretch for ever. Oblivious to the dust kicked up by the trucks, Latika is picking up old plastic bags, examining each one and putting the less worn in a big sack. The dress is recognisable but dusty and torn. She stoops to dig another bag out of the dirt, but stops and stares. Shimmering in the heat, a rickety pick-up truck comes through the rubbish dump gates. Toots at the Guard who waves, pulls up in the dump. "Hope Orphanage is written on the side of the van. A man gets out. Looks around. 53 INT. `TENT'. DAY. 53 Under sheets of plastic propped up on sticks, Jamal and Salim are sleeping out the hottest part of the day. Jamal wakes to see a figure standing over him- a silhouette with a halo of sun behind him. Out of his bag, the man produces a bottle of Thumbs Up. He uncaps it with an alluring hiss. It is almost an advert for thirst-quenching affluence. Almost instinctively, Salim and Jamal stir. MAN Hello. He hands the bottle to Salim, gets another from his bag and waves it questioningly at Jamal. MAN (CONT'D) Hot, huh? My name is Maman. 54 EXT. ORPHANAGE. EVENING. 54 The hills on the edge of Bombay. Greenery and space, for the first time in the film. The pick-up truck pulls up outside a building with Jamal, Salim and Latika sitting on a bench in the back. Maman gets out. Drops the gate on the back of the pick-up. MAMAN Anyone hungry? Come on in. 35. 55 INT. ORPHANAGE COURTYARD. EVENING. 55 Twenty children are eating at long benches in a ramshackle courtyard. Maman, ushers Jamal, Salim and Latika in and sits them down at one of the benches. He waves a hand and a giant man, Punnoose, comes over with a big bowl of food. The three tear into it. Cleaning every last morsel of rice from his plate, Jamal looks up and notices a table peopled entirely with blind or crippled children. Some of the legless are eating on the floor next to the table. Jamal leans over to Salim. JAMAL He must be a very good man to look after these people. SALIM (glancing at them) A saint. Arvind, a boy smaller than either Jamal or Salim overhears. ARVIND We're not allowed to talk to them. LATIKA Why not? Arvind shrugs. Latika licks her plate, glances at Maman who is looking right at them. LATIKA (CONT'D) Well, if there are seconds, Maman is definitely a Saint. As if telepathic, Maman signals to Punnoose and he brings a large bowl of rice and dhal over to them. Latika looks at Jamal and Salim. They burst out laughing. LATIKA (CONT'D) I tell you, Lord Siva is with us. 56 INT. ORPHANAGE. EVENING. 56 Salim, Latika, Jamal and a group of children are standing in a line singing a doha- ancient lyrics set to music. Maman is leading the singing, walking up and down the line listening to each one individually. He stops at one small boy, Arvind, and listens. Nods his head, pleased, and continues down the line until he stops in front of Jamal. Holds up his hand. MAMAN Stop! You. Again. (CONTINUED) 36. 56 CONTINUED: 56 Jamal starts singing again. He has the sweetest of voices. Untrained but pure. Maman smiles, ruffles Jamal's hair, impressed. MAMAN (CONT'D) Everyone. They all join in. Maman continues down the line. He stops at Salim whose octave-slipping singing is lusty and appallingly out of tune. Maman winces and moves on. Standing next to Salim, Latika giggles. Immediately, Salim is on her. Before a fight breaks out, Punnoose pulls Salim off Latika and hurls him across the room. Salim gets up and charges at Punnoose. For a second, Punnoose is back-footed, but then pins Salim's arms to his side. Maman laughs. Approaches Salim. MAMAN (CONT'D) You sing like one, and you fight like one. I think you've found your dog, Punnoose. 57 EXT. CENTRAL MUMBAI TRAFFIC. DAY. 57 A group of children are sitting in the jumble of concrete under a motorway flyover. Cars surround them, bumper to bumper. Latika and Jamal are playing an improvised hopscotch on concrete slabs. They are giggling, bumping into each other, tickling, laughing. Salim and Punnoose are sitting together, smoking. Salim is staring hard at Jamal and Latika until Punnoose grunts, a sign for Salim to clap his hands. SALIM Okay, let's go, let's go! It's not a bloody holiday! The children get to their feet. Latika sighs, puts a patch over her eye and grabs a pair of crutches. Suddenly, the lame beggar. Salim goes over to one of the girls, who is carrying a sleeping baby. Puts out his hand. SALIM (CONT'D) Give me that. The girl shakes her head. Salim grabs her by the hair in one hand and takes the baby with the other. He shoves her to the ground. The other children stare. JAMAL Hey, Salim! He challenges Jamal. SALIM What, chot bhai? You got a problem? (CONTINUED) 37. 57 CONTINUED: 57 He laughs and walks over to Latika. SALIM (CONT'D) Here. For you. LATIKA I don't want it. SALIM You'll earn double. I'm doing you a favour, Latika. JAMAL She doesn't want it. SALIM Chup, Jamal. Latika turns away and begins to walk towards the cars. SALIM (CONT'D) I'll drop it. He holds the baby up. Latika grabs the baby with a cry just as Salim releases it from his hands. Salim pinches the baby. SALIM (CONT'D) Triple if it's crying. Latika snatches it away. Salim laughs, goes back to sitting with Punnoose. The children scatter to the cars trapped at the lights, tapping plaintively on the windows and making the universal begging gesture. 58 INT. ORPHANAGE. KITCHEN. NIGHT. 58 Surrounded by beer bottles, Punnoose is slumped asleep by the kitchen door. Latika edges past, avoids the cook sleeping under the table and goes to a shelf laden with vegetables. She pulls down a bunch of chillies still on the vine, strips a few off and tip-toes out with them. 59 INT. ORPHANAGE. DORMITORY. NIGHT. 59 Sleeping children, three or four to a mattress on the floor. Latika tip-toes around the mattresses. She pauses over one in particular where we see Salim, asleep. She carefully pulls up the sheet, delves underneath. Pleasant dreams cross Salim's sleeping face for a second. Then suddenly, he is bolt upright and screaming. He charges around the room clutching his genitals in agony. SALIM Madher chod...! (CONTINUED) 38. 59 CONTINUED: 59 He sprints out of the room, wailing. 60 INT. ORPHANAGE. SHOWERS. NIGHT. 60 The lights are on and two dozen children are screaming with laughter as Salim stands under the make-shift shower directing the water down his pants to his burning genitals, his face a picture of agony. Latika wipes crushed chillies from her hands. SALIM You're dead, sala. She smiles and walks past Jamal with a shrug. Then Punnoose comes stalking in and the children scatter away. PUNNOOSE Get back to bed, dogs! What the hell... JAMAL V/O They taught me every song in the history of Indian music. INSPECTOR V/O And why would they do that, I wonder? 61 INT. SHACK. NIGHT. 61 In a shack, Arvind is singing one of Surdas' bhajans in front of Maman and an old man who by his ragged appearance must be a villager. Punnoose and Salim sit behind Arvind. MAMAN Very good, very good. I am pleased, Arvind. He is ready. ARVIND Ready? Maman nods to Punnoose. Before Arvind can turn round, Punnoose has covered his mouth with a cloth and after the briefest of struggles, Arvind's body goes limp. The villager puts an old tin box on the table. Taking the lid from the tin, he brings out a cloth and unwraps it. Inside is a spoon. He checks the edge with his thumb. Sharp. Douses it with a clear liquid from a bottle and passes it over a candle flame. The spoon whooshes with a high flame for a moment. The villager wipes it with the cloth nods to Punnoose. PUNNOOSE Salim! (CONTINUED) 39. 61 CONTINUED: 61 Utterly bemused, Salim nevertheless helps Punnoose lay Arvind on the table. The villager takes hold of Arvind's eyelid and pulls it open. He brings the spoon close. Suddenly, Salim is being sick in the corner of the shack. By the time he has turned back, the villager is wiping the spoon on a blood-soaked rag. MAMAN Okay. Take him out the back. Punnoose picks up Arvind and carries him out. MAMAN (CONT'D) Now the other one. Salim, go get Jamal. A frozen moment. SALIM What? MAMAN Gunfighter Number One, isn't that right, Salim? The money, the women, the cars...you want them bad, huh? And why not? Maman gets out of his chair. Approaches Salim. MAMAN (CONT'D) The time has come to choose, yaar. The life of a slum dog or the life of a man. A real man. A gunfighter, Salim. Maman holds Salim's head in his hands. MAMAN (CONT'D) Your destiny is in your hands, bhai. You can be me. Or nobody. Understand? SALIM Yes, Maman. Maman nods. MAMAN So, brother, go get Jamal. Salim is frozen for another few seconds, then turns and walks out of the door. Punnoose appears at the door. Maman nods to him and he slips off after Salim. 62 INT. DORMITORY, ORPHANAGE. NIGHT. 62 All the children are asleep apart from Jamal who is crouched underneath a couple of wash-basins. (CONTINUED) 40. 62 CONTINUED: 62 He is talking through a plate-sized hole in the crumbling masonry. Latika's eyes can be seen. JAMAL ...weddings, government things, big parties. If Maman says my voice is ready. Big money. LATIKA Enough for a room? JAMAL Easily. Maybe an apartment. LATIKA Really? JAMAL That's what Arvind said. On Harbour Road. You, me and Salim. The three musketeers. LATIKA Harbour Road! We can have ice cream from Babanji's. JAMAL Every day if we want. Salim appears at the door. Nods his head at Jamal. JAMAL (CONT'D) It's my turn. LATIKA Good luck, Jamal. Latika's hand comes through the gap. Jamal takes it for a moment. Salim hisses at Jamal. He lets go of the hand and heads out. 63 EXT. PATH. NIGHT. 63 Salim and Jamal walk along the path, Jamal humming happily. Salim checks behind him, sees Punnoose following. JAMAL So, this is it, hey, bhai? The good life, here we come.... SALIM (conversationally) Athos. Jamal is suddenly alert. Slows (CONTINUED) 41. 63 CONTINUED: 63 JAMAL Porthos? Salim nods. Big smile. Puts a hand on Jamal's shoulder. SALIM When I say. 64 INT. SHACK. NIGHT. 64 Salim guides Jamal into the shack where Maman and the Villager are waiting. Maman smiles. Punnoose slips in behind Salim. MAMAN Jamal, hello. You have done well. It's time for you to- turn professional. JAMAL Really? MAMAN Sing me a song, yaar. How about Chalo Ri Murali, huh? My favourite. Jamal opens his mouth, then closes it again. Holds out his hand. JAMAL Fifty rupees. MAMAN What? JAMAL (shrugs) I've turned professional. What can I do? Maman laughs. MAMAN Sala...! He throws some notes at him. 65 EXT. SHACK. NIGHT. 65 Outside, a giggle. Latika is peering through a gap in the wall. 42. 66 INT. SHACK. NIGHT. 66 Jamal begins to sing. Maman waits a while, then nods to Punnoose. Behind Jamal, Punnoose hands Salim the bottle of chloroform and the rag. Salim approaches the back of Jamal. Salim waits until he has finished the song. Raises his hand with the rag in it. Maman smiles, nods. Salim flings the contents of the bottle in Punnoose's face. Punnoose screams and stumbles back clutching his eyes, knocking over the table. SALIM Go! Salim and Jamal scramble for the door. The knocked-over candle catches the spilled chloroform and a curtain which whooshes up in flame. LATIKA Jamal! JAMAL Run! 66A EXT. SHACK. NIGHT. 66A They charge past the prone Arvind- a flash of bloodied bandages covering his eyes. 67 EXT. HILLSIDE. NIGHT. 67 Heavy, desperate breathing. Feet stumble on roots. Fall into holes. The three children are running. Branches smack into their faces. But they are so scared, nothing will stop them. Behind them, torches scour the undergrowth. Men shouting. They break out of the woods and are confronted with a train goods yard. 68 EXT. GOODS YARD. NIGHT. 68 They run over the tracks, between the trains, but the shouts are getting louder, the torches closer. A diesel engine is moving out of the station. Jamal, Latika and Salim sprint for the Guard's Van at the very back of the moving train. Punnoose is closest to them. Salim is fastest and first to jump the train. He holds out his hand. Jamal grabs it and is hauled in. Jamal holds his hand out to Latika. JAMAL Come on! Faster! She reaches out to him. Their hands almost touch. (CONTINUED) 43. 68 CONTINUED: 68 JAMAL (CONT'D) Take it! Take it! I can't reach... Salim barges Jamal out of the way. Jamal stumbles back as Salim reaches his hand out to Latika, so he doesn't see Latika's hand grasp Salim's, nor see their eyes lock onto each other, nor see Salim very deliberately let go of her hand. Latika stumbles. LATIKA Jamal! Jamal scrambles to the rail. The train gains more speed. Jamal climbs on to the top rung, makes to jump, but Salim flings him backward. Jamal tries to scramble to his feet again, but Salim restrains him. JAMAL Got to go back. We've got to go back. SALIM He'll kill us if we go back. Jamal! He was going to take your eyes out- with a bloody spoon! The train is speeding along. Jamal breaks free and stares back at Latika. SALIM (CONT'D) She'll be alright. She always is. Latika stumbles again and stops running. They watch as Punnoose catches up with her and stops running. He smashes Latika to the ground. 69 INT. STUDIO. NIGHT. 69 PREM The question was, for two hundred and fifty thousand rupees: who wrote the famous song Chalo Ri Murali. I should warn you, Jamal: from this question on, if you get the answer wrong you lose everything. So. Are you sure? The life-lines are there.... JAMAL Surdas. PREM Surdas. Apka final jawab? (CONTINUED) 44. 69 CONTINUED: 69 JAMAL Yes. PREM Computer-ji, A lock kiya-jaye. The lights dim, the music swells. Prem presses a button on his computer: looks him straight in the eyes for an age. PREM (CONT'D) (simply) Guess what? You're right. Applause, music, lights. 70 INT. INSPECTOR'S OFFICE. DAY. 70 The Inspector is eying Jamal, weighing it all up. JAMAL (shrugging) Blind singers earn double. You know that. INSPECTOR And what happened to the girl? They blinded her too? JAMAL (shakes his head) They had other plans. Though it took me a long, long time to find out. 71 EXT. TRAIN. MORNING. 71 Salim and Jamal are sitting on top of the train. Jamal is staring blankly down the track. SALIM Ar , Jamal... Salim puts an arm around Jamal's shoulder. Jamal wipes the tears from his eyes, shakes his head furiously. Salim gets up. Holds out his hand. SALIM (CONT'D) Come. JAMAL Where you going? SALIM First class, bhai. Where else? 45.

show

How many times the word 'show' appears in the text?

to a colleague. Puts out his cigarette with purpose. JAMAL Let's go, bhai. Salim and Jamal run. The girl follows. 22. 33 EXT. MUMBAI. EVENING. 33 Salim and Jamal stand on a hill overlooking the city. Black smoke billows from a large area that is clearly the Juhu slum. Standing a little way off is the girl. JAMAL We should go back. Silence. JAMAL (CONT'D) See if Ama- Salim shakes his head fiercely, silencing Jamal for a moment. But only a moment. JAMAL (CONT'D) What about Jeevan Chacha? Salim shakes his head. JAMAL (CONT'D) Maybe he- Salim shakes his head again. SALIM - I saw him. He was with them. JAMAL But he wouldn't hurt- SALIM - he was with them! JAMAL But- SALIM - shut up, Jamal, can't you? Just shut up! Salim turns away and sees the girl. Picks up a rock and hurls it at her. She dodges, takes a couple of steps back but makes no real attempt to get away. He finds another rock and hurls this in her direction too. SALIM (CONT'D) Ja! Then a flash of lightning and thunder rumbles across the city. Rain begins to come down. JAMAL What shall we do? (CONTINUED) 23. 33 CONTINUED: 33 No answer. Jamal sits down. Salim sits down. At a distance, the girl sits down. Rain pours down their faces. 34 INT. BUILDER'S YARD. NIGHT. 34 Rain as you've never seen. A pile of huge water pipes in a sprawling builder's yard. Jamal is in one pipe, Salim above him in another. They are both soaked, shivering, but have found some plastic sheet to wrap themselves in. Outside, thirty feet away, stands the girl. Staring. Salim hisses angrily at the girl. SALIM Go away. Ja, ja! The girl might not even have heard. SALIM (CONT'D) She'll have the Security Guard onto us, standing there. JAMAL Not if we let her in. SALIM No. JAMAL She could be the third musketeer. SALIM I am the head of this family, now. And I say no. Piss off, you. Salim huddles down in the pipe. After a while, Jamal follows suit. SALIM (CONT'D) We don't even know what the third musketeer's called. 35 EXT. JUHU SLUM. DAY 35 A flash of Jamal's mother being clubbed to the ground. Her scream. 36 INT. BUILDER'S YARD. LATER. 36 Jamal wakes with a jolt and a scream half-swallowed in his mouth. He shuts his eyes tight, trying to force the image out. His breathing slows and he sees the girl staring at him. Salim, too, is staring into nothing. The rain is still falling. (CONTINUED) 24. 36 CONTINUED: 36 The girl goes back to drawing shapes in the mud with her finger. Jamal climbs out of the pipe. Looks at Salim for permission or refusal, but he just continues to stare. So, Jamal walks across to her. She looks up, wary. JAMAL Where's your Mother? Silence. JAMAL (CONT'D) Father? The girl shakes her head slightly. Jamal takes the plastic sheet from around his shoulders. Gives it to her. JAMAL (CONT'D) I'm Jamal. He's Salim. LATIKA Latika. Jamal goes back to his water pipe, climbs in. Watches her huddled under the sheet. Sighs, motions for her to join him. She darts across, jumps into the water pipe and huddles up next to Jamal. 37 INT. INSPECTOR'S OFFICE. DAY. 37 Jamal looks at the Inspector. JAMAL I wake up every morning wishing I didn't know the answer to that question? If it wasn't for Ram and Allah, I would still have a Mother. 38 INT. STUDIO. NIGHT 38 JAMAL D) A bow and arrow. PREM Final answer? JAMAL Final answer. Prem stares at him for dramatic effect. Presses his computer. PREM Computer-ji, D lock kiya-jaye. (CONTINUED) 25. 38 CONTINUED: 38 The lights dim, the music swells. PREM (CONT'D) Jamal Malik, you answered D? Ram is depicted with a bow and arrow in his hand. And guess what? You've just won sixteen thousand rupees! Well done, my friend. Time for a commercial break- don't go away, now. Music, applause. Prem switches off his professional smile. Gets up. PREM (CONT'D) Got lucky, huh? I'd take the money. You'll never get the next one. JAMAL You're from the Juhu slum, aren't you? PREM Hmm? Sure. Know where I live now, kid? Pali Hill. Twelve bedrooms, a/c in every room, two kitchens, a gym and a screening room. Steel balls is what it takes, my friend, steel balls. The Floor Manager comes over and gives his head-phones set to Prem. Prem listens. DIRECTOR V/O Prem? Tone it down, for goodness sake. You're making him a laughing stock. Prem glances up at the gallery with contempt. PREM We're having fun here. They love it...Where the hell do you get them from? He makes no attempt to hide the conversation from Jamal. DIRECTOR V/O It's supposed to be a quiz show, not a blood sport. FLOOR MANAGER Two minutes. (CONTINUED) 26. 38 CONTINUED: (2) 38 PREM Stop wetting your pants. I'll be a good little boy with the next one. Promise. He chucks the head-phones back at the Floor Manager. Glances in the wings. Sees Nita, the make-up woman. Gets up and goes over. 39 INT. STUDIO. BACKSTAGE. NIGHT. 39 In the half-light, backstage, Nita dabs his face with powder. PREM Meet me after the show. Please. NITA No. PREM Nita, I can explain. NITA No need. I read it in bloody Stardust. Didn't even have the balls to tell me. "Prem's happiness with another baby on the way". After everything you said... PREM Baby, it all happened before I met you. I swear to you. NITA She's got the gestation period of an elephant, then. Prem is about to object. But instead, he laughs. PREM You see? Amidst all this misery, only you can make me laugh. Scornful but hints of melting. NITA All this misery... PREM Her and I- nothing. You have to believe me, baby... Nita turns away. The Floor Manager comes over. FLOOR MANAGER One minute. (CONTINUED) 27. 39 CONTINUED: 39 Prem slings himself in a chair. PREM No. I'm not going on. NITA Prem... PREM I can't. Without you, it's all pointless. Clicks his fingers at the Floor Manager. PREM (CONT'D) You. Tell the Director. Nita shakes her head at the Floor Manager who by now is looking very worried. FLOOR MANAGER Thirty seconds. Prem shrugs and folds his arms. Sees her weaken. NITA Prem... PREM Calypso Bar, private room, just you and me? FLOOR MANAGER Fifteen. NITA (furious) Alright. He grins, jumps up, blows her a kiss, and stalks back on stage. 40 INT. STUDIO. NIGHT. 40 He sits back down, says almost to himself. PREM Steel balls. Turns to Jamal. PREM (CONT'D) Okay, Juhu boy, you've had a good run. Take your Mother to Khandala and eat some chiki. JAMAL My Mother's dead. (CONTINUED) 28. 40 CONTINUED: 40 PREM Well, your girlfriend then. Even better. JAMAL I don't have a girl-friend. PREM Live wire like you? You surprise me. FLOOR MANAGER Five, four... The warm-up man starts the applause. TALKBACK V/O ....three, two, one... Cheering and music. Prem switches on his charm. PREM Welcome back to Who Wants to be a Millionaire! Our contestant, Jamal Malik, Call Centre Assistant- from Mumbai, is on sixteen thousand rupees and has already used one lifeline: Ask the Audience. So, my friend: are you ready for the next question? JAMAL Yes. PREM Then, let's play. Portentous music. The lights dim. PREM (CONT'D) For sixty-four thousand rupees. The British architect Frederick Stevens designed which famous building in India? Is it: A) The Taj Mahal. B) Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus. C) India Gate. D) Howrah Bridge. What do you think, Jamal? Are you one of those tea-boys with a penchant for architecture? 41 INT. CHHATRAPATI SHIVAJI TERMINUS. DAY. 41 Known to everyone as VT station, this monument to Victorian railway architecture is a dangerous place to be at rush hour. (CONTINUED) 29. 41 CONTINUED: 41 Even before the train has stopped, men are jumping from the open doors, or vaulting out of the windows or from the roof of the train to join the tens of thousands of Mumbaites streaming to and from work. A seventeen-year old Jamal squeezes himself out of a train and shoves through the crowds. He checks the time. The digital numerals flick to five O'clock. Looks around the tide of humanity. 42 INT. STUDIO. NIGHT. 42 PREM So, what's it to be? Walk away and this cheque for sixteen thousand rupees is yours. Look, it's even got your name on it. He produces a cheque and waves it at Jamal. JAMAL I don't have a bank account. Laughter from the audience. Prem is momentarily wrong- footed. JAMAL (CONT'D) But I'll take cash. More laughter, this time with Jamal, rather than at him. Prem gets up and starts rummaging theatrically through his jacket pockets and trousers. PREM Nope. Looks like the Producer's stolen my wallet again- JAMAL - I'll play. Nobody was expecting this. Least of all Prem who has to rearrange his features into one of surprised delight. He sits down. PREM You'll play? JAMAL Why not? PREM Well, well, well. We've got a wild one, here. Prem tears up the cheque with theatrical slowness. (CONTINUED) 30. 42 CONTINUED: 42 PREM (CONT'D) For sixty-four thousand rupees, Ladies and Gentlemen, the question once again.... 43 INT. CHHATRAPATI SHIVAJI TERMINUS. DAY. 43 The digital clocks show five fifteen. Shoving the descending river of people out of his way, the eighteen year-old Jamal is forging a path up steps that cross the platforms. He pushes to the middle of the footbridge and leans out on the side railings. He scans the sea of people, desperately. Then he sees her: the eighteen year-old Latika, heart-stoppingly beautiful, over the other side of the station. A world away. She is scanning the crowd, as wired as he is. JAMAL Latika! Latika! But though he is screaming her name, his voice is swallowed by the noise around him. Then he sees two thuggish-looking men also fighting a way towards her. JAMAL (CONT'D) Latika! Frightened now, he fights his way down the steps, one figure against an army of white-robed people. JAMAL (CONT'D) Latika! JAMAL V/O Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus. PREM V/O Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus. Sure? JAMAL V/O I think so. PREM V/O You think so. A brave man, Ladies and Gentlemen, a brave man. 44 INT. CHHATRAPATI SHIVAJI TERMINUS. DAY. 44 The commuters have mostly gone. Jamal is pacing the platform desperately. He stops, stares blankly at the statue in front of him- a proud, rather pompous figure in a Victorian frock coat. The plaque reads: Frederick Stevens. 31. 45 INT. INSPECTOR'S OFFICE. NIGHT. 45 The Inspector, Srinivas and Jamal are staring at the video recorder. JAMAL Yes. Final answer. Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus. PREM Is the right answer! Sixty-four thousand rupees to you, Sir! Applause and music. The Inspector presses pause. Stares at Jamal. INSPECTOR And did she come back? Jamal smiles sadly. JAMAL I wouldn't be here if she had. INSPECTOR Pretty was she? Jamal stares down at his feet. INSPECTOR (CONT'D) Guess not. Right in the eyes. JAMAL The most beautiful woman in the world. Constable Srinivas snorts. Suddenly, Jamal is out of his chair and at Srinivas' throat. The combined force of the Inspector and Srinivas force him roughly back down. He is again handcuffed to the chair. INSPECTOR OF POLICE Well, well. The slum dog barks. Money or women. The reason for most mistakes in life. Looks like you got mixed up with both. Srinivas, you need the exercise: a trip to VT Station to check on the statue. And lock your bloody bike up. Constable Srinivas swears under his breath but bumbles out. (CONTINUED) 32. 45 CONTINUED: 45 INSPECTOR That's the chutiy out the way. Now, man to man. How did you know all the answers? JAMAL If I knew, I'd tell you. 46 OMITTED 46 47 OMITTED 47 48 INT. STUDIO. NIGHT. 48 PREM Now we're into the serious money. For two hundred and fifty thousand rupees, ladies and gentlemen, a quarter of a million rupees...the song Chalo Ri Murali was written by which famous Indian poet. Was it A) Surdas. B) Tulsidas. C) Mira Bai. D) Kabir. Remember you still have two lifelines- fifty- fifty and Phone A Friend. Tempted to use one? JAMAL No. PREM No? JAMAL I know this one. PREM Oh. I see. An expert on the poets, huh? The lights dim, the music swells and Prem presses his computer. 49 EXT. MUMBAI STREET. NIGHT. 49 Jamal is studying a piece of paper and reading out numbers from it. There is something not quite right about Jamal- perhaps the fact that there are two feet by his ears. Salim is standing on his shoulders and spraying the numbers on a wall with an aerosol and a certain lack of confidence. (CONTINUED) 33. 49 CONTINUED: 49 JAMAL Four, nine, zero, nine- the one with the stick going down, Salim- six- stick going up- Latika's head appears from around the corner. LATIKA (whispered) Oi! But they don't hear. Then she is running for her life past the pair of them. JAMAL Six, one, shit, let's go- Salim collapses off Jamal's shoulders and all three run off down an alley past a dozen of the gang's sprayed-on adverts all reading: "Beanbags- 989 4909661". A fat Security Guard with a long stick huffs round the corner. Chases them up an alley. Nowhere to go except through an imposing gate that clearly leads to a private house. SECURITY GUARD Got you now, little shits. 50 EXT. GARDEN. NIGHT. 50 They charge across the lawn, down one side of the house where all the washing is hanging. The Guard gets caught up in drying sheets, towels. He fights his way through to see Salim, Latika and Jamal leaping over the wall to safety. But Jamal turns, jumps back and grabs a girl's dress from the line. SECURITY GUARD Aha! Little thief! The Security Guard lands a couple of blows on Jamal's back as he dodges around him and back across the lawn, dress in hand. The Security Guard gives up. SECURITY GUARD (CONT'D) Pervert! 51 INT. ALLEY. NIGHT. 51 Jamal is examing the bruises on his legs. SALIM Useless bloody look-out. What good is she, huh? (CONTINUED) 34. 51 CONTINUED: 51 LATIKA (infuriated) I tried to warn you. JAMAL It's okay, Salim. Latika slips on the dress. Spins. Both of them look up. Stare. She pulls her hair back, smiles, is transformed into a beautiful girl. 52 EXT. GORAI BEACH DUMPING GROUND. DAY. 52 Blazing sun. Diggers and trucks are shifting mounds of rubble on a rubbish dump that seems to stretch for ever. Oblivious to the dust kicked up by the trucks, Latika is picking up old plastic bags, examining each one and putting the less worn in a big sack. The dress is recognisable but dusty and torn. She stoops to dig another bag out of the dirt, but stops and stares. Shimmering in the heat, a rickety pick-up truck comes through the rubbish dump gates. Toots at the Guard who waves, pulls up in the dump. "Hope Orphanage is written on the side of the van. A man gets out. Looks around. 53 INT. `TENT'. DAY. 53 Under sheets of plastic propped up on sticks, Jamal and Salim are sleeping out the hottest part of the day. Jamal wakes to see a figure standing over him- a silhouette with a halo of sun behind him. Out of his bag, the man produces a bottle of Thumbs Up. He uncaps it with an alluring hiss. It is almost an advert for thirst-quenching affluence. Almost instinctively, Salim and Jamal stir. MAN Hello. He hands the bottle to Salim, gets another from his bag and waves it questioningly at Jamal. MAN (CONT'D) Hot, huh? My name is Maman. 54 EXT. ORPHANAGE. EVENING. 54 The hills on the edge of Bombay. Greenery and space, for the first time in the film. The pick-up truck pulls up outside a building with Jamal, Salim and Latika sitting on a bench in the back. Maman gets out. Drops the gate on the back of the pick-up. MAMAN Anyone hungry? Come on in. 35. 55 INT. ORPHANAGE COURTYARD. EVENING. 55 Twenty children are eating at long benches in a ramshackle courtyard. Maman, ushers Jamal, Salim and Latika in and sits them down at one of the benches. He waves a hand and a giant man, Punnoose, comes over with a big bowl of food. The three tear into it. Cleaning every last morsel of rice from his plate, Jamal looks up and notices a table peopled entirely with blind or crippled children. Some of the legless are eating on the floor next to the table. Jamal leans over to Salim. JAMAL He must be a very good man to look after these people. SALIM (glancing at them) A saint. Arvind, a boy smaller than either Jamal or Salim overhears. ARVIND We're not allowed to talk to them. LATIKA Why not? Arvind shrugs. Latika licks her plate, glances at Maman who is looking right at them. LATIKA (CONT'D) Well, if there are seconds, Maman is definitely a Saint. As if telepathic, Maman signals to Punnoose and he brings a large bowl of rice and dhal over to them. Latika looks at Jamal and Salim. They burst out laughing. LATIKA (CONT'D) I tell you, Lord Siva is with us. 56 INT. ORPHANAGE. EVENING. 56 Salim, Latika, Jamal and a group of children are standing in a line singing a doha- ancient lyrics set to music. Maman is leading the singing, walking up and down the line listening to each one individually. He stops at one small boy, Arvind, and listens. Nods his head, pleased, and continues down the line until he stops in front of Jamal. Holds up his hand. MAMAN Stop! You. Again. (CONTINUED) 36. 56 CONTINUED: 56 Jamal starts singing again. He has the sweetest of voices. Untrained but pure. Maman smiles, ruffles Jamal's hair, impressed. MAMAN (CONT'D) Everyone. They all join in. Maman continues down the line. He stops at Salim whose octave-slipping singing is lusty and appallingly out of tune. Maman winces and moves on. Standing next to Salim, Latika giggles. Immediately, Salim is on her. Before a fight breaks out, Punnoose pulls Salim off Latika and hurls him across the room. Salim gets up and charges at Punnoose. For a second, Punnoose is back-footed, but then pins Salim's arms to his side. Maman laughs. Approaches Salim. MAMAN (CONT'D) You sing like one, and you fight like one. I think you've found your dog, Punnoose. 57 EXT. CENTRAL MUMBAI TRAFFIC. DAY. 57 A group of children are sitting in the jumble of concrete under a motorway flyover. Cars surround them, bumper to bumper. Latika and Jamal are playing an improvised hopscotch on concrete slabs. They are giggling, bumping into each other, tickling, laughing. Salim and Punnoose are sitting together, smoking. Salim is staring hard at Jamal and Latika until Punnoose grunts, a sign for Salim to clap his hands. SALIM Okay, let's go, let's go! It's not a bloody holiday! The children get to their feet. Latika sighs, puts a patch over her eye and grabs a pair of crutches. Suddenly, the lame beggar. Salim goes over to one of the girls, who is carrying a sleeping baby. Puts out his hand. SALIM (CONT'D) Give me that. The girl shakes her head. Salim grabs her by the hair in one hand and takes the baby with the other. He shoves her to the ground. The other children stare. JAMAL Hey, Salim! He challenges Jamal. SALIM What, chot bhai? You got a problem? (CONTINUED) 37. 57 CONTINUED: 57 He laughs and walks over to Latika. SALIM (CONT'D) Here. For you. LATIKA I don't want it. SALIM You'll earn double. I'm doing you a favour, Latika. JAMAL She doesn't want it. SALIM Chup, Jamal. Latika turns away and begins to walk towards the cars. SALIM (CONT'D) I'll drop it. He holds the baby up. Latika grabs the baby with a cry just as Salim releases it from his hands. Salim pinches the baby. SALIM (CONT'D) Triple if it's crying. Latika snatches it away. Salim laughs, goes back to sitting with Punnoose. The children scatter to the cars trapped at the lights, tapping plaintively on the windows and making the universal begging gesture. 58 INT. ORPHANAGE. KITCHEN. NIGHT. 58 Surrounded by beer bottles, Punnoose is slumped asleep by the kitchen door. Latika edges past, avoids the cook sleeping under the table and goes to a shelf laden with vegetables. She pulls down a bunch of chillies still on the vine, strips a few off and tip-toes out with them. 59 INT. ORPHANAGE. DORMITORY. NIGHT. 59 Sleeping children, three or four to a mattress on the floor. Latika tip-toes around the mattresses. She pauses over one in particular where we see Salim, asleep. She carefully pulls up the sheet, delves underneath. Pleasant dreams cross Salim's sleeping face for a second. Then suddenly, he is bolt upright and screaming. He charges around the room clutching his genitals in agony. SALIM Madher chod...! (CONTINUED) 38. 59 CONTINUED: 59 He sprints out of the room, wailing. 60 INT. ORPHANAGE. SHOWERS. NIGHT. 60 The lights are on and two dozen children are screaming with laughter as Salim stands under the make-shift shower directing the water down his pants to his burning genitals, his face a picture of agony. Latika wipes crushed chillies from her hands. SALIM You're dead, sala. She smiles and walks past Jamal with a shrug. Then Punnoose comes stalking in and the children scatter away. PUNNOOSE Get back to bed, dogs! What the hell... JAMAL V/O They taught me every song in the history of Indian music. INSPECTOR V/O And why would they do that, I wonder? 61 INT. SHACK. NIGHT. 61 In a shack, Arvind is singing one of Surdas' bhajans in front of Maman and an old man who by his ragged appearance must be a villager. Punnoose and Salim sit behind Arvind. MAMAN Very good, very good. I am pleased, Arvind. He is ready. ARVIND Ready? Maman nods to Punnoose. Before Arvind can turn round, Punnoose has covered his mouth with a cloth and after the briefest of struggles, Arvind's body goes limp. The villager puts an old tin box on the table. Taking the lid from the tin, he brings out a cloth and unwraps it. Inside is a spoon. He checks the edge with his thumb. Sharp. Douses it with a clear liquid from a bottle and passes it over a candle flame. The spoon whooshes with a high flame for a moment. The villager wipes it with the cloth nods to Punnoose. PUNNOOSE Salim! (CONTINUED) 39. 61 CONTINUED: 61 Utterly bemused, Salim nevertheless helps Punnoose lay Arvind on the table. The villager takes hold of Arvind's eyelid and pulls it open. He brings the spoon close. Suddenly, Salim is being sick in the corner of the shack. By the time he has turned back, the villager is wiping the spoon on a blood-soaked rag. MAMAN Okay. Take him out the back. Punnoose picks up Arvind and carries him out. MAMAN (CONT'D) Now the other one. Salim, go get Jamal. A frozen moment. SALIM What? MAMAN Gunfighter Number One, isn't that right, Salim? The money, the women, the cars...you want them bad, huh? And why not? Maman gets out of his chair. Approaches Salim. MAMAN (CONT'D) The time has come to choose, yaar. The life of a slum dog or the life of a man. A real man. A gunfighter, Salim. Maman holds Salim's head in his hands. MAMAN (CONT'D) Your destiny is in your hands, bhai. You can be me. Or nobody. Understand? SALIM Yes, Maman. Maman nods. MAMAN So, brother, go get Jamal. Salim is frozen for another few seconds, then turns and walks out of the door. Punnoose appears at the door. Maman nods to him and he slips off after Salim. 62 INT. DORMITORY, ORPHANAGE. NIGHT. 62 All the children are asleep apart from Jamal who is crouched underneath a couple of wash-basins. (CONTINUED) 40. 62 CONTINUED: 62 He is talking through a plate-sized hole in the crumbling masonry. Latika's eyes can be seen. JAMAL ...weddings, government things, big parties. If Maman says my voice is ready. Big money. LATIKA Enough for a room? JAMAL Easily. Maybe an apartment. LATIKA Really? JAMAL That's what Arvind said. On Harbour Road. You, me and Salim. The three musketeers. LATIKA Harbour Road! We can have ice cream from Babanji's. JAMAL Every day if we want. Salim appears at the door. Nods his head at Jamal. JAMAL (CONT'D) It's my turn. LATIKA Good luck, Jamal. Latika's hand comes through the gap. Jamal takes it for a moment. Salim hisses at Jamal. He lets go of the hand and heads out. 63 EXT. PATH. NIGHT. 63 Salim and Jamal walk along the path, Jamal humming happily. Salim checks behind him, sees Punnoose following. JAMAL So, this is it, hey, bhai? The good life, here we come.... SALIM (conversationally) Athos. Jamal is suddenly alert. Slows (CONTINUED) 41. 63 CONTINUED: 63 JAMAL Porthos? Salim nods. Big smile. Puts a hand on Jamal's shoulder. SALIM When I say. 64 INT. SHACK. NIGHT. 64 Salim guides Jamal into the shack where Maman and the Villager are waiting. Maman smiles. Punnoose slips in behind Salim. MAMAN Jamal, hello. You have done well. It's time for you to- turn professional. JAMAL Really? MAMAN Sing me a song, yaar. How about Chalo Ri Murali, huh? My favourite. Jamal opens his mouth, then closes it again. Holds out his hand. JAMAL Fifty rupees. MAMAN What? JAMAL (shrugs) I've turned professional. What can I do? Maman laughs. MAMAN Sala...! He throws some notes at him. 65 EXT. SHACK. NIGHT. 65 Outside, a giggle. Latika is peering through a gap in the wall. 42. 66 INT. SHACK. NIGHT. 66 Jamal begins to sing. Maman waits a while, then nods to Punnoose. Behind Jamal, Punnoose hands Salim the bottle of chloroform and the rag. Salim approaches the back of Jamal. Salim waits until he has finished the song. Raises his hand with the rag in it. Maman smiles, nods. Salim flings the contents of the bottle in Punnoose's face. Punnoose screams and stumbles back clutching his eyes, knocking over the table. SALIM Go! Salim and Jamal scramble for the door. The knocked-over candle catches the spilled chloroform and a curtain which whooshes up in flame. LATIKA Jamal! JAMAL Run! 66A EXT. SHACK. NIGHT. 66A They charge past the prone Arvind- a flash of bloodied bandages covering his eyes. 67 EXT. HILLSIDE. NIGHT. 67 Heavy, desperate breathing. Feet stumble on roots. Fall into holes. The three children are running. Branches smack into their faces. But they are so scared, nothing will stop them. Behind them, torches scour the undergrowth. Men shouting. They break out of the woods and are confronted with a train goods yard. 68 EXT. GOODS YARD. NIGHT. 68 They run over the tracks, between the trains, but the shouts are getting louder, the torches closer. A diesel engine is moving out of the station. Jamal, Latika and Salim sprint for the Guard's Van at the very back of the moving train. Punnoose is closest to them. Salim is fastest and first to jump the train. He holds out his hand. Jamal grabs it and is hauled in. Jamal holds his hand out to Latika. JAMAL Come on! Faster! She reaches out to him. Their hands almost touch. (CONTINUED) 43. 68 CONTINUED: 68 JAMAL (CONT'D) Take it! Take it! I can't reach... Salim barges Jamal out of the way. Jamal stumbles back as Salim reaches his hand out to Latika, so he doesn't see Latika's hand grasp Salim's, nor see their eyes lock onto each other, nor see Salim very deliberately let go of her hand. Latika stumbles. LATIKA Jamal! Jamal scrambles to the rail. The train gains more speed. Jamal climbs on to the top rung, makes to jump, but Salim flings him backward. Jamal tries to scramble to his feet again, but Salim restrains him. JAMAL Got to go back. We've got to go back. SALIM He'll kill us if we go back. Jamal! He was going to take your eyes out- with a bloody spoon! The train is speeding along. Jamal breaks free and stares back at Latika. SALIM (CONT'D) She'll be alright. She always is. Latika stumbles again and stops running. They watch as Punnoose catches up with her and stops running. He smashes Latika to the ground. 69 INT. STUDIO. NIGHT. 69 PREM The question was, for two hundred and fifty thousand rupees: who wrote the famous song Chalo Ri Murali. I should warn you, Jamal: from this question on, if you get the answer wrong you lose everything. So. Are you sure? The life-lines are there.... JAMAL Surdas. PREM Surdas. Apka final jawab? (CONTINUED) 44. 69 CONTINUED: 69 JAMAL Yes. PREM Computer-ji, A lock kiya-jaye. The lights dim, the music swells. Prem presses a button on his computer: looks him straight in the eyes for an age. PREM (CONT'D) (simply) Guess what? You're right. Applause, music, lights. 70 INT. INSPECTOR'S OFFICE. DAY. 70 The Inspector is eying Jamal, weighing it all up. JAMAL (shrugging) Blind singers earn double. You know that. INSPECTOR And what happened to the girl? They blinded her too? JAMAL (shakes his head) They had other plans. Though it took me a long, long time to find out. 71 EXT. TRAIN. MORNING. 71 Salim and Jamal are sitting on top of the train. Jamal is staring blankly down the track. SALIM Ar , Jamal... Salim puts an arm around Jamal's shoulder. Jamal wipes the tears from his eyes, shakes his head furiously. Salim gets up. Holds out his hand. SALIM (CONT'D) Come. JAMAL Where you going? SALIM First class, bhai. Where else? 45.

mounds

How many times the word 'mounds' appears in the text?

to a colleague. Puts out his cigarette with purpose. JAMAL Let's go, bhai. Salim and Jamal run. The girl follows. 22. 33 EXT. MUMBAI. EVENING. 33 Salim and Jamal stand on a hill overlooking the city. Black smoke billows from a large area that is clearly the Juhu slum. Standing a little way off is the girl. JAMAL We should go back. Silence. JAMAL (CONT'D) See if Ama- Salim shakes his head fiercely, silencing Jamal for a moment. But only a moment. JAMAL (CONT'D) What about Jeevan Chacha? Salim shakes his head. JAMAL (CONT'D) Maybe he- Salim shakes his head again. SALIM - I saw him. He was with them. JAMAL But he wouldn't hurt- SALIM - he was with them! JAMAL But- SALIM - shut up, Jamal, can't you? Just shut up! Salim turns away and sees the girl. Picks up a rock and hurls it at her. She dodges, takes a couple of steps back but makes no real attempt to get away. He finds another rock and hurls this in her direction too. SALIM (CONT'D) Ja! Then a flash of lightning and thunder rumbles across the city. Rain begins to come down. JAMAL What shall we do? (CONTINUED) 23. 33 CONTINUED: 33 No answer. Jamal sits down. Salim sits down. At a distance, the girl sits down. Rain pours down their faces. 34 INT. BUILDER'S YARD. NIGHT. 34 Rain as you've never seen. A pile of huge water pipes in a sprawling builder's yard. Jamal is in one pipe, Salim above him in another. They are both soaked, shivering, but have found some plastic sheet to wrap themselves in. Outside, thirty feet away, stands the girl. Staring. Salim hisses angrily at the girl. SALIM Go away. Ja, ja! The girl might not even have heard. SALIM (CONT'D) She'll have the Security Guard onto us, standing there. JAMAL Not if we let her in. SALIM No. JAMAL She could be the third musketeer. SALIM I am the head of this family, now. And I say no. Piss off, you. Salim huddles down in the pipe. After a while, Jamal follows suit. SALIM (CONT'D) We don't even know what the third musketeer's called. 35 EXT. JUHU SLUM. DAY 35 A flash of Jamal's mother being clubbed to the ground. Her scream. 36 INT. BUILDER'S YARD. LATER. 36 Jamal wakes with a jolt and a scream half-swallowed in his mouth. He shuts his eyes tight, trying to force the image out. His breathing slows and he sees the girl staring at him. Salim, too, is staring into nothing. The rain is still falling. (CONTINUED) 24. 36 CONTINUED: 36 The girl goes back to drawing shapes in the mud with her finger. Jamal climbs out of the pipe. Looks at Salim for permission or refusal, but he just continues to stare. So, Jamal walks across to her. She looks up, wary. JAMAL Where's your Mother? Silence. JAMAL (CONT'D) Father? The girl shakes her head slightly. Jamal takes the plastic sheet from around his shoulders. Gives it to her. JAMAL (CONT'D) I'm Jamal. He's Salim. LATIKA Latika. Jamal goes back to his water pipe, climbs in. Watches her huddled under the sheet. Sighs, motions for her to join him. She darts across, jumps into the water pipe and huddles up next to Jamal. 37 INT. INSPECTOR'S OFFICE. DAY. 37 Jamal looks at the Inspector. JAMAL I wake up every morning wishing I didn't know the answer to that question? If it wasn't for Ram and Allah, I would still have a Mother. 38 INT. STUDIO. NIGHT 38 JAMAL D) A bow and arrow. PREM Final answer? JAMAL Final answer. Prem stares at him for dramatic effect. Presses his computer. PREM Computer-ji, D lock kiya-jaye. (CONTINUED) 25. 38 CONTINUED: 38 The lights dim, the music swells. PREM (CONT'D) Jamal Malik, you answered D? Ram is depicted with a bow and arrow in his hand. And guess what? You've just won sixteen thousand rupees! Well done, my friend. Time for a commercial break- don't go away, now. Music, applause. Prem switches off his professional smile. Gets up. PREM (CONT'D) Got lucky, huh? I'd take the money. You'll never get the next one. JAMAL You're from the Juhu slum, aren't you? PREM Hmm? Sure. Know where I live now, kid? Pali Hill. Twelve bedrooms, a/c in every room, two kitchens, a gym and a screening room. Steel balls is what it takes, my friend, steel balls. The Floor Manager comes over and gives his head-phones set to Prem. Prem listens. DIRECTOR V/O Prem? Tone it down, for goodness sake. You're making him a laughing stock. Prem glances up at the gallery with contempt. PREM We're having fun here. They love it...Where the hell do you get them from? He makes no attempt to hide the conversation from Jamal. DIRECTOR V/O It's supposed to be a quiz show, not a blood sport. FLOOR MANAGER Two minutes. (CONTINUED) 26. 38 CONTINUED: (2) 38 PREM Stop wetting your pants. I'll be a good little boy with the next one. Promise. He chucks the head-phones back at the Floor Manager. Glances in the wings. Sees Nita, the make-up woman. Gets up and goes over. 39 INT. STUDIO. BACKSTAGE. NIGHT. 39 In the half-light, backstage, Nita dabs his face with powder. PREM Meet me after the show. Please. NITA No. PREM Nita, I can explain. NITA No need. I read it in bloody Stardust. Didn't even have the balls to tell me. "Prem's happiness with another baby on the way". After everything you said... PREM Baby, it all happened before I met you. I swear to you. NITA She's got the gestation period of an elephant, then. Prem is about to object. But instead, he laughs. PREM You see? Amidst all this misery, only you can make me laugh. Scornful but hints of melting. NITA All this misery... PREM Her and I- nothing. You have to believe me, baby... Nita turns away. The Floor Manager comes over. FLOOR MANAGER One minute. (CONTINUED) 27. 39 CONTINUED: 39 Prem slings himself in a chair. PREM No. I'm not going on. NITA Prem... PREM I can't. Without you, it's all pointless. Clicks his fingers at the Floor Manager. PREM (CONT'D) You. Tell the Director. Nita shakes her head at the Floor Manager who by now is looking very worried. FLOOR MANAGER Thirty seconds. Prem shrugs and folds his arms. Sees her weaken. NITA Prem... PREM Calypso Bar, private room, just you and me? FLOOR MANAGER Fifteen. NITA (furious) Alright. He grins, jumps up, blows her a kiss, and stalks back on stage. 40 INT. STUDIO. NIGHT. 40 He sits back down, says almost to himself. PREM Steel balls. Turns to Jamal. PREM (CONT'D) Okay, Juhu boy, you've had a good run. Take your Mother to Khandala and eat some chiki. JAMAL My Mother's dead. (CONTINUED) 28. 40 CONTINUED: 40 PREM Well, your girlfriend then. Even better. JAMAL I don't have a girl-friend. PREM Live wire like you? You surprise me. FLOOR MANAGER Five, four... The warm-up man starts the applause. TALKBACK V/O ....three, two, one... Cheering and music. Prem switches on his charm. PREM Welcome back to Who Wants to be a Millionaire! Our contestant, Jamal Malik, Call Centre Assistant- from Mumbai, is on sixteen thousand rupees and has already used one lifeline: Ask the Audience. So, my friend: are you ready for the next question? JAMAL Yes. PREM Then, let's play. Portentous music. The lights dim. PREM (CONT'D) For sixty-four thousand rupees. The British architect Frederick Stevens designed which famous building in India? Is it: A) The Taj Mahal. B) Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus. C) India Gate. D) Howrah Bridge. What do you think, Jamal? Are you one of those tea-boys with a penchant for architecture? 41 INT. CHHATRAPATI SHIVAJI TERMINUS. DAY. 41 Known to everyone as VT station, this monument to Victorian railway architecture is a dangerous place to be at rush hour. (CONTINUED) 29. 41 CONTINUED: 41 Even before the train has stopped, men are jumping from the open doors, or vaulting out of the windows or from the roof of the train to join the tens of thousands of Mumbaites streaming to and from work. A seventeen-year old Jamal squeezes himself out of a train and shoves through the crowds. He checks the time. The digital numerals flick to five O'clock. Looks around the tide of humanity. 42 INT. STUDIO. NIGHT. 42 PREM So, what's it to be? Walk away and this cheque for sixteen thousand rupees is yours. Look, it's even got your name on it. He produces a cheque and waves it at Jamal. JAMAL I don't have a bank account. Laughter from the audience. Prem is momentarily wrong- footed. JAMAL (CONT'D) But I'll take cash. More laughter, this time with Jamal, rather than at him. Prem gets up and starts rummaging theatrically through his jacket pockets and trousers. PREM Nope. Looks like the Producer's stolen my wallet again- JAMAL - I'll play. Nobody was expecting this. Least of all Prem who has to rearrange his features into one of surprised delight. He sits down. PREM You'll play? JAMAL Why not? PREM Well, well, well. We've got a wild one, here. Prem tears up the cheque with theatrical slowness. (CONTINUED) 30. 42 CONTINUED: 42 PREM (CONT'D) For sixty-four thousand rupees, Ladies and Gentlemen, the question once again.... 43 INT. CHHATRAPATI SHIVAJI TERMINUS. DAY. 43 The digital clocks show five fifteen. Shoving the descending river of people out of his way, the eighteen year-old Jamal is forging a path up steps that cross the platforms. He pushes to the middle of the footbridge and leans out on the side railings. He scans the sea of people, desperately. Then he sees her: the eighteen year-old Latika, heart-stoppingly beautiful, over the other side of the station. A world away. She is scanning the crowd, as wired as he is. JAMAL Latika! Latika! But though he is screaming her name, his voice is swallowed by the noise around him. Then he sees two thuggish-looking men also fighting a way towards her. JAMAL (CONT'D) Latika! Frightened now, he fights his way down the steps, one figure against an army of white-robed people. JAMAL (CONT'D) Latika! JAMAL V/O Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus. PREM V/O Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus. Sure? JAMAL V/O I think so. PREM V/O You think so. A brave man, Ladies and Gentlemen, a brave man. 44 INT. CHHATRAPATI SHIVAJI TERMINUS. DAY. 44 The commuters have mostly gone. Jamal is pacing the platform desperately. He stops, stares blankly at the statue in front of him- a proud, rather pompous figure in a Victorian frock coat. The plaque reads: Frederick Stevens. 31. 45 INT. INSPECTOR'S OFFICE. NIGHT. 45 The Inspector, Srinivas and Jamal are staring at the video recorder. JAMAL Yes. Final answer. Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus. PREM Is the right answer! Sixty-four thousand rupees to you, Sir! Applause and music. The Inspector presses pause. Stares at Jamal. INSPECTOR And did she come back? Jamal smiles sadly. JAMAL I wouldn't be here if she had. INSPECTOR Pretty was she? Jamal stares down at his feet. INSPECTOR (CONT'D) Guess not. Right in the eyes. JAMAL The most beautiful woman in the world. Constable Srinivas snorts. Suddenly, Jamal is out of his chair and at Srinivas' throat. The combined force of the Inspector and Srinivas force him roughly back down. He is again handcuffed to the chair. INSPECTOR OF POLICE Well, well. The slum dog barks. Money or women. The reason for most mistakes in life. Looks like you got mixed up with both. Srinivas, you need the exercise: a trip to VT Station to check on the statue. And lock your bloody bike up. Constable Srinivas swears under his breath but bumbles out. (CONTINUED) 32. 45 CONTINUED: 45 INSPECTOR That's the chutiy out the way. Now, man to man. How did you know all the answers? JAMAL If I knew, I'd tell you. 46 OMITTED 46 47 OMITTED 47 48 INT. STUDIO. NIGHT. 48 PREM Now we're into the serious money. For two hundred and fifty thousand rupees, ladies and gentlemen, a quarter of a million rupees...the song Chalo Ri Murali was written by which famous Indian poet. Was it A) Surdas. B) Tulsidas. C) Mira Bai. D) Kabir. Remember you still have two lifelines- fifty- fifty and Phone A Friend. Tempted to use one? JAMAL No. PREM No? JAMAL I know this one. PREM Oh. I see. An expert on the poets, huh? The lights dim, the music swells and Prem presses his computer. 49 EXT. MUMBAI STREET. NIGHT. 49 Jamal is studying a piece of paper and reading out numbers from it. There is something not quite right about Jamal- perhaps the fact that there are two feet by his ears. Salim is standing on his shoulders and spraying the numbers on a wall with an aerosol and a certain lack of confidence. (CONTINUED) 33. 49 CONTINUED: 49 JAMAL Four, nine, zero, nine- the one with the stick going down, Salim- six- stick going up- Latika's head appears from around the corner. LATIKA (whispered) Oi! But they don't hear. Then she is running for her life past the pair of them. JAMAL Six, one, shit, let's go- Salim collapses off Jamal's shoulders and all three run off down an alley past a dozen of the gang's sprayed-on adverts all reading: "Beanbags- 989 4909661". A fat Security Guard with a long stick huffs round the corner. Chases them up an alley. Nowhere to go except through an imposing gate that clearly leads to a private house. SECURITY GUARD Got you now, little shits. 50 EXT. GARDEN. NIGHT. 50 They charge across the lawn, down one side of the house where all the washing is hanging. The Guard gets caught up in drying sheets, towels. He fights his way through to see Salim, Latika and Jamal leaping over the wall to safety. But Jamal turns, jumps back and grabs a girl's dress from the line. SECURITY GUARD Aha! Little thief! The Security Guard lands a couple of blows on Jamal's back as he dodges around him and back across the lawn, dress in hand. The Security Guard gives up. SECURITY GUARD (CONT'D) Pervert! 51 INT. ALLEY. NIGHT. 51 Jamal is examing the bruises on his legs. SALIM Useless bloody look-out. What good is she, huh? (CONTINUED) 34. 51 CONTINUED: 51 LATIKA (infuriated) I tried to warn you. JAMAL It's okay, Salim. Latika slips on the dress. Spins. Both of them look up. Stare. She pulls her hair back, smiles, is transformed into a beautiful girl. 52 EXT. GORAI BEACH DUMPING GROUND. DAY. 52 Blazing sun. Diggers and trucks are shifting mounds of rubble on a rubbish dump that seems to stretch for ever. Oblivious to the dust kicked up by the trucks, Latika is picking up old plastic bags, examining each one and putting the less worn in a big sack. The dress is recognisable but dusty and torn. She stoops to dig another bag out of the dirt, but stops and stares. Shimmering in the heat, a rickety pick-up truck comes through the rubbish dump gates. Toots at the Guard who waves, pulls up in the dump. "Hope Orphanage is written on the side of the van. A man gets out. Looks around. 53 INT. `TENT'. DAY. 53 Under sheets of plastic propped up on sticks, Jamal and Salim are sleeping out the hottest part of the day. Jamal wakes to see a figure standing over him- a silhouette with a halo of sun behind him. Out of his bag, the man produces a bottle of Thumbs Up. He uncaps it with an alluring hiss. It is almost an advert for thirst-quenching affluence. Almost instinctively, Salim and Jamal stir. MAN Hello. He hands the bottle to Salim, gets another from his bag and waves it questioningly at Jamal. MAN (CONT'D) Hot, huh? My name is Maman. 54 EXT. ORPHANAGE. EVENING. 54 The hills on the edge of Bombay. Greenery and space, for the first time in the film. The pick-up truck pulls up outside a building with Jamal, Salim and Latika sitting on a bench in the back. Maman gets out. Drops the gate on the back of the pick-up. MAMAN Anyone hungry? Come on in. 35. 55 INT. ORPHANAGE COURTYARD. EVENING. 55 Twenty children are eating at long benches in a ramshackle courtyard. Maman, ushers Jamal, Salim and Latika in and sits them down at one of the benches. He waves a hand and a giant man, Punnoose, comes over with a big bowl of food. The three tear into it. Cleaning every last morsel of rice from his plate, Jamal looks up and notices a table peopled entirely with blind or crippled children. Some of the legless are eating on the floor next to the table. Jamal leans over to Salim. JAMAL He must be a very good man to look after these people. SALIM (glancing at them) A saint. Arvind, a boy smaller than either Jamal or Salim overhears. ARVIND We're not allowed to talk to them. LATIKA Why not? Arvind shrugs. Latika licks her plate, glances at Maman who is looking right at them. LATIKA (CONT'D) Well, if there are seconds, Maman is definitely a Saint. As if telepathic, Maman signals to Punnoose and he brings a large bowl of rice and dhal over to them. Latika looks at Jamal and Salim. They burst out laughing. LATIKA (CONT'D) I tell you, Lord Siva is with us. 56 INT. ORPHANAGE. EVENING. 56 Salim, Latika, Jamal and a group of children are standing in a line singing a doha- ancient lyrics set to music. Maman is leading the singing, walking up and down the line listening to each one individually. He stops at one small boy, Arvind, and listens. Nods his head, pleased, and continues down the line until he stops in front of Jamal. Holds up his hand. MAMAN Stop! You. Again. (CONTINUED) 36. 56 CONTINUED: 56 Jamal starts singing again. He has the sweetest of voices. Untrained but pure. Maman smiles, ruffles Jamal's hair, impressed. MAMAN (CONT'D) Everyone. They all join in. Maman continues down the line. He stops at Salim whose octave-slipping singing is lusty and appallingly out of tune. Maman winces and moves on. Standing next to Salim, Latika giggles. Immediately, Salim is on her. Before a fight breaks out, Punnoose pulls Salim off Latika and hurls him across the room. Salim gets up and charges at Punnoose. For a second, Punnoose is back-footed, but then pins Salim's arms to his side. Maman laughs. Approaches Salim. MAMAN (CONT'D) You sing like one, and you fight like one. I think you've found your dog, Punnoose. 57 EXT. CENTRAL MUMBAI TRAFFIC. DAY. 57 A group of children are sitting in the jumble of concrete under a motorway flyover. Cars surround them, bumper to bumper. Latika and Jamal are playing an improvised hopscotch on concrete slabs. They are giggling, bumping into each other, tickling, laughing. Salim and Punnoose are sitting together, smoking. Salim is staring hard at Jamal and Latika until Punnoose grunts, a sign for Salim to clap his hands. SALIM Okay, let's go, let's go! It's not a bloody holiday! The children get to their feet. Latika sighs, puts a patch over her eye and grabs a pair of crutches. Suddenly, the lame beggar. Salim goes over to one of the girls, who is carrying a sleeping baby. Puts out his hand. SALIM (CONT'D) Give me that. The girl shakes her head. Salim grabs her by the hair in one hand and takes the baby with the other. He shoves her to the ground. The other children stare. JAMAL Hey, Salim! He challenges Jamal. SALIM What, chot bhai? You got a problem? (CONTINUED) 37. 57 CONTINUED: 57 He laughs and walks over to Latika. SALIM (CONT'D) Here. For you. LATIKA I don't want it. SALIM You'll earn double. I'm doing you a favour, Latika. JAMAL She doesn't want it. SALIM Chup, Jamal. Latika turns away and begins to walk towards the cars. SALIM (CONT'D) I'll drop it. He holds the baby up. Latika grabs the baby with a cry just as Salim releases it from his hands. Salim pinches the baby. SALIM (CONT'D) Triple if it's crying. Latika snatches it away. Salim laughs, goes back to sitting with Punnoose. The children scatter to the cars trapped at the lights, tapping plaintively on the windows and making the universal begging gesture. 58 INT. ORPHANAGE. KITCHEN. NIGHT. 58 Surrounded by beer bottles, Punnoose is slumped asleep by the kitchen door. Latika edges past, avoids the cook sleeping under the table and goes to a shelf laden with vegetables. She pulls down a bunch of chillies still on the vine, strips a few off and tip-toes out with them. 59 INT. ORPHANAGE. DORMITORY. NIGHT. 59 Sleeping children, three or four to a mattress on the floor. Latika tip-toes around the mattresses. She pauses over one in particular where we see Salim, asleep. She carefully pulls up the sheet, delves underneath. Pleasant dreams cross Salim's sleeping face for a second. Then suddenly, he is bolt upright and screaming. He charges around the room clutching his genitals in agony. SALIM Madher chod...! (CONTINUED) 38. 59 CONTINUED: 59 He sprints out of the room, wailing. 60 INT. ORPHANAGE. SHOWERS. NIGHT. 60 The lights are on and two dozen children are screaming with laughter as Salim stands under the make-shift shower directing the water down his pants to his burning genitals, his face a picture of agony. Latika wipes crushed chillies from her hands. SALIM You're dead, sala. She smiles and walks past Jamal with a shrug. Then Punnoose comes stalking in and the children scatter away. PUNNOOSE Get back to bed, dogs! What the hell... JAMAL V/O They taught me every song in the history of Indian music. INSPECTOR V/O And why would they do that, I wonder? 61 INT. SHACK. NIGHT. 61 In a shack, Arvind is singing one of Surdas' bhajans in front of Maman and an old man who by his ragged appearance must be a villager. Punnoose and Salim sit behind Arvind. MAMAN Very good, very good. I am pleased, Arvind. He is ready. ARVIND Ready? Maman nods to Punnoose. Before Arvind can turn round, Punnoose has covered his mouth with a cloth and after the briefest of struggles, Arvind's body goes limp. The villager puts an old tin box on the table. Taking the lid from the tin, he brings out a cloth and unwraps it. Inside is a spoon. He checks the edge with his thumb. Sharp. Douses it with a clear liquid from a bottle and passes it over a candle flame. The spoon whooshes with a high flame for a moment. The villager wipes it with the cloth nods to Punnoose. PUNNOOSE Salim! (CONTINUED) 39. 61 CONTINUED: 61 Utterly bemused, Salim nevertheless helps Punnoose lay Arvind on the table. The villager takes hold of Arvind's eyelid and pulls it open. He brings the spoon close. Suddenly, Salim is being sick in the corner of the shack. By the time he has turned back, the villager is wiping the spoon on a blood-soaked rag. MAMAN Okay. Take him out the back. Punnoose picks up Arvind and carries him out. MAMAN (CONT'D) Now the other one. Salim, go get Jamal. A frozen moment. SALIM What? MAMAN Gunfighter Number One, isn't that right, Salim? The money, the women, the cars...you want them bad, huh? And why not? Maman gets out of his chair. Approaches Salim. MAMAN (CONT'D) The time has come to choose, yaar. The life of a slum dog or the life of a man. A real man. A gunfighter, Salim. Maman holds Salim's head in his hands. MAMAN (CONT'D) Your destiny is in your hands, bhai. You can be me. Or nobody. Understand? SALIM Yes, Maman. Maman nods. MAMAN So, brother, go get Jamal. Salim is frozen for another few seconds, then turns and walks out of the door. Punnoose appears at the door. Maman nods to him and he slips off after Salim. 62 INT. DORMITORY, ORPHANAGE. NIGHT. 62 All the children are asleep apart from Jamal who is crouched underneath a couple of wash-basins. (CONTINUED) 40. 62 CONTINUED: 62 He is talking through a plate-sized hole in the crumbling masonry. Latika's eyes can be seen. JAMAL ...weddings, government things, big parties. If Maman says my voice is ready. Big money. LATIKA Enough for a room? JAMAL Easily. Maybe an apartment. LATIKA Really? JAMAL That's what Arvind said. On Harbour Road. You, me and Salim. The three musketeers. LATIKA Harbour Road! We can have ice cream from Babanji's. JAMAL Every day if we want. Salim appears at the door. Nods his head at Jamal. JAMAL (CONT'D) It's my turn. LATIKA Good luck, Jamal. Latika's hand comes through the gap. Jamal takes it for a moment. Salim hisses at Jamal. He lets go of the hand and heads out. 63 EXT. PATH. NIGHT. 63 Salim and Jamal walk along the path, Jamal humming happily. Salim checks behind him, sees Punnoose following. JAMAL So, this is it, hey, bhai? The good life, here we come.... SALIM (conversationally) Athos. Jamal is suddenly alert. Slows (CONTINUED) 41. 63 CONTINUED: 63 JAMAL Porthos? Salim nods. Big smile. Puts a hand on Jamal's shoulder. SALIM When I say. 64 INT. SHACK. NIGHT. 64 Salim guides Jamal into the shack where Maman and the Villager are waiting. Maman smiles. Punnoose slips in behind Salim. MAMAN Jamal, hello. You have done well. It's time for you to- turn professional. JAMAL Really? MAMAN Sing me a song, yaar. How about Chalo Ri Murali, huh? My favourite. Jamal opens his mouth, then closes it again. Holds out his hand. JAMAL Fifty rupees. MAMAN What? JAMAL (shrugs) I've turned professional. What can I do? Maman laughs. MAMAN Sala...! He throws some notes at him. 65 EXT. SHACK. NIGHT. 65 Outside, a giggle. Latika is peering through a gap in the wall. 42. 66 INT. SHACK. NIGHT. 66 Jamal begins to sing. Maman waits a while, then nods to Punnoose. Behind Jamal, Punnoose hands Salim the bottle of chloroform and the rag. Salim approaches the back of Jamal. Salim waits until he has finished the song. Raises his hand with the rag in it. Maman smiles, nods. Salim flings the contents of the bottle in Punnoose's face. Punnoose screams and stumbles back clutching his eyes, knocking over the table. SALIM Go! Salim and Jamal scramble for the door. The knocked-over candle catches the spilled chloroform and a curtain which whooshes up in flame. LATIKA Jamal! JAMAL Run! 66A EXT. SHACK. NIGHT. 66A They charge past the prone Arvind- a flash of bloodied bandages covering his eyes. 67 EXT. HILLSIDE. NIGHT. 67 Heavy, desperate breathing. Feet stumble on roots. Fall into holes. The three children are running. Branches smack into their faces. But they are so scared, nothing will stop them. Behind them, torches scour the undergrowth. Men shouting. They break out of the woods and are confronted with a train goods yard. 68 EXT. GOODS YARD. NIGHT. 68 They run over the tracks, between the trains, but the shouts are getting louder, the torches closer. A diesel engine is moving out of the station. Jamal, Latika and Salim sprint for the Guard's Van at the very back of the moving train. Punnoose is closest to them. Salim is fastest and first to jump the train. He holds out his hand. Jamal grabs it and is hauled in. Jamal holds his hand out to Latika. JAMAL Come on! Faster! She reaches out to him. Their hands almost touch. (CONTINUED) 43. 68 CONTINUED: 68 JAMAL (CONT'D) Take it! Take it! I can't reach... Salim barges Jamal out of the way. Jamal stumbles back as Salim reaches his hand out to Latika, so he doesn't see Latika's hand grasp Salim's, nor see their eyes lock onto each other, nor see Salim very deliberately let go of her hand. Latika stumbles. LATIKA Jamal! Jamal scrambles to the rail. The train gains more speed. Jamal climbs on to the top rung, makes to jump, but Salim flings him backward. Jamal tries to scramble to his feet again, but Salim restrains him. JAMAL Got to go back. We've got to go back. SALIM He'll kill us if we go back. Jamal! He was going to take your eyes out- with a bloody spoon! The train is speeding along. Jamal breaks free and stares back at Latika. SALIM (CONT'D) She'll be alright. She always is. Latika stumbles again and stops running. They watch as Punnoose catches up with her and stops running. He smashes Latika to the ground. 69 INT. STUDIO. NIGHT. 69 PREM The question was, for two hundred and fifty thousand rupees: who wrote the famous song Chalo Ri Murali. I should warn you, Jamal: from this question on, if you get the answer wrong you lose everything. So. Are you sure? The life-lines are there.... JAMAL Surdas. PREM Surdas. Apka final jawab? (CONTINUED) 44. 69 CONTINUED: 69 JAMAL Yes. PREM Computer-ji, A lock kiya-jaye. The lights dim, the music swells. Prem presses a button on his computer: looks him straight in the eyes for an age. PREM (CONT'D) (simply) Guess what? You're right. Applause, music, lights. 70 INT. INSPECTOR'S OFFICE. DAY. 70 The Inspector is eying Jamal, weighing it all up. JAMAL (shrugging) Blind singers earn double. You know that. INSPECTOR And what happened to the girl? They blinded her too? JAMAL (shakes his head) They had other plans. Though it took me a long, long time to find out. 71 EXT. TRAIN. MORNING. 71 Salim and Jamal are sitting on top of the train. Jamal is staring blankly down the track. SALIM Ar , Jamal... Salim puts an arm around Jamal's shoulder. Jamal wipes the tears from his eyes, shakes his head furiously. Salim gets up. Holds out his hand. SALIM (CONT'D) Come. JAMAL Where you going? SALIM First class, bhai. Where else? 45.

trucks

How many times the word 'trucks' appears in the text?

to a colleague. Puts out his cigarette with purpose. JAMAL Let's go, bhai. Salim and Jamal run. The girl follows. 22. 33 EXT. MUMBAI. EVENING. 33 Salim and Jamal stand on a hill overlooking the city. Black smoke billows from a large area that is clearly the Juhu slum. Standing a little way off is the girl. JAMAL We should go back. Silence. JAMAL (CONT'D) See if Ama- Salim shakes his head fiercely, silencing Jamal for a moment. But only a moment. JAMAL (CONT'D) What about Jeevan Chacha? Salim shakes his head. JAMAL (CONT'D) Maybe he- Salim shakes his head again. SALIM - I saw him. He was with them. JAMAL But he wouldn't hurt- SALIM - he was with them! JAMAL But- SALIM - shut up, Jamal, can't you? Just shut up! Salim turns away and sees the girl. Picks up a rock and hurls it at her. She dodges, takes a couple of steps back but makes no real attempt to get away. He finds another rock and hurls this in her direction too. SALIM (CONT'D) Ja! Then a flash of lightning and thunder rumbles across the city. Rain begins to come down. JAMAL What shall we do? (CONTINUED) 23. 33 CONTINUED: 33 No answer. Jamal sits down. Salim sits down. At a distance, the girl sits down. Rain pours down their faces. 34 INT. BUILDER'S YARD. NIGHT. 34 Rain as you've never seen. A pile of huge water pipes in a sprawling builder's yard. Jamal is in one pipe, Salim above him in another. They are both soaked, shivering, but have found some plastic sheet to wrap themselves in. Outside, thirty feet away, stands the girl. Staring. Salim hisses angrily at the girl. SALIM Go away. Ja, ja! The girl might not even have heard. SALIM (CONT'D) She'll have the Security Guard onto us, standing there. JAMAL Not if we let her in. SALIM No. JAMAL She could be the third musketeer. SALIM I am the head of this family, now. And I say no. Piss off, you. Salim huddles down in the pipe. After a while, Jamal follows suit. SALIM (CONT'D) We don't even know what the third musketeer's called. 35 EXT. JUHU SLUM. DAY 35 A flash of Jamal's mother being clubbed to the ground. Her scream. 36 INT. BUILDER'S YARD. LATER. 36 Jamal wakes with a jolt and a scream half-swallowed in his mouth. He shuts his eyes tight, trying to force the image out. His breathing slows and he sees the girl staring at him. Salim, too, is staring into nothing. The rain is still falling. (CONTINUED) 24. 36 CONTINUED: 36 The girl goes back to drawing shapes in the mud with her finger. Jamal climbs out of the pipe. Looks at Salim for permission or refusal, but he just continues to stare. So, Jamal walks across to her. She looks up, wary. JAMAL Where's your Mother? Silence. JAMAL (CONT'D) Father? The girl shakes her head slightly. Jamal takes the plastic sheet from around his shoulders. Gives it to her. JAMAL (CONT'D) I'm Jamal. He's Salim. LATIKA Latika. Jamal goes back to his water pipe, climbs in. Watches her huddled under the sheet. Sighs, motions for her to join him. She darts across, jumps into the water pipe and huddles up next to Jamal. 37 INT. INSPECTOR'S OFFICE. DAY. 37 Jamal looks at the Inspector. JAMAL I wake up every morning wishing I didn't know the answer to that question? If it wasn't for Ram and Allah, I would still have a Mother. 38 INT. STUDIO. NIGHT 38 JAMAL D) A bow and arrow. PREM Final answer? JAMAL Final answer. Prem stares at him for dramatic effect. Presses his computer. PREM Computer-ji, D lock kiya-jaye. (CONTINUED) 25. 38 CONTINUED: 38 The lights dim, the music swells. PREM (CONT'D) Jamal Malik, you answered D? Ram is depicted with a bow and arrow in his hand. And guess what? You've just won sixteen thousand rupees! Well done, my friend. Time for a commercial break- don't go away, now. Music, applause. Prem switches off his professional smile. Gets up. PREM (CONT'D) Got lucky, huh? I'd take the money. You'll never get the next one. JAMAL You're from the Juhu slum, aren't you? PREM Hmm? Sure. Know where I live now, kid? Pali Hill. Twelve bedrooms, a/c in every room, two kitchens, a gym and a screening room. Steel balls is what it takes, my friend, steel balls. The Floor Manager comes over and gives his head-phones set to Prem. Prem listens. DIRECTOR V/O Prem? Tone it down, for goodness sake. You're making him a laughing stock. Prem glances up at the gallery with contempt. PREM We're having fun here. They love it...Where the hell do you get them from? He makes no attempt to hide the conversation from Jamal. DIRECTOR V/O It's supposed to be a quiz show, not a blood sport. FLOOR MANAGER Two minutes. (CONTINUED) 26. 38 CONTINUED: (2) 38 PREM Stop wetting your pants. I'll be a good little boy with the next one. Promise. He chucks the head-phones back at the Floor Manager. Glances in the wings. Sees Nita, the make-up woman. Gets up and goes over. 39 INT. STUDIO. BACKSTAGE. NIGHT. 39 In the half-light, backstage, Nita dabs his face with powder. PREM Meet me after the show. Please. NITA No. PREM Nita, I can explain. NITA No need. I read it in bloody Stardust. Didn't even have the balls to tell me. "Prem's happiness with another baby on the way". After everything you said... PREM Baby, it all happened before I met you. I swear to you. NITA She's got the gestation period of an elephant, then. Prem is about to object. But instead, he laughs. PREM You see? Amidst all this misery, only you can make me laugh. Scornful but hints of melting. NITA All this misery... PREM Her and I- nothing. You have to believe me, baby... Nita turns away. The Floor Manager comes over. FLOOR MANAGER One minute. (CONTINUED) 27. 39 CONTINUED: 39 Prem slings himself in a chair. PREM No. I'm not going on. NITA Prem... PREM I can't. Without you, it's all pointless. Clicks his fingers at the Floor Manager. PREM (CONT'D) You. Tell the Director. Nita shakes her head at the Floor Manager who by now is looking very worried. FLOOR MANAGER Thirty seconds. Prem shrugs and folds his arms. Sees her weaken. NITA Prem... PREM Calypso Bar, private room, just you and me? FLOOR MANAGER Fifteen. NITA (furious) Alright. He grins, jumps up, blows her a kiss, and stalks back on stage. 40 INT. STUDIO. NIGHT. 40 He sits back down, says almost to himself. PREM Steel balls. Turns to Jamal. PREM (CONT'D) Okay, Juhu boy, you've had a good run. Take your Mother to Khandala and eat some chiki. JAMAL My Mother's dead. (CONTINUED) 28. 40 CONTINUED: 40 PREM Well, your girlfriend then. Even better. JAMAL I don't have a girl-friend. PREM Live wire like you? You surprise me. FLOOR MANAGER Five, four... The warm-up man starts the applause. TALKBACK V/O ....three, two, one... Cheering and music. Prem switches on his charm. PREM Welcome back to Who Wants to be a Millionaire! Our contestant, Jamal Malik, Call Centre Assistant- from Mumbai, is on sixteen thousand rupees and has already used one lifeline: Ask the Audience. So, my friend: are you ready for the next question? JAMAL Yes. PREM Then, let's play. Portentous music. The lights dim. PREM (CONT'D) For sixty-four thousand rupees. The British architect Frederick Stevens designed which famous building in India? Is it: A) The Taj Mahal. B) Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus. C) India Gate. D) Howrah Bridge. What do you think, Jamal? Are you one of those tea-boys with a penchant for architecture? 41 INT. CHHATRAPATI SHIVAJI TERMINUS. DAY. 41 Known to everyone as VT station, this monument to Victorian railway architecture is a dangerous place to be at rush hour. (CONTINUED) 29. 41 CONTINUED: 41 Even before the train has stopped, men are jumping from the open doors, or vaulting out of the windows or from the roof of the train to join the tens of thousands of Mumbaites streaming to and from work. A seventeen-year old Jamal squeezes himself out of a train and shoves through the crowds. He checks the time. The digital numerals flick to five O'clock. Looks around the tide of humanity. 42 INT. STUDIO. NIGHT. 42 PREM So, what's it to be? Walk away and this cheque for sixteen thousand rupees is yours. Look, it's even got your name on it. He produces a cheque and waves it at Jamal. JAMAL I don't have a bank account. Laughter from the audience. Prem is momentarily wrong- footed. JAMAL (CONT'D) But I'll take cash. More laughter, this time with Jamal, rather than at him. Prem gets up and starts rummaging theatrically through his jacket pockets and trousers. PREM Nope. Looks like the Producer's stolen my wallet again- JAMAL - I'll play. Nobody was expecting this. Least of all Prem who has to rearrange his features into one of surprised delight. He sits down. PREM You'll play? JAMAL Why not? PREM Well, well, well. We've got a wild one, here. Prem tears up the cheque with theatrical slowness. (CONTINUED) 30. 42 CONTINUED: 42 PREM (CONT'D) For sixty-four thousand rupees, Ladies and Gentlemen, the question once again.... 43 INT. CHHATRAPATI SHIVAJI TERMINUS. DAY. 43 The digital clocks show five fifteen. Shoving the descending river of people out of his way, the eighteen year-old Jamal is forging a path up steps that cross the platforms. He pushes to the middle of the footbridge and leans out on the side railings. He scans the sea of people, desperately. Then he sees her: the eighteen year-old Latika, heart-stoppingly beautiful, over the other side of the station. A world away. She is scanning the crowd, as wired as he is. JAMAL Latika! Latika! But though he is screaming her name, his voice is swallowed by the noise around him. Then he sees two thuggish-looking men also fighting a way towards her. JAMAL (CONT'D) Latika! Frightened now, he fights his way down the steps, one figure against an army of white-robed people. JAMAL (CONT'D) Latika! JAMAL V/O Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus. PREM V/O Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus. Sure? JAMAL V/O I think so. PREM V/O You think so. A brave man, Ladies and Gentlemen, a brave man. 44 INT. CHHATRAPATI SHIVAJI TERMINUS. DAY. 44 The commuters have mostly gone. Jamal is pacing the platform desperately. He stops, stares blankly at the statue in front of him- a proud, rather pompous figure in a Victorian frock coat. The plaque reads: Frederick Stevens. 31. 45 INT. INSPECTOR'S OFFICE. NIGHT. 45 The Inspector, Srinivas and Jamal are staring at the video recorder. JAMAL Yes. Final answer. Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus. PREM Is the right answer! Sixty-four thousand rupees to you, Sir! Applause and music. The Inspector presses pause. Stares at Jamal. INSPECTOR And did she come back? Jamal smiles sadly. JAMAL I wouldn't be here if she had. INSPECTOR Pretty was she? Jamal stares down at his feet. INSPECTOR (CONT'D) Guess not. Right in the eyes. JAMAL The most beautiful woman in the world. Constable Srinivas snorts. Suddenly, Jamal is out of his chair and at Srinivas' throat. The combined force of the Inspector and Srinivas force him roughly back down. He is again handcuffed to the chair. INSPECTOR OF POLICE Well, well. The slum dog barks. Money or women. The reason for most mistakes in life. Looks like you got mixed up with both. Srinivas, you need the exercise: a trip to VT Station to check on the statue. And lock your bloody bike up. Constable Srinivas swears under his breath but bumbles out. (CONTINUED) 32. 45 CONTINUED: 45 INSPECTOR That's the chutiy out the way. Now, man to man. How did you know all the answers? JAMAL If I knew, I'd tell you. 46 OMITTED 46 47 OMITTED 47 48 INT. STUDIO. NIGHT. 48 PREM Now we're into the serious money. For two hundred and fifty thousand rupees, ladies and gentlemen, a quarter of a million rupees...the song Chalo Ri Murali was written by which famous Indian poet. Was it A) Surdas. B) Tulsidas. C) Mira Bai. D) Kabir. Remember you still have two lifelines- fifty- fifty and Phone A Friend. Tempted to use one? JAMAL No. PREM No? JAMAL I know this one. PREM Oh. I see. An expert on the poets, huh? The lights dim, the music swells and Prem presses his computer. 49 EXT. MUMBAI STREET. NIGHT. 49 Jamal is studying a piece of paper and reading out numbers from it. There is something not quite right about Jamal- perhaps the fact that there are two feet by his ears. Salim is standing on his shoulders and spraying the numbers on a wall with an aerosol and a certain lack of confidence. (CONTINUED) 33. 49 CONTINUED: 49 JAMAL Four, nine, zero, nine- the one with the stick going down, Salim- six- stick going up- Latika's head appears from around the corner. LATIKA (whispered) Oi! But they don't hear. Then she is running for her life past the pair of them. JAMAL Six, one, shit, let's go- Salim collapses off Jamal's shoulders and all three run off down an alley past a dozen of the gang's sprayed-on adverts all reading: "Beanbags- 989 4909661". A fat Security Guard with a long stick huffs round the corner. Chases them up an alley. Nowhere to go except through an imposing gate that clearly leads to a private house. SECURITY GUARD Got you now, little shits. 50 EXT. GARDEN. NIGHT. 50 They charge across the lawn, down one side of the house where all the washing is hanging. The Guard gets caught up in drying sheets, towels. He fights his way through to see Salim, Latika and Jamal leaping over the wall to safety. But Jamal turns, jumps back and grabs a girl's dress from the line. SECURITY GUARD Aha! Little thief! The Security Guard lands a couple of blows on Jamal's back as he dodges around him and back across the lawn, dress in hand. The Security Guard gives up. SECURITY GUARD (CONT'D) Pervert! 51 INT. ALLEY. NIGHT. 51 Jamal is examing the bruises on his legs. SALIM Useless bloody look-out. What good is she, huh? (CONTINUED) 34. 51 CONTINUED: 51 LATIKA (infuriated) I tried to warn you. JAMAL It's okay, Salim. Latika slips on the dress. Spins. Both of them look up. Stare. She pulls her hair back, smiles, is transformed into a beautiful girl. 52 EXT. GORAI BEACH DUMPING GROUND. DAY. 52 Blazing sun. Diggers and trucks are shifting mounds of rubble on a rubbish dump that seems to stretch for ever. Oblivious to the dust kicked up by the trucks, Latika is picking up old plastic bags, examining each one and putting the less worn in a big sack. The dress is recognisable but dusty and torn. She stoops to dig another bag out of the dirt, but stops and stares. Shimmering in the heat, a rickety pick-up truck comes through the rubbish dump gates. Toots at the Guard who waves, pulls up in the dump. "Hope Orphanage is written on the side of the van. A man gets out. Looks around. 53 INT. `TENT'. DAY. 53 Under sheets of plastic propped up on sticks, Jamal and Salim are sleeping out the hottest part of the day. Jamal wakes to see a figure standing over him- a silhouette with a halo of sun behind him. Out of his bag, the man produces a bottle of Thumbs Up. He uncaps it with an alluring hiss. It is almost an advert for thirst-quenching affluence. Almost instinctively, Salim and Jamal stir. MAN Hello. He hands the bottle to Salim, gets another from his bag and waves it questioningly at Jamal. MAN (CONT'D) Hot, huh? My name is Maman. 54 EXT. ORPHANAGE. EVENING. 54 The hills on the edge of Bombay. Greenery and space, for the first time in the film. The pick-up truck pulls up outside a building with Jamal, Salim and Latika sitting on a bench in the back. Maman gets out. Drops the gate on the back of the pick-up. MAMAN Anyone hungry? Come on in. 35. 55 INT. ORPHANAGE COURTYARD. EVENING. 55 Twenty children are eating at long benches in a ramshackle courtyard. Maman, ushers Jamal, Salim and Latika in and sits them down at one of the benches. He waves a hand and a giant man, Punnoose, comes over with a big bowl of food. The three tear into it. Cleaning every last morsel of rice from his plate, Jamal looks up and notices a table peopled entirely with blind or crippled children. Some of the legless are eating on the floor next to the table. Jamal leans over to Salim. JAMAL He must be a very good man to look after these people. SALIM (glancing at them) A saint. Arvind, a boy smaller than either Jamal or Salim overhears. ARVIND We're not allowed to talk to them. LATIKA Why not? Arvind shrugs. Latika licks her plate, glances at Maman who is looking right at them. LATIKA (CONT'D) Well, if there are seconds, Maman is definitely a Saint. As if telepathic, Maman signals to Punnoose and he brings a large bowl of rice and dhal over to them. Latika looks at Jamal and Salim. They burst out laughing. LATIKA (CONT'D) I tell you, Lord Siva is with us. 56 INT. ORPHANAGE. EVENING. 56 Salim, Latika, Jamal and a group of children are standing in a line singing a doha- ancient lyrics set to music. Maman is leading the singing, walking up and down the line listening to each one individually. He stops at one small boy, Arvind, and listens. Nods his head, pleased, and continues down the line until he stops in front of Jamal. Holds up his hand. MAMAN Stop! You. Again. (CONTINUED) 36. 56 CONTINUED: 56 Jamal starts singing again. He has the sweetest of voices. Untrained but pure. Maman smiles, ruffles Jamal's hair, impressed. MAMAN (CONT'D) Everyone. They all join in. Maman continues down the line. He stops at Salim whose octave-slipping singing is lusty and appallingly out of tune. Maman winces and moves on. Standing next to Salim, Latika giggles. Immediately, Salim is on her. Before a fight breaks out, Punnoose pulls Salim off Latika and hurls him across the room. Salim gets up and charges at Punnoose. For a second, Punnoose is back-footed, but then pins Salim's arms to his side. Maman laughs. Approaches Salim. MAMAN (CONT'D) You sing like one, and you fight like one. I think you've found your dog, Punnoose. 57 EXT. CENTRAL MUMBAI TRAFFIC. DAY. 57 A group of children are sitting in the jumble of concrete under a motorway flyover. Cars surround them, bumper to bumper. Latika and Jamal are playing an improvised hopscotch on concrete slabs. They are giggling, bumping into each other, tickling, laughing. Salim and Punnoose are sitting together, smoking. Salim is staring hard at Jamal and Latika until Punnoose grunts, a sign for Salim to clap his hands. SALIM Okay, let's go, let's go! It's not a bloody holiday! The children get to their feet. Latika sighs, puts a patch over her eye and grabs a pair of crutches. Suddenly, the lame beggar. Salim goes over to one of the girls, who is carrying a sleeping baby. Puts out his hand. SALIM (CONT'D) Give me that. The girl shakes her head. Salim grabs her by the hair in one hand and takes the baby with the other. He shoves her to the ground. The other children stare. JAMAL Hey, Salim! He challenges Jamal. SALIM What, chot bhai? You got a problem? (CONTINUED) 37. 57 CONTINUED: 57 He laughs and walks over to Latika. SALIM (CONT'D) Here. For you. LATIKA I don't want it. SALIM You'll earn double. I'm doing you a favour, Latika. JAMAL She doesn't want it. SALIM Chup, Jamal. Latika turns away and begins to walk towards the cars. SALIM (CONT'D) I'll drop it. He holds the baby up. Latika grabs the baby with a cry just as Salim releases it from his hands. Salim pinches the baby. SALIM (CONT'D) Triple if it's crying. Latika snatches it away. Salim laughs, goes back to sitting with Punnoose. The children scatter to the cars trapped at the lights, tapping plaintively on the windows and making the universal begging gesture. 58 INT. ORPHANAGE. KITCHEN. NIGHT. 58 Surrounded by beer bottles, Punnoose is slumped asleep by the kitchen door. Latika edges past, avoids the cook sleeping under the table and goes to a shelf laden with vegetables. She pulls down a bunch of chillies still on the vine, strips a few off and tip-toes out with them. 59 INT. ORPHANAGE. DORMITORY. NIGHT. 59 Sleeping children, three or four to a mattress on the floor. Latika tip-toes around the mattresses. She pauses over one in particular where we see Salim, asleep. She carefully pulls up the sheet, delves underneath. Pleasant dreams cross Salim's sleeping face for a second. Then suddenly, he is bolt upright and screaming. He charges around the room clutching his genitals in agony. SALIM Madher chod...! (CONTINUED) 38. 59 CONTINUED: 59 He sprints out of the room, wailing. 60 INT. ORPHANAGE. SHOWERS. NIGHT. 60 The lights are on and two dozen children are screaming with laughter as Salim stands under the make-shift shower directing the water down his pants to his burning genitals, his face a picture of agony. Latika wipes crushed chillies from her hands. SALIM You're dead, sala. She smiles and walks past Jamal with a shrug. Then Punnoose comes stalking in and the children scatter away. PUNNOOSE Get back to bed, dogs! What the hell... JAMAL V/O They taught me every song in the history of Indian music. INSPECTOR V/O And why would they do that, I wonder? 61 INT. SHACK. NIGHT. 61 In a shack, Arvind is singing one of Surdas' bhajans in front of Maman and an old man who by his ragged appearance must be a villager. Punnoose and Salim sit behind Arvind. MAMAN Very good, very good. I am pleased, Arvind. He is ready. ARVIND Ready? Maman nods to Punnoose. Before Arvind can turn round, Punnoose has covered his mouth with a cloth and after the briefest of struggles, Arvind's body goes limp. The villager puts an old tin box on the table. Taking the lid from the tin, he brings out a cloth and unwraps it. Inside is a spoon. He checks the edge with his thumb. Sharp. Douses it with a clear liquid from a bottle and passes it over a candle flame. The spoon whooshes with a high flame for a moment. The villager wipes it with the cloth nods to Punnoose. PUNNOOSE Salim! (CONTINUED) 39. 61 CONTINUED: 61 Utterly bemused, Salim nevertheless helps Punnoose lay Arvind on the table. The villager takes hold of Arvind's eyelid and pulls it open. He brings the spoon close. Suddenly, Salim is being sick in the corner of the shack. By the time he has turned back, the villager is wiping the spoon on a blood-soaked rag. MAMAN Okay. Take him out the back. Punnoose picks up Arvind and carries him out. MAMAN (CONT'D) Now the other one. Salim, go get Jamal. A frozen moment. SALIM What? MAMAN Gunfighter Number One, isn't that right, Salim? The money, the women, the cars...you want them bad, huh? And why not? Maman gets out of his chair. Approaches Salim. MAMAN (CONT'D) The time has come to choose, yaar. The life of a slum dog or the life of a man. A real man. A gunfighter, Salim. Maman holds Salim's head in his hands. MAMAN (CONT'D) Your destiny is in your hands, bhai. You can be me. Or nobody. Understand? SALIM Yes, Maman. Maman nods. MAMAN So, brother, go get Jamal. Salim is frozen for another few seconds, then turns and walks out of the door. Punnoose appears at the door. Maman nods to him and he slips off after Salim. 62 INT. DORMITORY, ORPHANAGE. NIGHT. 62 All the children are asleep apart from Jamal who is crouched underneath a couple of wash-basins. (CONTINUED) 40. 62 CONTINUED: 62 He is talking through a plate-sized hole in the crumbling masonry. Latika's eyes can be seen. JAMAL ...weddings, government things, big parties. If Maman says my voice is ready. Big money. LATIKA Enough for a room? JAMAL Easily. Maybe an apartment. LATIKA Really? JAMAL That's what Arvind said. On Harbour Road. You, me and Salim. The three musketeers. LATIKA Harbour Road! We can have ice cream from Babanji's. JAMAL Every day if we want. Salim appears at the door. Nods his head at Jamal. JAMAL (CONT'D) It's my turn. LATIKA Good luck, Jamal. Latika's hand comes through the gap. Jamal takes it for a moment. Salim hisses at Jamal. He lets go of the hand and heads out. 63 EXT. PATH. NIGHT. 63 Salim and Jamal walk along the path, Jamal humming happily. Salim checks behind him, sees Punnoose following. JAMAL So, this is it, hey, bhai? The good life, here we come.... SALIM (conversationally) Athos. Jamal is suddenly alert. Slows (CONTINUED) 41. 63 CONTINUED: 63 JAMAL Porthos? Salim nods. Big smile. Puts a hand on Jamal's shoulder. SALIM When I say. 64 INT. SHACK. NIGHT. 64 Salim guides Jamal into the shack where Maman and the Villager are waiting. Maman smiles. Punnoose slips in behind Salim. MAMAN Jamal, hello. You have done well. It's time for you to- turn professional. JAMAL Really? MAMAN Sing me a song, yaar. How about Chalo Ri Murali, huh? My favourite. Jamal opens his mouth, then closes it again. Holds out his hand. JAMAL Fifty rupees. MAMAN What? JAMAL (shrugs) I've turned professional. What can I do? Maman laughs. MAMAN Sala...! He throws some notes at him. 65 EXT. SHACK. NIGHT. 65 Outside, a giggle. Latika is peering through a gap in the wall. 42. 66 INT. SHACK. NIGHT. 66 Jamal begins to sing. Maman waits a while, then nods to Punnoose. Behind Jamal, Punnoose hands Salim the bottle of chloroform and the rag. Salim approaches the back of Jamal. Salim waits until he has finished the song. Raises his hand with the rag in it. Maman smiles, nods. Salim flings the contents of the bottle in Punnoose's face. Punnoose screams and stumbles back clutching his eyes, knocking over the table. SALIM Go! Salim and Jamal scramble for the door. The knocked-over candle catches the spilled chloroform and a curtain which whooshes up in flame. LATIKA Jamal! JAMAL Run! 66A EXT. SHACK. NIGHT. 66A They charge past the prone Arvind- a flash of bloodied bandages covering his eyes. 67 EXT. HILLSIDE. NIGHT. 67 Heavy, desperate breathing. Feet stumble on roots. Fall into holes. The three children are running. Branches smack into their faces. But they are so scared, nothing will stop them. Behind them, torches scour the undergrowth. Men shouting. They break out of the woods and are confronted with a train goods yard. 68 EXT. GOODS YARD. NIGHT. 68 They run over the tracks, between the trains, but the shouts are getting louder, the torches closer. A diesel engine is moving out of the station. Jamal, Latika and Salim sprint for the Guard's Van at the very back of the moving train. Punnoose is closest to them. Salim is fastest and first to jump the train. He holds out his hand. Jamal grabs it and is hauled in. Jamal holds his hand out to Latika. JAMAL Come on! Faster! She reaches out to him. Their hands almost touch. (CONTINUED) 43. 68 CONTINUED: 68 JAMAL (CONT'D) Take it! Take it! I can't reach... Salim barges Jamal out of the way. Jamal stumbles back as Salim reaches his hand out to Latika, so he doesn't see Latika's hand grasp Salim's, nor see their eyes lock onto each other, nor see Salim very deliberately let go of her hand. Latika stumbles. LATIKA Jamal! Jamal scrambles to the rail. The train gains more speed. Jamal climbs on to the top rung, makes to jump, but Salim flings him backward. Jamal tries to scramble to his feet again, but Salim restrains him. JAMAL Got to go back. We've got to go back. SALIM He'll kill us if we go back. Jamal! He was going to take your eyes out- with a bloody spoon! The train is speeding along. Jamal breaks free and stares back at Latika. SALIM (CONT'D) She'll be alright. She always is. Latika stumbles again and stops running. They watch as Punnoose catches up with her and stops running. He smashes Latika to the ground. 69 INT. STUDIO. NIGHT. 69 PREM The question was, for two hundred and fifty thousand rupees: who wrote the famous song Chalo Ri Murali. I should warn you, Jamal: from this question on, if you get the answer wrong you lose everything. So. Are you sure? The life-lines are there.... JAMAL Surdas. PREM Surdas. Apka final jawab? (CONTINUED) 44. 69 CONTINUED: 69 JAMAL Yes. PREM Computer-ji, A lock kiya-jaye. The lights dim, the music swells. Prem presses a button on his computer: looks him straight in the eyes for an age. PREM (CONT'D) (simply) Guess what? You're right. Applause, music, lights. 70 INT. INSPECTOR'S OFFICE. DAY. 70 The Inspector is eying Jamal, weighing it all up. JAMAL (shrugging) Blind singers earn double. You know that. INSPECTOR And what happened to the girl? They blinded her too? JAMAL (shakes his head) They had other plans. Though it took me a long, long time to find out. 71 EXT. TRAIN. MORNING. 71 Salim and Jamal are sitting on top of the train. Jamal is staring blankly down the track. SALIM Ar , Jamal... Salim puts an arm around Jamal's shoulder. Jamal wipes the tears from his eyes, shakes his head furiously. Salim gets up. Holds out his hand. SALIM (CONT'D) Come. JAMAL Where you going? SALIM First class, bhai. Where else? 45.

gentlemen

How many times the word 'gentlemen' appears in the text?

to a colleague. Puts out his cigarette with purpose. JAMAL Let's go, bhai. Salim and Jamal run. The girl follows. 22. 33 EXT. MUMBAI. EVENING. 33 Salim and Jamal stand on a hill overlooking the city. Black smoke billows from a large area that is clearly the Juhu slum. Standing a little way off is the girl. JAMAL We should go back. Silence. JAMAL (CONT'D) See if Ama- Salim shakes his head fiercely, silencing Jamal for a moment. But only a moment. JAMAL (CONT'D) What about Jeevan Chacha? Salim shakes his head. JAMAL (CONT'D) Maybe he- Salim shakes his head again. SALIM - I saw him. He was with them. JAMAL But he wouldn't hurt- SALIM - he was with them! JAMAL But- SALIM - shut up, Jamal, can't you? Just shut up! Salim turns away and sees the girl. Picks up a rock and hurls it at her. She dodges, takes a couple of steps back but makes no real attempt to get away. He finds another rock and hurls this in her direction too. SALIM (CONT'D) Ja! Then a flash of lightning and thunder rumbles across the city. Rain begins to come down. JAMAL What shall we do? (CONTINUED) 23. 33 CONTINUED: 33 No answer. Jamal sits down. Salim sits down. At a distance, the girl sits down. Rain pours down their faces. 34 INT. BUILDER'S YARD. NIGHT. 34 Rain as you've never seen. A pile of huge water pipes in a sprawling builder's yard. Jamal is in one pipe, Salim above him in another. They are both soaked, shivering, but have found some plastic sheet to wrap themselves in. Outside, thirty feet away, stands the girl. Staring. Salim hisses angrily at the girl. SALIM Go away. Ja, ja! The girl might not even have heard. SALIM (CONT'D) She'll have the Security Guard onto us, standing there. JAMAL Not if we let her in. SALIM No. JAMAL She could be the third musketeer. SALIM I am the head of this family, now. And I say no. Piss off, you. Salim huddles down in the pipe. After a while, Jamal follows suit. SALIM (CONT'D) We don't even know what the third musketeer's called. 35 EXT. JUHU SLUM. DAY 35 A flash of Jamal's mother being clubbed to the ground. Her scream. 36 INT. BUILDER'S YARD. LATER. 36 Jamal wakes with a jolt and a scream half-swallowed in his mouth. He shuts his eyes tight, trying to force the image out. His breathing slows and he sees the girl staring at him. Salim, too, is staring into nothing. The rain is still falling. (CONTINUED) 24. 36 CONTINUED: 36 The girl goes back to drawing shapes in the mud with her finger. Jamal climbs out of the pipe. Looks at Salim for permission or refusal, but he just continues to stare. So, Jamal walks across to her. She looks up, wary. JAMAL Where's your Mother? Silence. JAMAL (CONT'D) Father? The girl shakes her head slightly. Jamal takes the plastic sheet from around his shoulders. Gives it to her. JAMAL (CONT'D) I'm Jamal. He's Salim. LATIKA Latika. Jamal goes back to his water pipe, climbs in. Watches her huddled under the sheet. Sighs, motions for her to join him. She darts across, jumps into the water pipe and huddles up next to Jamal. 37 INT. INSPECTOR'S OFFICE. DAY. 37 Jamal looks at the Inspector. JAMAL I wake up every morning wishing I didn't know the answer to that question? If it wasn't for Ram and Allah, I would still have a Mother. 38 INT. STUDIO. NIGHT 38 JAMAL D) A bow and arrow. PREM Final answer? JAMAL Final answer. Prem stares at him for dramatic effect. Presses his computer. PREM Computer-ji, D lock kiya-jaye. (CONTINUED) 25. 38 CONTINUED: 38 The lights dim, the music swells. PREM (CONT'D) Jamal Malik, you answered D? Ram is depicted with a bow and arrow in his hand. And guess what? You've just won sixteen thousand rupees! Well done, my friend. Time for a commercial break- don't go away, now. Music, applause. Prem switches off his professional smile. Gets up. PREM (CONT'D) Got lucky, huh? I'd take the money. You'll never get the next one. JAMAL You're from the Juhu slum, aren't you? PREM Hmm? Sure. Know where I live now, kid? Pali Hill. Twelve bedrooms, a/c in every room, two kitchens, a gym and a screening room. Steel balls is what it takes, my friend, steel balls. The Floor Manager comes over and gives his head-phones set to Prem. Prem listens. DIRECTOR V/O Prem? Tone it down, for goodness sake. You're making him a laughing stock. Prem glances up at the gallery with contempt. PREM We're having fun here. They love it...Where the hell do you get them from? He makes no attempt to hide the conversation from Jamal. DIRECTOR V/O It's supposed to be a quiz show, not a blood sport. FLOOR MANAGER Two minutes. (CONTINUED) 26. 38 CONTINUED: (2) 38 PREM Stop wetting your pants. I'll be a good little boy with the next one. Promise. He chucks the head-phones back at the Floor Manager. Glances in the wings. Sees Nita, the make-up woman. Gets up and goes over. 39 INT. STUDIO. BACKSTAGE. NIGHT. 39 In the half-light, backstage, Nita dabs his face with powder. PREM Meet me after the show. Please. NITA No. PREM Nita, I can explain. NITA No need. I read it in bloody Stardust. Didn't even have the balls to tell me. "Prem's happiness with another baby on the way". After everything you said... PREM Baby, it all happened before I met you. I swear to you. NITA She's got the gestation period of an elephant, then. Prem is about to object. But instead, he laughs. PREM You see? Amidst all this misery, only you can make me laugh. Scornful but hints of melting. NITA All this misery... PREM Her and I- nothing. You have to believe me, baby... Nita turns away. The Floor Manager comes over. FLOOR MANAGER One minute. (CONTINUED) 27. 39 CONTINUED: 39 Prem slings himself in a chair. PREM No. I'm not going on. NITA Prem... PREM I can't. Without you, it's all pointless. Clicks his fingers at the Floor Manager. PREM (CONT'D) You. Tell the Director. Nita shakes her head at the Floor Manager who by now is looking very worried. FLOOR MANAGER Thirty seconds. Prem shrugs and folds his arms. Sees her weaken. NITA Prem... PREM Calypso Bar, private room, just you and me? FLOOR MANAGER Fifteen. NITA (furious) Alright. He grins, jumps up, blows her a kiss, and stalks back on stage. 40 INT. STUDIO. NIGHT. 40 He sits back down, says almost to himself. PREM Steel balls. Turns to Jamal. PREM (CONT'D) Okay, Juhu boy, you've had a good run. Take your Mother to Khandala and eat some chiki. JAMAL My Mother's dead. (CONTINUED) 28. 40 CONTINUED: 40 PREM Well, your girlfriend then. Even better. JAMAL I don't have a girl-friend. PREM Live wire like you? You surprise me. FLOOR MANAGER Five, four... The warm-up man starts the applause. TALKBACK V/O ....three, two, one... Cheering and music. Prem switches on his charm. PREM Welcome back to Who Wants to be a Millionaire! Our contestant, Jamal Malik, Call Centre Assistant- from Mumbai, is on sixteen thousand rupees and has already used one lifeline: Ask the Audience. So, my friend: are you ready for the next question? JAMAL Yes. PREM Then, let's play. Portentous music. The lights dim. PREM (CONT'D) For sixty-four thousand rupees. The British architect Frederick Stevens designed which famous building in India? Is it: A) The Taj Mahal. B) Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus. C) India Gate. D) Howrah Bridge. What do you think, Jamal? Are you one of those tea-boys with a penchant for architecture? 41 INT. CHHATRAPATI SHIVAJI TERMINUS. DAY. 41 Known to everyone as VT station, this monument to Victorian railway architecture is a dangerous place to be at rush hour. (CONTINUED) 29. 41 CONTINUED: 41 Even before the train has stopped, men are jumping from the open doors, or vaulting out of the windows or from the roof of the train to join the tens of thousands of Mumbaites streaming to and from work. A seventeen-year old Jamal squeezes himself out of a train and shoves through the crowds. He checks the time. The digital numerals flick to five O'clock. Looks around the tide of humanity. 42 INT. STUDIO. NIGHT. 42 PREM So, what's it to be? Walk away and this cheque for sixteen thousand rupees is yours. Look, it's even got your name on it. He produces a cheque and waves it at Jamal. JAMAL I don't have a bank account. Laughter from the audience. Prem is momentarily wrong- footed. JAMAL (CONT'D) But I'll take cash. More laughter, this time with Jamal, rather than at him. Prem gets up and starts rummaging theatrically through his jacket pockets and trousers. PREM Nope. Looks like the Producer's stolen my wallet again- JAMAL - I'll play. Nobody was expecting this. Least of all Prem who has to rearrange his features into one of surprised delight. He sits down. PREM You'll play? JAMAL Why not? PREM Well, well, well. We've got a wild one, here. Prem tears up the cheque with theatrical slowness. (CONTINUED) 30. 42 CONTINUED: 42 PREM (CONT'D) For sixty-four thousand rupees, Ladies and Gentlemen, the question once again.... 43 INT. CHHATRAPATI SHIVAJI TERMINUS. DAY. 43 The digital clocks show five fifteen. Shoving the descending river of people out of his way, the eighteen year-old Jamal is forging a path up steps that cross the platforms. He pushes to the middle of the footbridge and leans out on the side railings. He scans the sea of people, desperately. Then he sees her: the eighteen year-old Latika, heart-stoppingly beautiful, over the other side of the station. A world away. She is scanning the crowd, as wired as he is. JAMAL Latika! Latika! But though he is screaming her name, his voice is swallowed by the noise around him. Then he sees two thuggish-looking men also fighting a way towards her. JAMAL (CONT'D) Latika! Frightened now, he fights his way down the steps, one figure against an army of white-robed people. JAMAL (CONT'D) Latika! JAMAL V/O Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus. PREM V/O Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus. Sure? JAMAL V/O I think so. PREM V/O You think so. A brave man, Ladies and Gentlemen, a brave man. 44 INT. CHHATRAPATI SHIVAJI TERMINUS. DAY. 44 The commuters have mostly gone. Jamal is pacing the platform desperately. He stops, stares blankly at the statue in front of him- a proud, rather pompous figure in a Victorian frock coat. The plaque reads: Frederick Stevens. 31. 45 INT. INSPECTOR'S OFFICE. NIGHT. 45 The Inspector, Srinivas and Jamal are staring at the video recorder. JAMAL Yes. Final answer. Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus. PREM Is the right answer! Sixty-four thousand rupees to you, Sir! Applause and music. The Inspector presses pause. Stares at Jamal. INSPECTOR And did she come back? Jamal smiles sadly. JAMAL I wouldn't be here if she had. INSPECTOR Pretty was she? Jamal stares down at his feet. INSPECTOR (CONT'D) Guess not. Right in the eyes. JAMAL The most beautiful woman in the world. Constable Srinivas snorts. Suddenly, Jamal is out of his chair and at Srinivas' throat. The combined force of the Inspector and Srinivas force him roughly back down. He is again handcuffed to the chair. INSPECTOR OF POLICE Well, well. The slum dog barks. Money or women. The reason for most mistakes in life. Looks like you got mixed up with both. Srinivas, you need the exercise: a trip to VT Station to check on the statue. And lock your bloody bike up. Constable Srinivas swears under his breath but bumbles out. (CONTINUED) 32. 45 CONTINUED: 45 INSPECTOR That's the chutiy out the way. Now, man to man. How did you know all the answers? JAMAL If I knew, I'd tell you. 46 OMITTED 46 47 OMITTED 47 48 INT. STUDIO. NIGHT. 48 PREM Now we're into the serious money. For two hundred and fifty thousand rupees, ladies and gentlemen, a quarter of a million rupees...the song Chalo Ri Murali was written by which famous Indian poet. Was it A) Surdas. B) Tulsidas. C) Mira Bai. D) Kabir. Remember you still have two lifelines- fifty- fifty and Phone A Friend. Tempted to use one? JAMAL No. PREM No? JAMAL I know this one. PREM Oh. I see. An expert on the poets, huh? The lights dim, the music swells and Prem presses his computer. 49 EXT. MUMBAI STREET. NIGHT. 49 Jamal is studying a piece of paper and reading out numbers from it. There is something not quite right about Jamal- perhaps the fact that there are two feet by his ears. Salim is standing on his shoulders and spraying the numbers on a wall with an aerosol and a certain lack of confidence. (CONTINUED) 33. 49 CONTINUED: 49 JAMAL Four, nine, zero, nine- the one with the stick going down, Salim- six- stick going up- Latika's head appears from around the corner. LATIKA (whispered) Oi! But they don't hear. Then she is running for her life past the pair of them. JAMAL Six, one, shit, let's go- Salim collapses off Jamal's shoulders and all three run off down an alley past a dozen of the gang's sprayed-on adverts all reading: "Beanbags- 989 4909661". A fat Security Guard with a long stick huffs round the corner. Chases them up an alley. Nowhere to go except through an imposing gate that clearly leads to a private house. SECURITY GUARD Got you now, little shits. 50 EXT. GARDEN. NIGHT. 50 They charge across the lawn, down one side of the house where all the washing is hanging. The Guard gets caught up in drying sheets, towels. He fights his way through to see Salim, Latika and Jamal leaping over the wall to safety. But Jamal turns, jumps back and grabs a girl's dress from the line. SECURITY GUARD Aha! Little thief! The Security Guard lands a couple of blows on Jamal's back as he dodges around him and back across the lawn, dress in hand. The Security Guard gives up. SECURITY GUARD (CONT'D) Pervert! 51 INT. ALLEY. NIGHT. 51 Jamal is examing the bruises on his legs. SALIM Useless bloody look-out. What good is she, huh? (CONTINUED) 34. 51 CONTINUED: 51 LATIKA (infuriated) I tried to warn you. JAMAL It's okay, Salim. Latika slips on the dress. Spins. Both of them look up. Stare. She pulls her hair back, smiles, is transformed into a beautiful girl. 52 EXT. GORAI BEACH DUMPING GROUND. DAY. 52 Blazing sun. Diggers and trucks are shifting mounds of rubble on a rubbish dump that seems to stretch for ever. Oblivious to the dust kicked up by the trucks, Latika is picking up old plastic bags, examining each one and putting the less worn in a big sack. The dress is recognisable but dusty and torn. She stoops to dig another bag out of the dirt, but stops and stares. Shimmering in the heat, a rickety pick-up truck comes through the rubbish dump gates. Toots at the Guard who waves, pulls up in the dump. "Hope Orphanage is written on the side of the van. A man gets out. Looks around. 53 INT. `TENT'. DAY. 53 Under sheets of plastic propped up on sticks, Jamal and Salim are sleeping out the hottest part of the day. Jamal wakes to see a figure standing over him- a silhouette with a halo of sun behind him. Out of his bag, the man produces a bottle of Thumbs Up. He uncaps it with an alluring hiss. It is almost an advert for thirst-quenching affluence. Almost instinctively, Salim and Jamal stir. MAN Hello. He hands the bottle to Salim, gets another from his bag and waves it questioningly at Jamal. MAN (CONT'D) Hot, huh? My name is Maman. 54 EXT. ORPHANAGE. EVENING. 54 The hills on the edge of Bombay. Greenery and space, for the first time in the film. The pick-up truck pulls up outside a building with Jamal, Salim and Latika sitting on a bench in the back. Maman gets out. Drops the gate on the back of the pick-up. MAMAN Anyone hungry? Come on in. 35. 55 INT. ORPHANAGE COURTYARD. EVENING. 55 Twenty children are eating at long benches in a ramshackle courtyard. Maman, ushers Jamal, Salim and Latika in and sits them down at one of the benches. He waves a hand and a giant man, Punnoose, comes over with a big bowl of food. The three tear into it. Cleaning every last morsel of rice from his plate, Jamal looks up and notices a table peopled entirely with blind or crippled children. Some of the legless are eating on the floor next to the table. Jamal leans over to Salim. JAMAL He must be a very good man to look after these people. SALIM (glancing at them) A saint. Arvind, a boy smaller than either Jamal or Salim overhears. ARVIND We're not allowed to talk to them. LATIKA Why not? Arvind shrugs. Latika licks her plate, glances at Maman who is looking right at them. LATIKA (CONT'D) Well, if there are seconds, Maman is definitely a Saint. As if telepathic, Maman signals to Punnoose and he brings a large bowl of rice and dhal over to them. Latika looks at Jamal and Salim. They burst out laughing. LATIKA (CONT'D) I tell you, Lord Siva is with us. 56 INT. ORPHANAGE. EVENING. 56 Salim, Latika, Jamal and a group of children are standing in a line singing a doha- ancient lyrics set to music. Maman is leading the singing, walking up and down the line listening to each one individually. He stops at one small boy, Arvind, and listens. Nods his head, pleased, and continues down the line until he stops in front of Jamal. Holds up his hand. MAMAN Stop! You. Again. (CONTINUED) 36. 56 CONTINUED: 56 Jamal starts singing again. He has the sweetest of voices. Untrained but pure. Maman smiles, ruffles Jamal's hair, impressed. MAMAN (CONT'D) Everyone. They all join in. Maman continues down the line. He stops at Salim whose octave-slipping singing is lusty and appallingly out of tune. Maman winces and moves on. Standing next to Salim, Latika giggles. Immediately, Salim is on her. Before a fight breaks out, Punnoose pulls Salim off Latika and hurls him across the room. Salim gets up and charges at Punnoose. For a second, Punnoose is back-footed, but then pins Salim's arms to his side. Maman laughs. Approaches Salim. MAMAN (CONT'D) You sing like one, and you fight like one. I think you've found your dog, Punnoose. 57 EXT. CENTRAL MUMBAI TRAFFIC. DAY. 57 A group of children are sitting in the jumble of concrete under a motorway flyover. Cars surround them, bumper to bumper. Latika and Jamal are playing an improvised hopscotch on concrete slabs. They are giggling, bumping into each other, tickling, laughing. Salim and Punnoose are sitting together, smoking. Salim is staring hard at Jamal and Latika until Punnoose grunts, a sign for Salim to clap his hands. SALIM Okay, let's go, let's go! It's not a bloody holiday! The children get to their feet. Latika sighs, puts a patch over her eye and grabs a pair of crutches. Suddenly, the lame beggar. Salim goes over to one of the girls, who is carrying a sleeping baby. Puts out his hand. SALIM (CONT'D) Give me that. The girl shakes her head. Salim grabs her by the hair in one hand and takes the baby with the other. He shoves her to the ground. The other children stare. JAMAL Hey, Salim! He challenges Jamal. SALIM What, chot bhai? You got a problem? (CONTINUED) 37. 57 CONTINUED: 57 He laughs and walks over to Latika. SALIM (CONT'D) Here. For you. LATIKA I don't want it. SALIM You'll earn double. I'm doing you a favour, Latika. JAMAL She doesn't want it. SALIM Chup, Jamal. Latika turns away and begins to walk towards the cars. SALIM (CONT'D) I'll drop it. He holds the baby up. Latika grabs the baby with a cry just as Salim releases it from his hands. Salim pinches the baby. SALIM (CONT'D) Triple if it's crying. Latika snatches it away. Salim laughs, goes back to sitting with Punnoose. The children scatter to the cars trapped at the lights, tapping plaintively on the windows and making the universal begging gesture. 58 INT. ORPHANAGE. KITCHEN. NIGHT. 58 Surrounded by beer bottles, Punnoose is slumped asleep by the kitchen door. Latika edges past, avoids the cook sleeping under the table and goes to a shelf laden with vegetables. She pulls down a bunch of chillies still on the vine, strips a few off and tip-toes out with them. 59 INT. ORPHANAGE. DORMITORY. NIGHT. 59 Sleeping children, three or four to a mattress on the floor. Latika tip-toes around the mattresses. She pauses over one in particular where we see Salim, asleep. She carefully pulls up the sheet, delves underneath. Pleasant dreams cross Salim's sleeping face for a second. Then suddenly, he is bolt upright and screaming. He charges around the room clutching his genitals in agony. SALIM Madher chod...! (CONTINUED) 38. 59 CONTINUED: 59 He sprints out of the room, wailing. 60 INT. ORPHANAGE. SHOWERS. NIGHT. 60 The lights are on and two dozen children are screaming with laughter as Salim stands under the make-shift shower directing the water down his pants to his burning genitals, his face a picture of agony. Latika wipes crushed chillies from her hands. SALIM You're dead, sala. She smiles and walks past Jamal with a shrug. Then Punnoose comes stalking in and the children scatter away. PUNNOOSE Get back to bed, dogs! What the hell... JAMAL V/O They taught me every song in the history of Indian music. INSPECTOR V/O And why would they do that, I wonder? 61 INT. SHACK. NIGHT. 61 In a shack, Arvind is singing one of Surdas' bhajans in front of Maman and an old man who by his ragged appearance must be a villager. Punnoose and Salim sit behind Arvind. MAMAN Very good, very good. I am pleased, Arvind. He is ready. ARVIND Ready? Maman nods to Punnoose. Before Arvind can turn round, Punnoose has covered his mouth with a cloth and after the briefest of struggles, Arvind's body goes limp. The villager puts an old tin box on the table. Taking the lid from the tin, he brings out a cloth and unwraps it. Inside is a spoon. He checks the edge with his thumb. Sharp. Douses it with a clear liquid from a bottle and passes it over a candle flame. The spoon whooshes with a high flame for a moment. The villager wipes it with the cloth nods to Punnoose. PUNNOOSE Salim! (CONTINUED) 39. 61 CONTINUED: 61 Utterly bemused, Salim nevertheless helps Punnoose lay Arvind on the table. The villager takes hold of Arvind's eyelid and pulls it open. He brings the spoon close. Suddenly, Salim is being sick in the corner of the shack. By the time he has turned back, the villager is wiping the spoon on a blood-soaked rag. MAMAN Okay. Take him out the back. Punnoose picks up Arvind and carries him out. MAMAN (CONT'D) Now the other one. Salim, go get Jamal. A frozen moment. SALIM What? MAMAN Gunfighter Number One, isn't that right, Salim? The money, the women, the cars...you want them bad, huh? And why not? Maman gets out of his chair. Approaches Salim. MAMAN (CONT'D) The time has come to choose, yaar. The life of a slum dog or the life of a man. A real man. A gunfighter, Salim. Maman holds Salim's head in his hands. MAMAN (CONT'D) Your destiny is in your hands, bhai. You can be me. Or nobody. Understand? SALIM Yes, Maman. Maman nods. MAMAN So, brother, go get Jamal. Salim is frozen for another few seconds, then turns and walks out of the door. Punnoose appears at the door. Maman nods to him and he slips off after Salim. 62 INT. DORMITORY, ORPHANAGE. NIGHT. 62 All the children are asleep apart from Jamal who is crouched underneath a couple of wash-basins. (CONTINUED) 40. 62 CONTINUED: 62 He is talking through a plate-sized hole in the crumbling masonry. Latika's eyes can be seen. JAMAL ...weddings, government things, big parties. If Maman says my voice is ready. Big money. LATIKA Enough for a room? JAMAL Easily. Maybe an apartment. LATIKA Really? JAMAL That's what Arvind said. On Harbour Road. You, me and Salim. The three musketeers. LATIKA Harbour Road! We can have ice cream from Babanji's. JAMAL Every day if we want. Salim appears at the door. Nods his head at Jamal. JAMAL (CONT'D) It's my turn. LATIKA Good luck, Jamal. Latika's hand comes through the gap. Jamal takes it for a moment. Salim hisses at Jamal. He lets go of the hand and heads out. 63 EXT. PATH. NIGHT. 63 Salim and Jamal walk along the path, Jamal humming happily. Salim checks behind him, sees Punnoose following. JAMAL So, this is it, hey, bhai? The good life, here we come.... SALIM (conversationally) Athos. Jamal is suddenly alert. Slows (CONTINUED) 41. 63 CONTINUED: 63 JAMAL Porthos? Salim nods. Big smile. Puts a hand on Jamal's shoulder. SALIM When I say. 64 INT. SHACK. NIGHT. 64 Salim guides Jamal into the shack where Maman and the Villager are waiting. Maman smiles. Punnoose slips in behind Salim. MAMAN Jamal, hello. You have done well. It's time for you to- turn professional. JAMAL Really? MAMAN Sing me a song, yaar. How about Chalo Ri Murali, huh? My favourite. Jamal opens his mouth, then closes it again. Holds out his hand. JAMAL Fifty rupees. MAMAN What? JAMAL (shrugs) I've turned professional. What can I do? Maman laughs. MAMAN Sala...! He throws some notes at him. 65 EXT. SHACK. NIGHT. 65 Outside, a giggle. Latika is peering through a gap in the wall. 42. 66 INT. SHACK. NIGHT. 66 Jamal begins to sing. Maman waits a while, then nods to Punnoose. Behind Jamal, Punnoose hands Salim the bottle of chloroform and the rag. Salim approaches the back of Jamal. Salim waits until he has finished the song. Raises his hand with the rag in it. Maman smiles, nods. Salim flings the contents of the bottle in Punnoose's face. Punnoose screams and stumbles back clutching his eyes, knocking over the table. SALIM Go! Salim and Jamal scramble for the door. The knocked-over candle catches the spilled chloroform and a curtain which whooshes up in flame. LATIKA Jamal! JAMAL Run! 66A EXT. SHACK. NIGHT. 66A They charge past the prone Arvind- a flash of bloodied bandages covering his eyes. 67 EXT. HILLSIDE. NIGHT. 67 Heavy, desperate breathing. Feet stumble on roots. Fall into holes. The three children are running. Branches smack into their faces. But they are so scared, nothing will stop them. Behind them, torches scour the undergrowth. Men shouting. They break out of the woods and are confronted with a train goods yard. 68 EXT. GOODS YARD. NIGHT. 68 They run over the tracks, between the trains, but the shouts are getting louder, the torches closer. A diesel engine is moving out of the station. Jamal, Latika and Salim sprint for the Guard's Van at the very back of the moving train. Punnoose is closest to them. Salim is fastest and first to jump the train. He holds out his hand. Jamal grabs it and is hauled in. Jamal holds his hand out to Latika. JAMAL Come on! Faster! She reaches out to him. Their hands almost touch. (CONTINUED) 43. 68 CONTINUED: 68 JAMAL (CONT'D) Take it! Take it! I can't reach... Salim barges Jamal out of the way. Jamal stumbles back as Salim reaches his hand out to Latika, so he doesn't see Latika's hand grasp Salim's, nor see their eyes lock onto each other, nor see Salim very deliberately let go of her hand. Latika stumbles. LATIKA Jamal! Jamal scrambles to the rail. The train gains more speed. Jamal climbs on to the top rung, makes to jump, but Salim flings him backward. Jamal tries to scramble to his feet again, but Salim restrains him. JAMAL Got to go back. We've got to go back. SALIM He'll kill us if we go back. Jamal! He was going to take your eyes out- with a bloody spoon! The train is speeding along. Jamal breaks free and stares back at Latika. SALIM (CONT'D) She'll be alright. She always is. Latika stumbles again and stops running. They watch as Punnoose catches up with her and stops running. He smashes Latika to the ground. 69 INT. STUDIO. NIGHT. 69 PREM The question was, for two hundred and fifty thousand rupees: who wrote the famous song Chalo Ri Murali. I should warn you, Jamal: from this question on, if you get the answer wrong you lose everything. So. Are you sure? The life-lines are there.... JAMAL Surdas. PREM Surdas. Apka final jawab? (CONTINUED) 44. 69 CONTINUED: 69 JAMAL Yes. PREM Computer-ji, A lock kiya-jaye. The lights dim, the music swells. Prem presses a button on his computer: looks him straight in the eyes for an age. PREM (CONT'D) (simply) Guess what? You're right. Applause, music, lights. 70 INT. INSPECTOR'S OFFICE. DAY. 70 The Inspector is eying Jamal, weighing it all up. JAMAL (shrugging) Blind singers earn double. You know that. INSPECTOR And what happened to the girl? They blinded her too? JAMAL (shakes his head) They had other plans. Though it took me a long, long time to find out. 71 EXT. TRAIN. MORNING. 71 Salim and Jamal are sitting on top of the train. Jamal is staring blankly down the track. SALIM Ar , Jamal... Salim puts an arm around Jamal's shoulder. Jamal wipes the tears from his eyes, shakes his head furiously. Salim gets up. Holds out his hand. SALIM (CONT'D) Come. JAMAL Where you going? SALIM First class, bhai. Where else? 45.

builder

How many times the word 'builder' appears in the text?

to a colleague. Puts out his cigarette with purpose. JAMAL Let's go, bhai. Salim and Jamal run. The girl follows. 22. 33 EXT. MUMBAI. EVENING. 33 Salim and Jamal stand on a hill overlooking the city. Black smoke billows from a large area that is clearly the Juhu slum. Standing a little way off is the girl. JAMAL We should go back. Silence. JAMAL (CONT'D) See if Ama- Salim shakes his head fiercely, silencing Jamal for a moment. But only a moment. JAMAL (CONT'D) What about Jeevan Chacha? Salim shakes his head. JAMAL (CONT'D) Maybe he- Salim shakes his head again. SALIM - I saw him. He was with them. JAMAL But he wouldn't hurt- SALIM - he was with them! JAMAL But- SALIM - shut up, Jamal, can't you? Just shut up! Salim turns away and sees the girl. Picks up a rock and hurls it at her. She dodges, takes a couple of steps back but makes no real attempt to get away. He finds another rock and hurls this in her direction too. SALIM (CONT'D) Ja! Then a flash of lightning and thunder rumbles across the city. Rain begins to come down. JAMAL What shall we do? (CONTINUED) 23. 33 CONTINUED: 33 No answer. Jamal sits down. Salim sits down. At a distance, the girl sits down. Rain pours down their faces. 34 INT. BUILDER'S YARD. NIGHT. 34 Rain as you've never seen. A pile of huge water pipes in a sprawling builder's yard. Jamal is in one pipe, Salim above him in another. They are both soaked, shivering, but have found some plastic sheet to wrap themselves in. Outside, thirty feet away, stands the girl. Staring. Salim hisses angrily at the girl. SALIM Go away. Ja, ja! The girl might not even have heard. SALIM (CONT'D) She'll have the Security Guard onto us, standing there. JAMAL Not if we let her in. SALIM No. JAMAL She could be the third musketeer. SALIM I am the head of this family, now. And I say no. Piss off, you. Salim huddles down in the pipe. After a while, Jamal follows suit. SALIM (CONT'D) We don't even know what the third musketeer's called. 35 EXT. JUHU SLUM. DAY 35 A flash of Jamal's mother being clubbed to the ground. Her scream. 36 INT. BUILDER'S YARD. LATER. 36 Jamal wakes with a jolt and a scream half-swallowed in his mouth. He shuts his eyes tight, trying to force the image out. His breathing slows and he sees the girl staring at him. Salim, too, is staring into nothing. The rain is still falling. (CONTINUED) 24. 36 CONTINUED: 36 The girl goes back to drawing shapes in the mud with her finger. Jamal climbs out of the pipe. Looks at Salim for permission or refusal, but he just continues to stare. So, Jamal walks across to her. She looks up, wary. JAMAL Where's your Mother? Silence. JAMAL (CONT'D) Father? The girl shakes her head slightly. Jamal takes the plastic sheet from around his shoulders. Gives it to her. JAMAL (CONT'D) I'm Jamal. He's Salim. LATIKA Latika. Jamal goes back to his water pipe, climbs in. Watches her huddled under the sheet. Sighs, motions for her to join him. She darts across, jumps into the water pipe and huddles up next to Jamal. 37 INT. INSPECTOR'S OFFICE. DAY. 37 Jamal looks at the Inspector. JAMAL I wake up every morning wishing I didn't know the answer to that question? If it wasn't for Ram and Allah, I would still have a Mother. 38 INT. STUDIO. NIGHT 38 JAMAL D) A bow and arrow. PREM Final answer? JAMAL Final answer. Prem stares at him for dramatic effect. Presses his computer. PREM Computer-ji, D lock kiya-jaye. (CONTINUED) 25. 38 CONTINUED: 38 The lights dim, the music swells. PREM (CONT'D) Jamal Malik, you answered D? Ram is depicted with a bow and arrow in his hand. And guess what? You've just won sixteen thousand rupees! Well done, my friend. Time for a commercial break- don't go away, now. Music, applause. Prem switches off his professional smile. Gets up. PREM (CONT'D) Got lucky, huh? I'd take the money. You'll never get the next one. JAMAL You're from the Juhu slum, aren't you? PREM Hmm? Sure. Know where I live now, kid? Pali Hill. Twelve bedrooms, a/c in every room, two kitchens, a gym and a screening room. Steel balls is what it takes, my friend, steel balls. The Floor Manager comes over and gives his head-phones set to Prem. Prem listens. DIRECTOR V/O Prem? Tone it down, for goodness sake. You're making him a laughing stock. Prem glances up at the gallery with contempt. PREM We're having fun here. They love it...Where the hell do you get them from? He makes no attempt to hide the conversation from Jamal. DIRECTOR V/O It's supposed to be a quiz show, not a blood sport. FLOOR MANAGER Two minutes. (CONTINUED) 26. 38 CONTINUED: (2) 38 PREM Stop wetting your pants. I'll be a good little boy with the next one. Promise. He chucks the head-phones back at the Floor Manager. Glances in the wings. Sees Nita, the make-up woman. Gets up and goes over. 39 INT. STUDIO. BACKSTAGE. NIGHT. 39 In the half-light, backstage, Nita dabs his face with powder. PREM Meet me after the show. Please. NITA No. PREM Nita, I can explain. NITA No need. I read it in bloody Stardust. Didn't even have the balls to tell me. "Prem's happiness with another baby on the way". After everything you said... PREM Baby, it all happened before I met you. I swear to you. NITA She's got the gestation period of an elephant, then. Prem is about to object. But instead, he laughs. PREM You see? Amidst all this misery, only you can make me laugh. Scornful but hints of melting. NITA All this misery... PREM Her and I- nothing. You have to believe me, baby... Nita turns away. The Floor Manager comes over. FLOOR MANAGER One minute. (CONTINUED) 27. 39 CONTINUED: 39 Prem slings himself in a chair. PREM No. I'm not going on. NITA Prem... PREM I can't. Without you, it's all pointless. Clicks his fingers at the Floor Manager. PREM (CONT'D) You. Tell the Director. Nita shakes her head at the Floor Manager who by now is looking very worried. FLOOR MANAGER Thirty seconds. Prem shrugs and folds his arms. Sees her weaken. NITA Prem... PREM Calypso Bar, private room, just you and me? FLOOR MANAGER Fifteen. NITA (furious) Alright. He grins, jumps up, blows her a kiss, and stalks back on stage. 40 INT. STUDIO. NIGHT. 40 He sits back down, says almost to himself. PREM Steel balls. Turns to Jamal. PREM (CONT'D) Okay, Juhu boy, you've had a good run. Take your Mother to Khandala and eat some chiki. JAMAL My Mother's dead. (CONTINUED) 28. 40 CONTINUED: 40 PREM Well, your girlfriend then. Even better. JAMAL I don't have a girl-friend. PREM Live wire like you? You surprise me. FLOOR MANAGER Five, four... The warm-up man starts the applause. TALKBACK V/O ....three, two, one... Cheering and music. Prem switches on his charm. PREM Welcome back to Who Wants to be a Millionaire! Our contestant, Jamal Malik, Call Centre Assistant- from Mumbai, is on sixteen thousand rupees and has already used one lifeline: Ask the Audience. So, my friend: are you ready for the next question? JAMAL Yes. PREM Then, let's play. Portentous music. The lights dim. PREM (CONT'D) For sixty-four thousand rupees. The British architect Frederick Stevens designed which famous building in India? Is it: A) The Taj Mahal. B) Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus. C) India Gate. D) Howrah Bridge. What do you think, Jamal? Are you one of those tea-boys with a penchant for architecture? 41 INT. CHHATRAPATI SHIVAJI TERMINUS. DAY. 41 Known to everyone as VT station, this monument to Victorian railway architecture is a dangerous place to be at rush hour. (CONTINUED) 29. 41 CONTINUED: 41 Even before the train has stopped, men are jumping from the open doors, or vaulting out of the windows or from the roof of the train to join the tens of thousands of Mumbaites streaming to and from work. A seventeen-year old Jamal squeezes himself out of a train and shoves through the crowds. He checks the time. The digital numerals flick to five O'clock. Looks around the tide of humanity. 42 INT. STUDIO. NIGHT. 42 PREM So, what's it to be? Walk away and this cheque for sixteen thousand rupees is yours. Look, it's even got your name on it. He produces a cheque and waves it at Jamal. JAMAL I don't have a bank account. Laughter from the audience. Prem is momentarily wrong- footed. JAMAL (CONT'D) But I'll take cash. More laughter, this time with Jamal, rather than at him. Prem gets up and starts rummaging theatrically through his jacket pockets and trousers. PREM Nope. Looks like the Producer's stolen my wallet again- JAMAL - I'll play. Nobody was expecting this. Least of all Prem who has to rearrange his features into one of surprised delight. He sits down. PREM You'll play? JAMAL Why not? PREM Well, well, well. We've got a wild one, here. Prem tears up the cheque with theatrical slowness. (CONTINUED) 30. 42 CONTINUED: 42 PREM (CONT'D) For sixty-four thousand rupees, Ladies and Gentlemen, the question once again.... 43 INT. CHHATRAPATI SHIVAJI TERMINUS. DAY. 43 The digital clocks show five fifteen. Shoving the descending river of people out of his way, the eighteen year-old Jamal is forging a path up steps that cross the platforms. He pushes to the middle of the footbridge and leans out on the side railings. He scans the sea of people, desperately. Then he sees her: the eighteen year-old Latika, heart-stoppingly beautiful, over the other side of the station. A world away. She is scanning the crowd, as wired as he is. JAMAL Latika! Latika! But though he is screaming her name, his voice is swallowed by the noise around him. Then he sees two thuggish-looking men also fighting a way towards her. JAMAL (CONT'D) Latika! Frightened now, he fights his way down the steps, one figure against an army of white-robed people. JAMAL (CONT'D) Latika! JAMAL V/O Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus. PREM V/O Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus. Sure? JAMAL V/O I think so. PREM V/O You think so. A brave man, Ladies and Gentlemen, a brave man. 44 INT. CHHATRAPATI SHIVAJI TERMINUS. DAY. 44 The commuters have mostly gone. Jamal is pacing the platform desperately. He stops, stares blankly at the statue in front of him- a proud, rather pompous figure in a Victorian frock coat. The plaque reads: Frederick Stevens. 31. 45 INT. INSPECTOR'S OFFICE. NIGHT. 45 The Inspector, Srinivas and Jamal are staring at the video recorder. JAMAL Yes. Final answer. Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus. PREM Is the right answer! Sixty-four thousand rupees to you, Sir! Applause and music. The Inspector presses pause. Stares at Jamal. INSPECTOR And did she come back? Jamal smiles sadly. JAMAL I wouldn't be here if she had. INSPECTOR Pretty was she? Jamal stares down at his feet. INSPECTOR (CONT'D) Guess not. Right in the eyes. JAMAL The most beautiful woman in the world. Constable Srinivas snorts. Suddenly, Jamal is out of his chair and at Srinivas' throat. The combined force of the Inspector and Srinivas force him roughly back down. He is again handcuffed to the chair. INSPECTOR OF POLICE Well, well. The slum dog barks. Money or women. The reason for most mistakes in life. Looks like you got mixed up with both. Srinivas, you need the exercise: a trip to VT Station to check on the statue. And lock your bloody bike up. Constable Srinivas swears under his breath but bumbles out. (CONTINUED) 32. 45 CONTINUED: 45 INSPECTOR That's the chutiy out the way. Now, man to man. How did you know all the answers? JAMAL If I knew, I'd tell you. 46 OMITTED 46 47 OMITTED 47 48 INT. STUDIO. NIGHT. 48 PREM Now we're into the serious money. For two hundred and fifty thousand rupees, ladies and gentlemen, a quarter of a million rupees...the song Chalo Ri Murali was written by which famous Indian poet. Was it A) Surdas. B) Tulsidas. C) Mira Bai. D) Kabir. Remember you still have two lifelines- fifty- fifty and Phone A Friend. Tempted to use one? JAMAL No. PREM No? JAMAL I know this one. PREM Oh. I see. An expert on the poets, huh? The lights dim, the music swells and Prem presses his computer. 49 EXT. MUMBAI STREET. NIGHT. 49 Jamal is studying a piece of paper and reading out numbers from it. There is something not quite right about Jamal- perhaps the fact that there are two feet by his ears. Salim is standing on his shoulders and spraying the numbers on a wall with an aerosol and a certain lack of confidence. (CONTINUED) 33. 49 CONTINUED: 49 JAMAL Four, nine, zero, nine- the one with the stick going down, Salim- six- stick going up- Latika's head appears from around the corner. LATIKA (whispered) Oi! But they don't hear. Then she is running for her life past the pair of them. JAMAL Six, one, shit, let's go- Salim collapses off Jamal's shoulders and all three run off down an alley past a dozen of the gang's sprayed-on adverts all reading: "Beanbags- 989 4909661". A fat Security Guard with a long stick huffs round the corner. Chases them up an alley. Nowhere to go except through an imposing gate that clearly leads to a private house. SECURITY GUARD Got you now, little shits. 50 EXT. GARDEN. NIGHT. 50 They charge across the lawn, down one side of the house where all the washing is hanging. The Guard gets caught up in drying sheets, towels. He fights his way through to see Salim, Latika and Jamal leaping over the wall to safety. But Jamal turns, jumps back and grabs a girl's dress from the line. SECURITY GUARD Aha! Little thief! The Security Guard lands a couple of blows on Jamal's back as he dodges around him and back across the lawn, dress in hand. The Security Guard gives up. SECURITY GUARD (CONT'D) Pervert! 51 INT. ALLEY. NIGHT. 51 Jamal is examing the bruises on his legs. SALIM Useless bloody look-out. What good is she, huh? (CONTINUED) 34. 51 CONTINUED: 51 LATIKA (infuriated) I tried to warn you. JAMAL It's okay, Salim. Latika slips on the dress. Spins. Both of them look up. Stare. She pulls her hair back, smiles, is transformed into a beautiful girl. 52 EXT. GORAI BEACH DUMPING GROUND. DAY. 52 Blazing sun. Diggers and trucks are shifting mounds of rubble on a rubbish dump that seems to stretch for ever. Oblivious to the dust kicked up by the trucks, Latika is picking up old plastic bags, examining each one and putting the less worn in a big sack. The dress is recognisable but dusty and torn. She stoops to dig another bag out of the dirt, but stops and stares. Shimmering in the heat, a rickety pick-up truck comes through the rubbish dump gates. Toots at the Guard who waves, pulls up in the dump. "Hope Orphanage is written on the side of the van. A man gets out. Looks around. 53 INT. `TENT'. DAY. 53 Under sheets of plastic propped up on sticks, Jamal and Salim are sleeping out the hottest part of the day. Jamal wakes to see a figure standing over him- a silhouette with a halo of sun behind him. Out of his bag, the man produces a bottle of Thumbs Up. He uncaps it with an alluring hiss. It is almost an advert for thirst-quenching affluence. Almost instinctively, Salim and Jamal stir. MAN Hello. He hands the bottle to Salim, gets another from his bag and waves it questioningly at Jamal. MAN (CONT'D) Hot, huh? My name is Maman. 54 EXT. ORPHANAGE. EVENING. 54 The hills on the edge of Bombay. Greenery and space, for the first time in the film. The pick-up truck pulls up outside a building with Jamal, Salim and Latika sitting on a bench in the back. Maman gets out. Drops the gate on the back of the pick-up. MAMAN Anyone hungry? Come on in. 35. 55 INT. ORPHANAGE COURTYARD. EVENING. 55 Twenty children are eating at long benches in a ramshackle courtyard. Maman, ushers Jamal, Salim and Latika in and sits them down at one of the benches. He waves a hand and a giant man, Punnoose, comes over with a big bowl of food. The three tear into it. Cleaning every last morsel of rice from his plate, Jamal looks up and notices a table peopled entirely with blind or crippled children. Some of the legless are eating on the floor next to the table. Jamal leans over to Salim. JAMAL He must be a very good man to look after these people. SALIM (glancing at them) A saint. Arvind, a boy smaller than either Jamal or Salim overhears. ARVIND We're not allowed to talk to them. LATIKA Why not? Arvind shrugs. Latika licks her plate, glances at Maman who is looking right at them. LATIKA (CONT'D) Well, if there are seconds, Maman is definitely a Saint. As if telepathic, Maman signals to Punnoose and he brings a large bowl of rice and dhal over to them. Latika looks at Jamal and Salim. They burst out laughing. LATIKA (CONT'D) I tell you, Lord Siva is with us. 56 INT. ORPHANAGE. EVENING. 56 Salim, Latika, Jamal and a group of children are standing in a line singing a doha- ancient lyrics set to music. Maman is leading the singing, walking up and down the line listening to each one individually. He stops at one small boy, Arvind, and listens. Nods his head, pleased, and continues down the line until he stops in front of Jamal. Holds up his hand. MAMAN Stop! You. Again. (CONTINUED) 36. 56 CONTINUED: 56 Jamal starts singing again. He has the sweetest of voices. Untrained but pure. Maman smiles, ruffles Jamal's hair, impressed. MAMAN (CONT'D) Everyone. They all join in. Maman continues down the line. He stops at Salim whose octave-slipping singing is lusty and appallingly out of tune. Maman winces and moves on. Standing next to Salim, Latika giggles. Immediately, Salim is on her. Before a fight breaks out, Punnoose pulls Salim off Latika and hurls him across the room. Salim gets up and charges at Punnoose. For a second, Punnoose is back-footed, but then pins Salim's arms to his side. Maman laughs. Approaches Salim. MAMAN (CONT'D) You sing like one, and you fight like one. I think you've found your dog, Punnoose. 57 EXT. CENTRAL MUMBAI TRAFFIC. DAY. 57 A group of children are sitting in the jumble of concrete under a motorway flyover. Cars surround them, bumper to bumper. Latika and Jamal are playing an improvised hopscotch on concrete slabs. They are giggling, bumping into each other, tickling, laughing. Salim and Punnoose are sitting together, smoking. Salim is staring hard at Jamal and Latika until Punnoose grunts, a sign for Salim to clap his hands. SALIM Okay, let's go, let's go! It's not a bloody holiday! The children get to their feet. Latika sighs, puts a patch over her eye and grabs a pair of crutches. Suddenly, the lame beggar. Salim goes over to one of the girls, who is carrying a sleeping baby. Puts out his hand. SALIM (CONT'D) Give me that. The girl shakes her head. Salim grabs her by the hair in one hand and takes the baby with the other. He shoves her to the ground. The other children stare. JAMAL Hey, Salim! He challenges Jamal. SALIM What, chot bhai? You got a problem? (CONTINUED) 37. 57 CONTINUED: 57 He laughs and walks over to Latika. SALIM (CONT'D) Here. For you. LATIKA I don't want it. SALIM You'll earn double. I'm doing you a favour, Latika. JAMAL She doesn't want it. SALIM Chup, Jamal. Latika turns away and begins to walk towards the cars. SALIM (CONT'D) I'll drop it. He holds the baby up. Latika grabs the baby with a cry just as Salim releases it from his hands. Salim pinches the baby. SALIM (CONT'D) Triple if it's crying. Latika snatches it away. Salim laughs, goes back to sitting with Punnoose. The children scatter to the cars trapped at the lights, tapping plaintively on the windows and making the universal begging gesture. 58 INT. ORPHANAGE. KITCHEN. NIGHT. 58 Surrounded by beer bottles, Punnoose is slumped asleep by the kitchen door. Latika edges past, avoids the cook sleeping under the table and goes to a shelf laden with vegetables. She pulls down a bunch of chillies still on the vine, strips a few off and tip-toes out with them. 59 INT. ORPHANAGE. DORMITORY. NIGHT. 59 Sleeping children, three or four to a mattress on the floor. Latika tip-toes around the mattresses. She pauses over one in particular where we see Salim, asleep. She carefully pulls up the sheet, delves underneath. Pleasant dreams cross Salim's sleeping face for a second. Then suddenly, he is bolt upright and screaming. He charges around the room clutching his genitals in agony. SALIM Madher chod...! (CONTINUED) 38. 59 CONTINUED: 59 He sprints out of the room, wailing. 60 INT. ORPHANAGE. SHOWERS. NIGHT. 60 The lights are on and two dozen children are screaming with laughter as Salim stands under the make-shift shower directing the water down his pants to his burning genitals, his face a picture of agony. Latika wipes crushed chillies from her hands. SALIM You're dead, sala. She smiles and walks past Jamal with a shrug. Then Punnoose comes stalking in and the children scatter away. PUNNOOSE Get back to bed, dogs! What the hell... JAMAL V/O They taught me every song in the history of Indian music. INSPECTOR V/O And why would they do that, I wonder? 61 INT. SHACK. NIGHT. 61 In a shack, Arvind is singing one of Surdas' bhajans in front of Maman and an old man who by his ragged appearance must be a villager. Punnoose and Salim sit behind Arvind. MAMAN Very good, very good. I am pleased, Arvind. He is ready. ARVIND Ready? Maman nods to Punnoose. Before Arvind can turn round, Punnoose has covered his mouth with a cloth and after the briefest of struggles, Arvind's body goes limp. The villager puts an old tin box on the table. Taking the lid from the tin, he brings out a cloth and unwraps it. Inside is a spoon. He checks the edge with his thumb. Sharp. Douses it with a clear liquid from a bottle and passes it over a candle flame. The spoon whooshes with a high flame for a moment. The villager wipes it with the cloth nods to Punnoose. PUNNOOSE Salim! (CONTINUED) 39. 61 CONTINUED: 61 Utterly bemused, Salim nevertheless helps Punnoose lay Arvind on the table. The villager takes hold of Arvind's eyelid and pulls it open. He brings the spoon close. Suddenly, Salim is being sick in the corner of the shack. By the time he has turned back, the villager is wiping the spoon on a blood-soaked rag. MAMAN Okay. Take him out the back. Punnoose picks up Arvind and carries him out. MAMAN (CONT'D) Now the other one. Salim, go get Jamal. A frozen moment. SALIM What? MAMAN Gunfighter Number One, isn't that right, Salim? The money, the women, the cars...you want them bad, huh? And why not? Maman gets out of his chair. Approaches Salim. MAMAN (CONT'D) The time has come to choose, yaar. The life of a slum dog or the life of a man. A real man. A gunfighter, Salim. Maman holds Salim's head in his hands. MAMAN (CONT'D) Your destiny is in your hands, bhai. You can be me. Or nobody. Understand? SALIM Yes, Maman. Maman nods. MAMAN So, brother, go get Jamal. Salim is frozen for another few seconds, then turns and walks out of the door. Punnoose appears at the door. Maman nods to him and he slips off after Salim. 62 INT. DORMITORY, ORPHANAGE. NIGHT. 62 All the children are asleep apart from Jamal who is crouched underneath a couple of wash-basins. (CONTINUED) 40. 62 CONTINUED: 62 He is talking through a plate-sized hole in the crumbling masonry. Latika's eyes can be seen. JAMAL ...weddings, government things, big parties. If Maman says my voice is ready. Big money. LATIKA Enough for a room? JAMAL Easily. Maybe an apartment. LATIKA Really? JAMAL That's what Arvind said. On Harbour Road. You, me and Salim. The three musketeers. LATIKA Harbour Road! We can have ice cream from Babanji's. JAMAL Every day if we want. Salim appears at the door. Nods his head at Jamal. JAMAL (CONT'D) It's my turn. LATIKA Good luck, Jamal. Latika's hand comes through the gap. Jamal takes it for a moment. Salim hisses at Jamal. He lets go of the hand and heads out. 63 EXT. PATH. NIGHT. 63 Salim and Jamal walk along the path, Jamal humming happily. Salim checks behind him, sees Punnoose following. JAMAL So, this is it, hey, bhai? The good life, here we come.... SALIM (conversationally) Athos. Jamal is suddenly alert. Slows (CONTINUED) 41. 63 CONTINUED: 63 JAMAL Porthos? Salim nods. Big smile. Puts a hand on Jamal's shoulder. SALIM When I say. 64 INT. SHACK. NIGHT. 64 Salim guides Jamal into the shack where Maman and the Villager are waiting. Maman smiles. Punnoose slips in behind Salim. MAMAN Jamal, hello. You have done well. It's time for you to- turn professional. JAMAL Really? MAMAN Sing me a song, yaar. How about Chalo Ri Murali, huh? My favourite. Jamal opens his mouth, then closes it again. Holds out his hand. JAMAL Fifty rupees. MAMAN What? JAMAL (shrugs) I've turned professional. What can I do? Maman laughs. MAMAN Sala...! He throws some notes at him. 65 EXT. SHACK. NIGHT. 65 Outside, a giggle. Latika is peering through a gap in the wall. 42. 66 INT. SHACK. NIGHT. 66 Jamal begins to sing. Maman waits a while, then nods to Punnoose. Behind Jamal, Punnoose hands Salim the bottle of chloroform and the rag. Salim approaches the back of Jamal. Salim waits until he has finished the song. Raises his hand with the rag in it. Maman smiles, nods. Salim flings the contents of the bottle in Punnoose's face. Punnoose screams and stumbles back clutching his eyes, knocking over the table. SALIM Go! Salim and Jamal scramble for the door. The knocked-over candle catches the spilled chloroform and a curtain which whooshes up in flame. LATIKA Jamal! JAMAL Run! 66A EXT. SHACK. NIGHT. 66A They charge past the prone Arvind- a flash of bloodied bandages covering his eyes. 67 EXT. HILLSIDE. NIGHT. 67 Heavy, desperate breathing. Feet stumble on roots. Fall into holes. The three children are running. Branches smack into their faces. But they are so scared, nothing will stop them. Behind them, torches scour the undergrowth. Men shouting. They break out of the woods and are confronted with a train goods yard. 68 EXT. GOODS YARD. NIGHT. 68 They run over the tracks, between the trains, but the shouts are getting louder, the torches closer. A diesel engine is moving out of the station. Jamal, Latika and Salim sprint for the Guard's Van at the very back of the moving train. Punnoose is closest to them. Salim is fastest and first to jump the train. He holds out his hand. Jamal grabs it and is hauled in. Jamal holds his hand out to Latika. JAMAL Come on! Faster! She reaches out to him. Their hands almost touch. (CONTINUED) 43. 68 CONTINUED: 68 JAMAL (CONT'D) Take it! Take it! I can't reach... Salim barges Jamal out of the way. Jamal stumbles back as Salim reaches his hand out to Latika, so he doesn't see Latika's hand grasp Salim's, nor see their eyes lock onto each other, nor see Salim very deliberately let go of her hand. Latika stumbles. LATIKA Jamal! Jamal scrambles to the rail. The train gains more speed. Jamal climbs on to the top rung, makes to jump, but Salim flings him backward. Jamal tries to scramble to his feet again, but Salim restrains him. JAMAL Got to go back. We've got to go back. SALIM He'll kill us if we go back. Jamal! He was going to take your eyes out- with a bloody spoon! The train is speeding along. Jamal breaks free and stares back at Latika. SALIM (CONT'D) She'll be alright. She always is. Latika stumbles again and stops running. They watch as Punnoose catches up with her and stops running. He smashes Latika to the ground. 69 INT. STUDIO. NIGHT. 69 PREM The question was, for two hundred and fifty thousand rupees: who wrote the famous song Chalo Ri Murali. I should warn you, Jamal: from this question on, if you get the answer wrong you lose everything. So. Are you sure? The life-lines are there.... JAMAL Surdas. PREM Surdas. Apka final jawab? (CONTINUED) 44. 69 CONTINUED: 69 JAMAL Yes. PREM Computer-ji, A lock kiya-jaye. The lights dim, the music swells. Prem presses a button on his computer: looks him straight in the eyes for an age. PREM (CONT'D) (simply) Guess what? You're right. Applause, music, lights. 70 INT. INSPECTOR'S OFFICE. DAY. 70 The Inspector is eying Jamal, weighing it all up. JAMAL (shrugging) Blind singers earn double. You know that. INSPECTOR And what happened to the girl? They blinded her too? JAMAL (shakes his head) They had other plans. Though it took me a long, long time to find out. 71 EXT. TRAIN. MORNING. 71 Salim and Jamal are sitting on top of the train. Jamal is staring blankly down the track. SALIM Ar , Jamal... Salim puts an arm around Jamal's shoulder. Jamal wipes the tears from his eyes, shakes his head furiously. Salim gets up. Holds out his hand. SALIM (CONT'D) Come. JAMAL Where you going? SALIM First class, bhai. Where else? 45.

problem

How many times the word 'problem' appears in the text?

to a colleague. Puts out his cigarette with purpose. JAMAL Let's go, bhai. Salim and Jamal run. The girl follows. 22. 33 EXT. MUMBAI. EVENING. 33 Salim and Jamal stand on a hill overlooking the city. Black smoke billows from a large area that is clearly the Juhu slum. Standing a little way off is the girl. JAMAL We should go back. Silence. JAMAL (CONT'D) See if Ama- Salim shakes his head fiercely, silencing Jamal for a moment. But only a moment. JAMAL (CONT'D) What about Jeevan Chacha? Salim shakes his head. JAMAL (CONT'D) Maybe he- Salim shakes his head again. SALIM - I saw him. He was with them. JAMAL But he wouldn't hurt- SALIM - he was with them! JAMAL But- SALIM - shut up, Jamal, can't you? Just shut up! Salim turns away and sees the girl. Picks up a rock and hurls it at her. She dodges, takes a couple of steps back but makes no real attempt to get away. He finds another rock and hurls this in her direction too. SALIM (CONT'D) Ja! Then a flash of lightning and thunder rumbles across the city. Rain begins to come down. JAMAL What shall we do? (CONTINUED) 23. 33 CONTINUED: 33 No answer. Jamal sits down. Salim sits down. At a distance, the girl sits down. Rain pours down their faces. 34 INT. BUILDER'S YARD. NIGHT. 34 Rain as you've never seen. A pile of huge water pipes in a sprawling builder's yard. Jamal is in one pipe, Salim above him in another. They are both soaked, shivering, but have found some plastic sheet to wrap themselves in. Outside, thirty feet away, stands the girl. Staring. Salim hisses angrily at the girl. SALIM Go away. Ja, ja! The girl might not even have heard. SALIM (CONT'D) She'll have the Security Guard onto us, standing there. JAMAL Not if we let her in. SALIM No. JAMAL She could be the third musketeer. SALIM I am the head of this family, now. And I say no. Piss off, you. Salim huddles down in the pipe. After a while, Jamal follows suit. SALIM (CONT'D) We don't even know what the third musketeer's called. 35 EXT. JUHU SLUM. DAY 35 A flash of Jamal's mother being clubbed to the ground. Her scream. 36 INT. BUILDER'S YARD. LATER. 36 Jamal wakes with a jolt and a scream half-swallowed in his mouth. He shuts his eyes tight, trying to force the image out. His breathing slows and he sees the girl staring at him. Salim, too, is staring into nothing. The rain is still falling. (CONTINUED) 24. 36 CONTINUED: 36 The girl goes back to drawing shapes in the mud with her finger. Jamal climbs out of the pipe. Looks at Salim for permission or refusal, but he just continues to stare. So, Jamal walks across to her. She looks up, wary. JAMAL Where's your Mother? Silence. JAMAL (CONT'D) Father? The girl shakes her head slightly. Jamal takes the plastic sheet from around his shoulders. Gives it to her. JAMAL (CONT'D) I'm Jamal. He's Salim. LATIKA Latika. Jamal goes back to his water pipe, climbs in. Watches her huddled under the sheet. Sighs, motions for her to join him. She darts across, jumps into the water pipe and huddles up next to Jamal. 37 INT. INSPECTOR'S OFFICE. DAY. 37 Jamal looks at the Inspector. JAMAL I wake up every morning wishing I didn't know the answer to that question? If it wasn't for Ram and Allah, I would still have a Mother. 38 INT. STUDIO. NIGHT 38 JAMAL D) A bow and arrow. PREM Final answer? JAMAL Final answer. Prem stares at him for dramatic effect. Presses his computer. PREM Computer-ji, D lock kiya-jaye. (CONTINUED) 25. 38 CONTINUED: 38 The lights dim, the music swells. PREM (CONT'D) Jamal Malik, you answered D? Ram is depicted with a bow and arrow in his hand. And guess what? You've just won sixteen thousand rupees! Well done, my friend. Time for a commercial break- don't go away, now. Music, applause. Prem switches off his professional smile. Gets up. PREM (CONT'D) Got lucky, huh? I'd take the money. You'll never get the next one. JAMAL You're from the Juhu slum, aren't you? PREM Hmm? Sure. Know where I live now, kid? Pali Hill. Twelve bedrooms, a/c in every room, two kitchens, a gym and a screening room. Steel balls is what it takes, my friend, steel balls. The Floor Manager comes over and gives his head-phones set to Prem. Prem listens. DIRECTOR V/O Prem? Tone it down, for goodness sake. You're making him a laughing stock. Prem glances up at the gallery with contempt. PREM We're having fun here. They love it...Where the hell do you get them from? He makes no attempt to hide the conversation from Jamal. DIRECTOR V/O It's supposed to be a quiz show, not a blood sport. FLOOR MANAGER Two minutes. (CONTINUED) 26. 38 CONTINUED: (2) 38 PREM Stop wetting your pants. I'll be a good little boy with the next one. Promise. He chucks the head-phones back at the Floor Manager. Glances in the wings. Sees Nita, the make-up woman. Gets up and goes over. 39 INT. STUDIO. BACKSTAGE. NIGHT. 39 In the half-light, backstage, Nita dabs his face with powder. PREM Meet me after the show. Please. NITA No. PREM Nita, I can explain. NITA No need. I read it in bloody Stardust. Didn't even have the balls to tell me. "Prem's happiness with another baby on the way". After everything you said... PREM Baby, it all happened before I met you. I swear to you. NITA She's got the gestation period of an elephant, then. Prem is about to object. But instead, he laughs. PREM You see? Amidst all this misery, only you can make me laugh. Scornful but hints of melting. NITA All this misery... PREM Her and I- nothing. You have to believe me, baby... Nita turns away. The Floor Manager comes over. FLOOR MANAGER One minute. (CONTINUED) 27. 39 CONTINUED: 39 Prem slings himself in a chair. PREM No. I'm not going on. NITA Prem... PREM I can't. Without you, it's all pointless. Clicks his fingers at the Floor Manager. PREM (CONT'D) You. Tell the Director. Nita shakes her head at the Floor Manager who by now is looking very worried. FLOOR MANAGER Thirty seconds. Prem shrugs and folds his arms. Sees her weaken. NITA Prem... PREM Calypso Bar, private room, just you and me? FLOOR MANAGER Fifteen. NITA (furious) Alright. He grins, jumps up, blows her a kiss, and stalks back on stage. 40 INT. STUDIO. NIGHT. 40 He sits back down, says almost to himself. PREM Steel balls. Turns to Jamal. PREM (CONT'D) Okay, Juhu boy, you've had a good run. Take your Mother to Khandala and eat some chiki. JAMAL My Mother's dead. (CONTINUED) 28. 40 CONTINUED: 40 PREM Well, your girlfriend then. Even better. JAMAL I don't have a girl-friend. PREM Live wire like you? You surprise me. FLOOR MANAGER Five, four... The warm-up man starts the applause. TALKBACK V/O ....three, two, one... Cheering and music. Prem switches on his charm. PREM Welcome back to Who Wants to be a Millionaire! Our contestant, Jamal Malik, Call Centre Assistant- from Mumbai, is on sixteen thousand rupees and has already used one lifeline: Ask the Audience. So, my friend: are you ready for the next question? JAMAL Yes. PREM Then, let's play. Portentous music. The lights dim. PREM (CONT'D) For sixty-four thousand rupees. The British architect Frederick Stevens designed which famous building in India? Is it: A) The Taj Mahal. B) Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus. C) India Gate. D) Howrah Bridge. What do you think, Jamal? Are you one of those tea-boys with a penchant for architecture? 41 INT. CHHATRAPATI SHIVAJI TERMINUS. DAY. 41 Known to everyone as VT station, this monument to Victorian railway architecture is a dangerous place to be at rush hour. (CONTINUED) 29. 41 CONTINUED: 41 Even before the train has stopped, men are jumping from the open doors, or vaulting out of the windows or from the roof of the train to join the tens of thousands of Mumbaites streaming to and from work. A seventeen-year old Jamal squeezes himself out of a train and shoves through the crowds. He checks the time. The digital numerals flick to five O'clock. Looks around the tide of humanity. 42 INT. STUDIO. NIGHT. 42 PREM So, what's it to be? Walk away and this cheque for sixteen thousand rupees is yours. Look, it's even got your name on it. He produces a cheque and waves it at Jamal. JAMAL I don't have a bank account. Laughter from the audience. Prem is momentarily wrong- footed. JAMAL (CONT'D) But I'll take cash. More laughter, this time with Jamal, rather than at him. Prem gets up and starts rummaging theatrically through his jacket pockets and trousers. PREM Nope. Looks like the Producer's stolen my wallet again- JAMAL - I'll play. Nobody was expecting this. Least of all Prem who has to rearrange his features into one of surprised delight. He sits down. PREM You'll play? JAMAL Why not? PREM Well, well, well. We've got a wild one, here. Prem tears up the cheque with theatrical slowness. (CONTINUED) 30. 42 CONTINUED: 42 PREM (CONT'D) For sixty-four thousand rupees, Ladies and Gentlemen, the question once again.... 43 INT. CHHATRAPATI SHIVAJI TERMINUS. DAY. 43 The digital clocks show five fifteen. Shoving the descending river of people out of his way, the eighteen year-old Jamal is forging a path up steps that cross the platforms. He pushes to the middle of the footbridge and leans out on the side railings. He scans the sea of people, desperately. Then he sees her: the eighteen year-old Latika, heart-stoppingly beautiful, over the other side of the station. A world away. She is scanning the crowd, as wired as he is. JAMAL Latika! Latika! But though he is screaming her name, his voice is swallowed by the noise around him. Then he sees two thuggish-looking men also fighting a way towards her. JAMAL (CONT'D) Latika! Frightened now, he fights his way down the steps, one figure against an army of white-robed people. JAMAL (CONT'D) Latika! JAMAL V/O Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus. PREM V/O Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus. Sure? JAMAL V/O I think so. PREM V/O You think so. A brave man, Ladies and Gentlemen, a brave man. 44 INT. CHHATRAPATI SHIVAJI TERMINUS. DAY. 44 The commuters have mostly gone. Jamal is pacing the platform desperately. He stops, stares blankly at the statue in front of him- a proud, rather pompous figure in a Victorian frock coat. The plaque reads: Frederick Stevens. 31. 45 INT. INSPECTOR'S OFFICE. NIGHT. 45 The Inspector, Srinivas and Jamal are staring at the video recorder. JAMAL Yes. Final answer. Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus. PREM Is the right answer! Sixty-four thousand rupees to you, Sir! Applause and music. The Inspector presses pause. Stares at Jamal. INSPECTOR And did she come back? Jamal smiles sadly. JAMAL I wouldn't be here if she had. INSPECTOR Pretty was she? Jamal stares down at his feet. INSPECTOR (CONT'D) Guess not. Right in the eyes. JAMAL The most beautiful woman in the world. Constable Srinivas snorts. Suddenly, Jamal is out of his chair and at Srinivas' throat. The combined force of the Inspector and Srinivas force him roughly back down. He is again handcuffed to the chair. INSPECTOR OF POLICE Well, well. The slum dog barks. Money or women. The reason for most mistakes in life. Looks like you got mixed up with both. Srinivas, you need the exercise: a trip to VT Station to check on the statue. And lock your bloody bike up. Constable Srinivas swears under his breath but bumbles out. (CONTINUED) 32. 45 CONTINUED: 45 INSPECTOR That's the chutiy out the way. Now, man to man. How did you know all the answers? JAMAL If I knew, I'd tell you. 46 OMITTED 46 47 OMITTED 47 48 INT. STUDIO. NIGHT. 48 PREM Now we're into the serious money. For two hundred and fifty thousand rupees, ladies and gentlemen, a quarter of a million rupees...the song Chalo Ri Murali was written by which famous Indian poet. Was it A) Surdas. B) Tulsidas. C) Mira Bai. D) Kabir. Remember you still have two lifelines- fifty- fifty and Phone A Friend. Tempted to use one? JAMAL No. PREM No? JAMAL I know this one. PREM Oh. I see. An expert on the poets, huh? The lights dim, the music swells and Prem presses his computer. 49 EXT. MUMBAI STREET. NIGHT. 49 Jamal is studying a piece of paper and reading out numbers from it. There is something not quite right about Jamal- perhaps the fact that there are two feet by his ears. Salim is standing on his shoulders and spraying the numbers on a wall with an aerosol and a certain lack of confidence. (CONTINUED) 33. 49 CONTINUED: 49 JAMAL Four, nine, zero, nine- the one with the stick going down, Salim- six- stick going up- Latika's head appears from around the corner. LATIKA (whispered) Oi! But they don't hear. Then she is running for her life past the pair of them. JAMAL Six, one, shit, let's go- Salim collapses off Jamal's shoulders and all three run off down an alley past a dozen of the gang's sprayed-on adverts all reading: "Beanbags- 989 4909661". A fat Security Guard with a long stick huffs round the corner. Chases them up an alley. Nowhere to go except through an imposing gate that clearly leads to a private house. SECURITY GUARD Got you now, little shits. 50 EXT. GARDEN. NIGHT. 50 They charge across the lawn, down one side of the house where all the washing is hanging. The Guard gets caught up in drying sheets, towels. He fights his way through to see Salim, Latika and Jamal leaping over the wall to safety. But Jamal turns, jumps back and grabs a girl's dress from the line. SECURITY GUARD Aha! Little thief! The Security Guard lands a couple of blows on Jamal's back as he dodges around him and back across the lawn, dress in hand. The Security Guard gives up. SECURITY GUARD (CONT'D) Pervert! 51 INT. ALLEY. NIGHT. 51 Jamal is examing the bruises on his legs. SALIM Useless bloody look-out. What good is she, huh? (CONTINUED) 34. 51 CONTINUED: 51 LATIKA (infuriated) I tried to warn you. JAMAL It's okay, Salim. Latika slips on the dress. Spins. Both of them look up. Stare. She pulls her hair back, smiles, is transformed into a beautiful girl. 52 EXT. GORAI BEACH DUMPING GROUND. DAY. 52 Blazing sun. Diggers and trucks are shifting mounds of rubble on a rubbish dump that seems to stretch for ever. Oblivious to the dust kicked up by the trucks, Latika is picking up old plastic bags, examining each one and putting the less worn in a big sack. The dress is recognisable but dusty and torn. She stoops to dig another bag out of the dirt, but stops and stares. Shimmering in the heat, a rickety pick-up truck comes through the rubbish dump gates. Toots at the Guard who waves, pulls up in the dump. "Hope Orphanage is written on the side of the van. A man gets out. Looks around. 53 INT. `TENT'. DAY. 53 Under sheets of plastic propped up on sticks, Jamal and Salim are sleeping out the hottest part of the day. Jamal wakes to see a figure standing over him- a silhouette with a halo of sun behind him. Out of his bag, the man produces a bottle of Thumbs Up. He uncaps it with an alluring hiss. It is almost an advert for thirst-quenching affluence. Almost instinctively, Salim and Jamal stir. MAN Hello. He hands the bottle to Salim, gets another from his bag and waves it questioningly at Jamal. MAN (CONT'D) Hot, huh? My name is Maman. 54 EXT. ORPHANAGE. EVENING. 54 The hills on the edge of Bombay. Greenery and space, for the first time in the film. The pick-up truck pulls up outside a building with Jamal, Salim and Latika sitting on a bench in the back. Maman gets out. Drops the gate on the back of the pick-up. MAMAN Anyone hungry? Come on in. 35. 55 INT. ORPHANAGE COURTYARD. EVENING. 55 Twenty children are eating at long benches in a ramshackle courtyard. Maman, ushers Jamal, Salim and Latika in and sits them down at one of the benches. He waves a hand and a giant man, Punnoose, comes over with a big bowl of food. The three tear into it. Cleaning every last morsel of rice from his plate, Jamal looks up and notices a table peopled entirely with blind or crippled children. Some of the legless are eating on the floor next to the table. Jamal leans over to Salim. JAMAL He must be a very good man to look after these people. SALIM (glancing at them) A saint. Arvind, a boy smaller than either Jamal or Salim overhears. ARVIND We're not allowed to talk to them. LATIKA Why not? Arvind shrugs. Latika licks her plate, glances at Maman who is looking right at them. LATIKA (CONT'D) Well, if there are seconds, Maman is definitely a Saint. As if telepathic, Maman signals to Punnoose and he brings a large bowl of rice and dhal over to them. Latika looks at Jamal and Salim. They burst out laughing. LATIKA (CONT'D) I tell you, Lord Siva is with us. 56 INT. ORPHANAGE. EVENING. 56 Salim, Latika, Jamal and a group of children are standing in a line singing a doha- ancient lyrics set to music. Maman is leading the singing, walking up and down the line listening to each one individually. He stops at one small boy, Arvind, and listens. Nods his head, pleased, and continues down the line until he stops in front of Jamal. Holds up his hand. MAMAN Stop! You. Again. (CONTINUED) 36. 56 CONTINUED: 56 Jamal starts singing again. He has the sweetest of voices. Untrained but pure. Maman smiles, ruffles Jamal's hair, impressed. MAMAN (CONT'D) Everyone. They all join in. Maman continues down the line. He stops at Salim whose octave-slipping singing is lusty and appallingly out of tune. Maman winces and moves on. Standing next to Salim, Latika giggles. Immediately, Salim is on her. Before a fight breaks out, Punnoose pulls Salim off Latika and hurls him across the room. Salim gets up and charges at Punnoose. For a second, Punnoose is back-footed, but then pins Salim's arms to his side. Maman laughs. Approaches Salim. MAMAN (CONT'D) You sing like one, and you fight like one. I think you've found your dog, Punnoose. 57 EXT. CENTRAL MUMBAI TRAFFIC. DAY. 57 A group of children are sitting in the jumble of concrete under a motorway flyover. Cars surround them, bumper to bumper. Latika and Jamal are playing an improvised hopscotch on concrete slabs. They are giggling, bumping into each other, tickling, laughing. Salim and Punnoose are sitting together, smoking. Salim is staring hard at Jamal and Latika until Punnoose grunts, a sign for Salim to clap his hands. SALIM Okay, let's go, let's go! It's not a bloody holiday! The children get to their feet. Latika sighs, puts a patch over her eye and grabs a pair of crutches. Suddenly, the lame beggar. Salim goes over to one of the girls, who is carrying a sleeping baby. Puts out his hand. SALIM (CONT'D) Give me that. The girl shakes her head. Salim grabs her by the hair in one hand and takes the baby with the other. He shoves her to the ground. The other children stare. JAMAL Hey, Salim! He challenges Jamal. SALIM What, chot bhai? You got a problem? (CONTINUED) 37. 57 CONTINUED: 57 He laughs and walks over to Latika. SALIM (CONT'D) Here. For you. LATIKA I don't want it. SALIM You'll earn double. I'm doing you a favour, Latika. JAMAL She doesn't want it. SALIM Chup, Jamal. Latika turns away and begins to walk towards the cars. SALIM (CONT'D) I'll drop it. He holds the baby up. Latika grabs the baby with a cry just as Salim releases it from his hands. Salim pinches the baby. SALIM (CONT'D) Triple if it's crying. Latika snatches it away. Salim laughs, goes back to sitting with Punnoose. The children scatter to the cars trapped at the lights, tapping plaintively on the windows and making the universal begging gesture. 58 INT. ORPHANAGE. KITCHEN. NIGHT. 58 Surrounded by beer bottles, Punnoose is slumped asleep by the kitchen door. Latika edges past, avoids the cook sleeping under the table and goes to a shelf laden with vegetables. She pulls down a bunch of chillies still on the vine, strips a few off and tip-toes out with them. 59 INT. ORPHANAGE. DORMITORY. NIGHT. 59 Sleeping children, three or four to a mattress on the floor. Latika tip-toes around the mattresses. She pauses over one in particular where we see Salim, asleep. She carefully pulls up the sheet, delves underneath. Pleasant dreams cross Salim's sleeping face for a second. Then suddenly, he is bolt upright and screaming. He charges around the room clutching his genitals in agony. SALIM Madher chod...! (CONTINUED) 38. 59 CONTINUED: 59 He sprints out of the room, wailing. 60 INT. ORPHANAGE. SHOWERS. NIGHT. 60 The lights are on and two dozen children are screaming with laughter as Salim stands under the make-shift shower directing the water down his pants to his burning genitals, his face a picture of agony. Latika wipes crushed chillies from her hands. SALIM You're dead, sala. She smiles and walks past Jamal with a shrug. Then Punnoose comes stalking in and the children scatter away. PUNNOOSE Get back to bed, dogs! What the hell... JAMAL V/O They taught me every song in the history of Indian music. INSPECTOR V/O And why would they do that, I wonder? 61 INT. SHACK. NIGHT. 61 In a shack, Arvind is singing one of Surdas' bhajans in front of Maman and an old man who by his ragged appearance must be a villager. Punnoose and Salim sit behind Arvind. MAMAN Very good, very good. I am pleased, Arvind. He is ready. ARVIND Ready? Maman nods to Punnoose. Before Arvind can turn round, Punnoose has covered his mouth with a cloth and after the briefest of struggles, Arvind's body goes limp. The villager puts an old tin box on the table. Taking the lid from the tin, he brings out a cloth and unwraps it. Inside is a spoon. He checks the edge with his thumb. Sharp. Douses it with a clear liquid from a bottle and passes it over a candle flame. The spoon whooshes with a high flame for a moment. The villager wipes it with the cloth nods to Punnoose. PUNNOOSE Salim! (CONTINUED) 39. 61 CONTINUED: 61 Utterly bemused, Salim nevertheless helps Punnoose lay Arvind on the table. The villager takes hold of Arvind's eyelid and pulls it open. He brings the spoon close. Suddenly, Salim is being sick in the corner of the shack. By the time he has turned back, the villager is wiping the spoon on a blood-soaked rag. MAMAN Okay. Take him out the back. Punnoose picks up Arvind and carries him out. MAMAN (CONT'D) Now the other one. Salim, go get Jamal. A frozen moment. SALIM What? MAMAN Gunfighter Number One, isn't that right, Salim? The money, the women, the cars...you want them bad, huh? And why not? Maman gets out of his chair. Approaches Salim. MAMAN (CONT'D) The time has come to choose, yaar. The life of a slum dog or the life of a man. A real man. A gunfighter, Salim. Maman holds Salim's head in his hands. MAMAN (CONT'D) Your destiny is in your hands, bhai. You can be me. Or nobody. Understand? SALIM Yes, Maman. Maman nods. MAMAN So, brother, go get Jamal. Salim is frozen for another few seconds, then turns and walks out of the door. Punnoose appears at the door. Maman nods to him and he slips off after Salim. 62 INT. DORMITORY, ORPHANAGE. NIGHT. 62 All the children are asleep apart from Jamal who is crouched underneath a couple of wash-basins. (CONTINUED) 40. 62 CONTINUED: 62 He is talking through a plate-sized hole in the crumbling masonry. Latika's eyes can be seen. JAMAL ...weddings, government things, big parties. If Maman says my voice is ready. Big money. LATIKA Enough for a room? JAMAL Easily. Maybe an apartment. LATIKA Really? JAMAL That's what Arvind said. On Harbour Road. You, me and Salim. The three musketeers. LATIKA Harbour Road! We can have ice cream from Babanji's. JAMAL Every day if we want. Salim appears at the door. Nods his head at Jamal. JAMAL (CONT'D) It's my turn. LATIKA Good luck, Jamal. Latika's hand comes through the gap. Jamal takes it for a moment. Salim hisses at Jamal. He lets go of the hand and heads out. 63 EXT. PATH. NIGHT. 63 Salim and Jamal walk along the path, Jamal humming happily. Salim checks behind him, sees Punnoose following. JAMAL So, this is it, hey, bhai? The good life, here we come.... SALIM (conversationally) Athos. Jamal is suddenly alert. Slows (CONTINUED) 41. 63 CONTINUED: 63 JAMAL Porthos? Salim nods. Big smile. Puts a hand on Jamal's shoulder. SALIM When I say. 64 INT. SHACK. NIGHT. 64 Salim guides Jamal into the shack where Maman and the Villager are waiting. Maman smiles. Punnoose slips in behind Salim. MAMAN Jamal, hello. You have done well. It's time for you to- turn professional. JAMAL Really? MAMAN Sing me a song, yaar. How about Chalo Ri Murali, huh? My favourite. Jamal opens his mouth, then closes it again. Holds out his hand. JAMAL Fifty rupees. MAMAN What? JAMAL (shrugs) I've turned professional. What can I do? Maman laughs. MAMAN Sala...! He throws some notes at him. 65 EXT. SHACK. NIGHT. 65 Outside, a giggle. Latika is peering through a gap in the wall. 42. 66 INT. SHACK. NIGHT. 66 Jamal begins to sing. Maman waits a while, then nods to Punnoose. Behind Jamal, Punnoose hands Salim the bottle of chloroform and the rag. Salim approaches the back of Jamal. Salim waits until he has finished the song. Raises his hand with the rag in it. Maman smiles, nods. Salim flings the contents of the bottle in Punnoose's face. Punnoose screams and stumbles back clutching his eyes, knocking over the table. SALIM Go! Salim and Jamal scramble for the door. The knocked-over candle catches the spilled chloroform and a curtain which whooshes up in flame. LATIKA Jamal! JAMAL Run! 66A EXT. SHACK. NIGHT. 66A They charge past the prone Arvind- a flash of bloodied bandages covering his eyes. 67 EXT. HILLSIDE. NIGHT. 67 Heavy, desperate breathing. Feet stumble on roots. Fall into holes. The three children are running. Branches smack into their faces. But they are so scared, nothing will stop them. Behind them, torches scour the undergrowth. Men shouting. They break out of the woods and are confronted with a train goods yard. 68 EXT. GOODS YARD. NIGHT. 68 They run over the tracks, between the trains, but the shouts are getting louder, the torches closer. A diesel engine is moving out of the station. Jamal, Latika and Salim sprint for the Guard's Van at the very back of the moving train. Punnoose is closest to them. Salim is fastest and first to jump the train. He holds out his hand. Jamal grabs it and is hauled in. Jamal holds his hand out to Latika. JAMAL Come on! Faster! She reaches out to him. Their hands almost touch. (CONTINUED) 43. 68 CONTINUED: 68 JAMAL (CONT'D) Take it! Take it! I can't reach... Salim barges Jamal out of the way. Jamal stumbles back as Salim reaches his hand out to Latika, so he doesn't see Latika's hand grasp Salim's, nor see their eyes lock onto each other, nor see Salim very deliberately let go of her hand. Latika stumbles. LATIKA Jamal! Jamal scrambles to the rail. The train gains more speed. Jamal climbs on to the top rung, makes to jump, but Salim flings him backward. Jamal tries to scramble to his feet again, but Salim restrains him. JAMAL Got to go back. We've got to go back. SALIM He'll kill us if we go back. Jamal! He was going to take your eyes out- with a bloody spoon! The train is speeding along. Jamal breaks free and stares back at Latika. SALIM (CONT'D) She'll be alright. She always is. Latika stumbles again and stops running. They watch as Punnoose catches up with her and stops running. He smashes Latika to the ground. 69 INT. STUDIO. NIGHT. 69 PREM The question was, for two hundred and fifty thousand rupees: who wrote the famous song Chalo Ri Murali. I should warn you, Jamal: from this question on, if you get the answer wrong you lose everything. So. Are you sure? The life-lines are there.... JAMAL Surdas. PREM Surdas. Apka final jawab? (CONTINUED) 44. 69 CONTINUED: 69 JAMAL Yes. PREM Computer-ji, A lock kiya-jaye. The lights dim, the music swells. Prem presses a button on his computer: looks him straight in the eyes for an age. PREM (CONT'D) (simply) Guess what? You're right. Applause, music, lights. 70 INT. INSPECTOR'S OFFICE. DAY. 70 The Inspector is eying Jamal, weighing it all up. JAMAL (shrugging) Blind singers earn double. You know that. INSPECTOR And what happened to the girl? They blinded her too? JAMAL (shakes his head) They had other plans. Though it took me a long, long time to find out. 71 EXT. TRAIN. MORNING. 71 Salim and Jamal are sitting on top of the train. Jamal is staring blankly down the track. SALIM Ar , Jamal... Salim puts an arm around Jamal's shoulder. Jamal wipes the tears from his eyes, shakes his head furiously. Salim gets up. Holds out his hand. SALIM (CONT'D) Come. JAMAL Where you going? SALIM First class, bhai. Where else? 45.

shirt

How many times the word 'shirt' appears in the text?

to a colleague. Puts out his cigarette with purpose. JAMAL Let's go, bhai. Salim and Jamal run. The girl follows. 22. 33 EXT. MUMBAI. EVENING. 33 Salim and Jamal stand on a hill overlooking the city. Black smoke billows from a large area that is clearly the Juhu slum. Standing a little way off is the girl. JAMAL We should go back. Silence. JAMAL (CONT'D) See if Ama- Salim shakes his head fiercely, silencing Jamal for a moment. But only a moment. JAMAL (CONT'D) What about Jeevan Chacha? Salim shakes his head. JAMAL (CONT'D) Maybe he- Salim shakes his head again. SALIM - I saw him. He was with them. JAMAL But he wouldn't hurt- SALIM - he was with them! JAMAL But- SALIM - shut up, Jamal, can't you? Just shut up! Salim turns away and sees the girl. Picks up a rock and hurls it at her. She dodges, takes a couple of steps back but makes no real attempt to get away. He finds another rock and hurls this in her direction too. SALIM (CONT'D) Ja! Then a flash of lightning and thunder rumbles across the city. Rain begins to come down. JAMAL What shall we do? (CONTINUED) 23. 33 CONTINUED: 33 No answer. Jamal sits down. Salim sits down. At a distance, the girl sits down. Rain pours down their faces. 34 INT. BUILDER'S YARD. NIGHT. 34 Rain as you've never seen. A pile of huge water pipes in a sprawling builder's yard. Jamal is in one pipe, Salim above him in another. They are both soaked, shivering, but have found some plastic sheet to wrap themselves in. Outside, thirty feet away, stands the girl. Staring. Salim hisses angrily at the girl. SALIM Go away. Ja, ja! The girl might not even have heard. SALIM (CONT'D) She'll have the Security Guard onto us, standing there. JAMAL Not if we let her in. SALIM No. JAMAL She could be the third musketeer. SALIM I am the head of this family, now. And I say no. Piss off, you. Salim huddles down in the pipe. After a while, Jamal follows suit. SALIM (CONT'D) We don't even know what the third musketeer's called. 35 EXT. JUHU SLUM. DAY 35 A flash of Jamal's mother being clubbed to the ground. Her scream. 36 INT. BUILDER'S YARD. LATER. 36 Jamal wakes with a jolt and a scream half-swallowed in his mouth. He shuts his eyes tight, trying to force the image out. His breathing slows and he sees the girl staring at him. Salim, too, is staring into nothing. The rain is still falling. (CONTINUED) 24. 36 CONTINUED: 36 The girl goes back to drawing shapes in the mud with her finger. Jamal climbs out of the pipe. Looks at Salim for permission or refusal, but he just continues to stare. So, Jamal walks across to her. She looks up, wary. JAMAL Where's your Mother? Silence. JAMAL (CONT'D) Father? The girl shakes her head slightly. Jamal takes the plastic sheet from around his shoulders. Gives it to her. JAMAL (CONT'D) I'm Jamal. He's Salim. LATIKA Latika. Jamal goes back to his water pipe, climbs in. Watches her huddled under the sheet. Sighs, motions for her to join him. She darts across, jumps into the water pipe and huddles up next to Jamal. 37 INT. INSPECTOR'S OFFICE. DAY. 37 Jamal looks at the Inspector. JAMAL I wake up every morning wishing I didn't know the answer to that question? If it wasn't for Ram and Allah, I would still have a Mother. 38 INT. STUDIO. NIGHT 38 JAMAL D) A bow and arrow. PREM Final answer? JAMAL Final answer. Prem stares at him for dramatic effect. Presses his computer. PREM Computer-ji, D lock kiya-jaye. (CONTINUED) 25. 38 CONTINUED: 38 The lights dim, the music swells. PREM (CONT'D) Jamal Malik, you answered D? Ram is depicted with a bow and arrow in his hand. And guess what? You've just won sixteen thousand rupees! Well done, my friend. Time for a commercial break- don't go away, now. Music, applause. Prem switches off his professional smile. Gets up. PREM (CONT'D) Got lucky, huh? I'd take the money. You'll never get the next one. JAMAL You're from the Juhu slum, aren't you? PREM Hmm? Sure. Know where I live now, kid? Pali Hill. Twelve bedrooms, a/c in every room, two kitchens, a gym and a screening room. Steel balls is what it takes, my friend, steel balls. The Floor Manager comes over and gives his head-phones set to Prem. Prem listens. DIRECTOR V/O Prem? Tone it down, for goodness sake. You're making him a laughing stock. Prem glances up at the gallery with contempt. PREM We're having fun here. They love it...Where the hell do you get them from? He makes no attempt to hide the conversation from Jamal. DIRECTOR V/O It's supposed to be a quiz show, not a blood sport. FLOOR MANAGER Two minutes. (CONTINUED) 26. 38 CONTINUED: (2) 38 PREM Stop wetting your pants. I'll be a good little boy with the next one. Promise. He chucks the head-phones back at the Floor Manager. Glances in the wings. Sees Nita, the make-up woman. Gets up and goes over. 39 INT. STUDIO. BACKSTAGE. NIGHT. 39 In the half-light, backstage, Nita dabs his face with powder. PREM Meet me after the show. Please. NITA No. PREM Nita, I can explain. NITA No need. I read it in bloody Stardust. Didn't even have the balls to tell me. "Prem's happiness with another baby on the way". After everything you said... PREM Baby, it all happened before I met you. I swear to you. NITA She's got the gestation period of an elephant, then. Prem is about to object. But instead, he laughs. PREM You see? Amidst all this misery, only you can make me laugh. Scornful but hints of melting. NITA All this misery... PREM Her and I- nothing. You have to believe me, baby... Nita turns away. The Floor Manager comes over. FLOOR MANAGER One minute. (CONTINUED) 27. 39 CONTINUED: 39 Prem slings himself in a chair. PREM No. I'm not going on. NITA Prem... PREM I can't. Without you, it's all pointless. Clicks his fingers at the Floor Manager. PREM (CONT'D) You. Tell the Director. Nita shakes her head at the Floor Manager who by now is looking very worried. FLOOR MANAGER Thirty seconds. Prem shrugs and folds his arms. Sees her weaken. NITA Prem... PREM Calypso Bar, private room, just you and me? FLOOR MANAGER Fifteen. NITA (furious) Alright. He grins, jumps up, blows her a kiss, and stalks back on stage. 40 INT. STUDIO. NIGHT. 40 He sits back down, says almost to himself. PREM Steel balls. Turns to Jamal. PREM (CONT'D) Okay, Juhu boy, you've had a good run. Take your Mother to Khandala and eat some chiki. JAMAL My Mother's dead. (CONTINUED) 28. 40 CONTINUED: 40 PREM Well, your girlfriend then. Even better. JAMAL I don't have a girl-friend. PREM Live wire like you? You surprise me. FLOOR MANAGER Five, four... The warm-up man starts the applause. TALKBACK V/O ....three, two, one... Cheering and music. Prem switches on his charm. PREM Welcome back to Who Wants to be a Millionaire! Our contestant, Jamal Malik, Call Centre Assistant- from Mumbai, is on sixteen thousand rupees and has already used one lifeline: Ask the Audience. So, my friend: are you ready for the next question? JAMAL Yes. PREM Then, let's play. Portentous music. The lights dim. PREM (CONT'D) For sixty-four thousand rupees. The British architect Frederick Stevens designed which famous building in India? Is it: A) The Taj Mahal. B) Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus. C) India Gate. D) Howrah Bridge. What do you think, Jamal? Are you one of those tea-boys with a penchant for architecture? 41 INT. CHHATRAPATI SHIVAJI TERMINUS. DAY. 41 Known to everyone as VT station, this monument to Victorian railway architecture is a dangerous place to be at rush hour. (CONTINUED) 29. 41 CONTINUED: 41 Even before the train has stopped, men are jumping from the open doors, or vaulting out of the windows or from the roof of the train to join the tens of thousands of Mumbaites streaming to and from work. A seventeen-year old Jamal squeezes himself out of a train and shoves through the crowds. He checks the time. The digital numerals flick to five O'clock. Looks around the tide of humanity. 42 INT. STUDIO. NIGHT. 42 PREM So, what's it to be? Walk away and this cheque for sixteen thousand rupees is yours. Look, it's even got your name on it. He produces a cheque and waves it at Jamal. JAMAL I don't have a bank account. Laughter from the audience. Prem is momentarily wrong- footed. JAMAL (CONT'D) But I'll take cash. More laughter, this time with Jamal, rather than at him. Prem gets up and starts rummaging theatrically through his jacket pockets and trousers. PREM Nope. Looks like the Producer's stolen my wallet again- JAMAL - I'll play. Nobody was expecting this. Least of all Prem who has to rearrange his features into one of surprised delight. He sits down. PREM You'll play? JAMAL Why not? PREM Well, well, well. We've got a wild one, here. Prem tears up the cheque with theatrical slowness. (CONTINUED) 30. 42 CONTINUED: 42 PREM (CONT'D) For sixty-four thousand rupees, Ladies and Gentlemen, the question once again.... 43 INT. CHHATRAPATI SHIVAJI TERMINUS. DAY. 43 The digital clocks show five fifteen. Shoving the descending river of people out of his way, the eighteen year-old Jamal is forging a path up steps that cross the platforms. He pushes to the middle of the footbridge and leans out on the side railings. He scans the sea of people, desperately. Then he sees her: the eighteen year-old Latika, heart-stoppingly beautiful, over the other side of the station. A world away. She is scanning the crowd, as wired as he is. JAMAL Latika! Latika! But though he is screaming her name, his voice is swallowed by the noise around him. Then he sees two thuggish-looking men also fighting a way towards her. JAMAL (CONT'D) Latika! Frightened now, he fights his way down the steps, one figure against an army of white-robed people. JAMAL (CONT'D) Latika! JAMAL V/O Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus. PREM V/O Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus. Sure? JAMAL V/O I think so. PREM V/O You think so. A brave man, Ladies and Gentlemen, a brave man. 44 INT. CHHATRAPATI SHIVAJI TERMINUS. DAY. 44 The commuters have mostly gone. Jamal is pacing the platform desperately. He stops, stares blankly at the statue in front of him- a proud, rather pompous figure in a Victorian frock coat. The plaque reads: Frederick Stevens. 31. 45 INT. INSPECTOR'S OFFICE. NIGHT. 45 The Inspector, Srinivas and Jamal are staring at the video recorder. JAMAL Yes. Final answer. Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus. PREM Is the right answer! Sixty-four thousand rupees to you, Sir! Applause and music. The Inspector presses pause. Stares at Jamal. INSPECTOR And did she come back? Jamal smiles sadly. JAMAL I wouldn't be here if she had. INSPECTOR Pretty was she? Jamal stares down at his feet. INSPECTOR (CONT'D) Guess not. Right in the eyes. JAMAL The most beautiful woman in the world. Constable Srinivas snorts. Suddenly, Jamal is out of his chair and at Srinivas' throat. The combined force of the Inspector and Srinivas force him roughly back down. He is again handcuffed to the chair. INSPECTOR OF POLICE Well, well. The slum dog barks. Money or women. The reason for most mistakes in life. Looks like you got mixed up with both. Srinivas, you need the exercise: a trip to VT Station to check on the statue. And lock your bloody bike up. Constable Srinivas swears under his breath but bumbles out. (CONTINUED) 32. 45 CONTINUED: 45 INSPECTOR That's the chutiy out the way. Now, man to man. How did you know all the answers? JAMAL If I knew, I'd tell you. 46 OMITTED 46 47 OMITTED 47 48 INT. STUDIO. NIGHT. 48 PREM Now we're into the serious money. For two hundred and fifty thousand rupees, ladies and gentlemen, a quarter of a million rupees...the song Chalo Ri Murali was written by which famous Indian poet. Was it A) Surdas. B) Tulsidas. C) Mira Bai. D) Kabir. Remember you still have two lifelines- fifty- fifty and Phone A Friend. Tempted to use one? JAMAL No. PREM No? JAMAL I know this one. PREM Oh. I see. An expert on the poets, huh? The lights dim, the music swells and Prem presses his computer. 49 EXT. MUMBAI STREET. NIGHT. 49 Jamal is studying a piece of paper and reading out numbers from it. There is something not quite right about Jamal- perhaps the fact that there are two feet by his ears. Salim is standing on his shoulders and spraying the numbers on a wall with an aerosol and a certain lack of confidence. (CONTINUED) 33. 49 CONTINUED: 49 JAMAL Four, nine, zero, nine- the one with the stick going down, Salim- six- stick going up- Latika's head appears from around the corner. LATIKA (whispered) Oi! But they don't hear. Then she is running for her life past the pair of them. JAMAL Six, one, shit, let's go- Salim collapses off Jamal's shoulders and all three run off down an alley past a dozen of the gang's sprayed-on adverts all reading: "Beanbags- 989 4909661". A fat Security Guard with a long stick huffs round the corner. Chases them up an alley. Nowhere to go except through an imposing gate that clearly leads to a private house. SECURITY GUARD Got you now, little shits. 50 EXT. GARDEN. NIGHT. 50 They charge across the lawn, down one side of the house where all the washing is hanging. The Guard gets caught up in drying sheets, towels. He fights his way through to see Salim, Latika and Jamal leaping over the wall to safety. But Jamal turns, jumps back and grabs a girl's dress from the line. SECURITY GUARD Aha! Little thief! The Security Guard lands a couple of blows on Jamal's back as he dodges around him and back across the lawn, dress in hand. The Security Guard gives up. SECURITY GUARD (CONT'D) Pervert! 51 INT. ALLEY. NIGHT. 51 Jamal is examing the bruises on his legs. SALIM Useless bloody look-out. What good is she, huh? (CONTINUED) 34. 51 CONTINUED: 51 LATIKA (infuriated) I tried to warn you. JAMAL It's okay, Salim. Latika slips on the dress. Spins. Both of them look up. Stare. She pulls her hair back, smiles, is transformed into a beautiful girl. 52 EXT. GORAI BEACH DUMPING GROUND. DAY. 52 Blazing sun. Diggers and trucks are shifting mounds of rubble on a rubbish dump that seems to stretch for ever. Oblivious to the dust kicked up by the trucks, Latika is picking up old plastic bags, examining each one and putting the less worn in a big sack. The dress is recognisable but dusty and torn. She stoops to dig another bag out of the dirt, but stops and stares. Shimmering in the heat, a rickety pick-up truck comes through the rubbish dump gates. Toots at the Guard who waves, pulls up in the dump. "Hope Orphanage is written on the side of the van. A man gets out. Looks around. 53 INT. `TENT'. DAY. 53 Under sheets of plastic propped up on sticks, Jamal and Salim are sleeping out the hottest part of the day. Jamal wakes to see a figure standing over him- a silhouette with a halo of sun behind him. Out of his bag, the man produces a bottle of Thumbs Up. He uncaps it with an alluring hiss. It is almost an advert for thirst-quenching affluence. Almost instinctively, Salim and Jamal stir. MAN Hello. He hands the bottle to Salim, gets another from his bag and waves it questioningly at Jamal. MAN (CONT'D) Hot, huh? My name is Maman. 54 EXT. ORPHANAGE. EVENING. 54 The hills on the edge of Bombay. Greenery and space, for the first time in the film. The pick-up truck pulls up outside a building with Jamal, Salim and Latika sitting on a bench in the back. Maman gets out. Drops the gate on the back of the pick-up. MAMAN Anyone hungry? Come on in. 35. 55 INT. ORPHANAGE COURTYARD. EVENING. 55 Twenty children are eating at long benches in a ramshackle courtyard. Maman, ushers Jamal, Salim and Latika in and sits them down at one of the benches. He waves a hand and a giant man, Punnoose, comes over with a big bowl of food. The three tear into it. Cleaning every last morsel of rice from his plate, Jamal looks up and notices a table peopled entirely with blind or crippled children. Some of the legless are eating on the floor next to the table. Jamal leans over to Salim. JAMAL He must be a very good man to look after these people. SALIM (glancing at them) A saint. Arvind, a boy smaller than either Jamal or Salim overhears. ARVIND We're not allowed to talk to them. LATIKA Why not? Arvind shrugs. Latika licks her plate, glances at Maman who is looking right at them. LATIKA (CONT'D) Well, if there are seconds, Maman is definitely a Saint. As if telepathic, Maman signals to Punnoose and he brings a large bowl of rice and dhal over to them. Latika looks at Jamal and Salim. They burst out laughing. LATIKA (CONT'D) I tell you, Lord Siva is with us. 56 INT. ORPHANAGE. EVENING. 56 Salim, Latika, Jamal and a group of children are standing in a line singing a doha- ancient lyrics set to music. Maman is leading the singing, walking up and down the line listening to each one individually. He stops at one small boy, Arvind, and listens. Nods his head, pleased, and continues down the line until he stops in front of Jamal. Holds up his hand. MAMAN Stop! You. Again. (CONTINUED) 36. 56 CONTINUED: 56 Jamal starts singing again. He has the sweetest of voices. Untrained but pure. Maman smiles, ruffles Jamal's hair, impressed. MAMAN (CONT'D) Everyone. They all join in. Maman continues down the line. He stops at Salim whose octave-slipping singing is lusty and appallingly out of tune. Maman winces and moves on. Standing next to Salim, Latika giggles. Immediately, Salim is on her. Before a fight breaks out, Punnoose pulls Salim off Latika and hurls him across the room. Salim gets up and charges at Punnoose. For a second, Punnoose is back-footed, but then pins Salim's arms to his side. Maman laughs. Approaches Salim. MAMAN (CONT'D) You sing like one, and you fight like one. I think you've found your dog, Punnoose. 57 EXT. CENTRAL MUMBAI TRAFFIC. DAY. 57 A group of children are sitting in the jumble of concrete under a motorway flyover. Cars surround them, bumper to bumper. Latika and Jamal are playing an improvised hopscotch on concrete slabs. They are giggling, bumping into each other, tickling, laughing. Salim and Punnoose are sitting together, smoking. Salim is staring hard at Jamal and Latika until Punnoose grunts, a sign for Salim to clap his hands. SALIM Okay, let's go, let's go! It's not a bloody holiday! The children get to their feet. Latika sighs, puts a patch over her eye and grabs a pair of crutches. Suddenly, the lame beggar. Salim goes over to one of the girls, who is carrying a sleeping baby. Puts out his hand. SALIM (CONT'D) Give me that. The girl shakes her head. Salim grabs her by the hair in one hand and takes the baby with the other. He shoves her to the ground. The other children stare. JAMAL Hey, Salim! He challenges Jamal. SALIM What, chot bhai? You got a problem? (CONTINUED) 37. 57 CONTINUED: 57 He laughs and walks over to Latika. SALIM (CONT'D) Here. For you. LATIKA I don't want it. SALIM You'll earn double. I'm doing you a favour, Latika. JAMAL She doesn't want it. SALIM Chup, Jamal. Latika turns away and begins to walk towards the cars. SALIM (CONT'D) I'll drop it. He holds the baby up. Latika grabs the baby with a cry just as Salim releases it from his hands. Salim pinches the baby. SALIM (CONT'D) Triple if it's crying. Latika snatches it away. Salim laughs, goes back to sitting with Punnoose. The children scatter to the cars trapped at the lights, tapping plaintively on the windows and making the universal begging gesture. 58 INT. ORPHANAGE. KITCHEN. NIGHT. 58 Surrounded by beer bottles, Punnoose is slumped asleep by the kitchen door. Latika edges past, avoids the cook sleeping under the table and goes to a shelf laden with vegetables. She pulls down a bunch of chillies still on the vine, strips a few off and tip-toes out with them. 59 INT. ORPHANAGE. DORMITORY. NIGHT. 59 Sleeping children, three or four to a mattress on the floor. Latika tip-toes around the mattresses. She pauses over one in particular where we see Salim, asleep. She carefully pulls up the sheet, delves underneath. Pleasant dreams cross Salim's sleeping face for a second. Then suddenly, he is bolt upright and screaming. He charges around the room clutching his genitals in agony. SALIM Madher chod...! (CONTINUED) 38. 59 CONTINUED: 59 He sprints out of the room, wailing. 60 INT. ORPHANAGE. SHOWERS. NIGHT. 60 The lights are on and two dozen children are screaming with laughter as Salim stands under the make-shift shower directing the water down his pants to his burning genitals, his face a picture of agony. Latika wipes crushed chillies from her hands. SALIM You're dead, sala. She smiles and walks past Jamal with a shrug. Then Punnoose comes stalking in and the children scatter away. PUNNOOSE Get back to bed, dogs! What the hell... JAMAL V/O They taught me every song in the history of Indian music. INSPECTOR V/O And why would they do that, I wonder? 61 INT. SHACK. NIGHT. 61 In a shack, Arvind is singing one of Surdas' bhajans in front of Maman and an old man who by his ragged appearance must be a villager. Punnoose and Salim sit behind Arvind. MAMAN Very good, very good. I am pleased, Arvind. He is ready. ARVIND Ready? Maman nods to Punnoose. Before Arvind can turn round, Punnoose has covered his mouth with a cloth and after the briefest of struggles, Arvind's body goes limp. The villager puts an old tin box on the table. Taking the lid from the tin, he brings out a cloth and unwraps it. Inside is a spoon. He checks the edge with his thumb. Sharp. Douses it with a clear liquid from a bottle and passes it over a candle flame. The spoon whooshes with a high flame for a moment. The villager wipes it with the cloth nods to Punnoose. PUNNOOSE Salim! (CONTINUED) 39. 61 CONTINUED: 61 Utterly bemused, Salim nevertheless helps Punnoose lay Arvind on the table. The villager takes hold of Arvind's eyelid and pulls it open. He brings the spoon close. Suddenly, Salim is being sick in the corner of the shack. By the time he has turned back, the villager is wiping the spoon on a blood-soaked rag. MAMAN Okay. Take him out the back. Punnoose picks up Arvind and carries him out. MAMAN (CONT'D) Now the other one. Salim, go get Jamal. A frozen moment. SALIM What? MAMAN Gunfighter Number One, isn't that right, Salim? The money, the women, the cars...you want them bad, huh? And why not? Maman gets out of his chair. Approaches Salim. MAMAN (CONT'D) The time has come to choose, yaar. The life of a slum dog or the life of a man. A real man. A gunfighter, Salim. Maman holds Salim's head in his hands. MAMAN (CONT'D) Your destiny is in your hands, bhai. You can be me. Or nobody. Understand? SALIM Yes, Maman. Maman nods. MAMAN So, brother, go get Jamal. Salim is frozen for another few seconds, then turns and walks out of the door. Punnoose appears at the door. Maman nods to him and he slips off after Salim. 62 INT. DORMITORY, ORPHANAGE. NIGHT. 62 All the children are asleep apart from Jamal who is crouched underneath a couple of wash-basins. (CONTINUED) 40. 62 CONTINUED: 62 He is talking through a plate-sized hole in the crumbling masonry. Latika's eyes can be seen. JAMAL ...weddings, government things, big parties. If Maman says my voice is ready. Big money. LATIKA Enough for a room? JAMAL Easily. Maybe an apartment. LATIKA Really? JAMAL That's what Arvind said. On Harbour Road. You, me and Salim. The three musketeers. LATIKA Harbour Road! We can have ice cream from Babanji's. JAMAL Every day if we want. Salim appears at the door. Nods his head at Jamal. JAMAL (CONT'D) It's my turn. LATIKA Good luck, Jamal. Latika's hand comes through the gap. Jamal takes it for a moment. Salim hisses at Jamal. He lets go of the hand and heads out. 63 EXT. PATH. NIGHT. 63 Salim and Jamal walk along the path, Jamal humming happily. Salim checks behind him, sees Punnoose following. JAMAL So, this is it, hey, bhai? The good life, here we come.... SALIM (conversationally) Athos. Jamal is suddenly alert. Slows (CONTINUED) 41. 63 CONTINUED: 63 JAMAL Porthos? Salim nods. Big smile. Puts a hand on Jamal's shoulder. SALIM When I say. 64 INT. SHACK. NIGHT. 64 Salim guides Jamal into the shack where Maman and the Villager are waiting. Maman smiles. Punnoose slips in behind Salim. MAMAN Jamal, hello. You have done well. It's time for you to- turn professional. JAMAL Really? MAMAN Sing me a song, yaar. How about Chalo Ri Murali, huh? My favourite. Jamal opens his mouth, then closes it again. Holds out his hand. JAMAL Fifty rupees. MAMAN What? JAMAL (shrugs) I've turned professional. What can I do? Maman laughs. MAMAN Sala...! He throws some notes at him. 65 EXT. SHACK. NIGHT. 65 Outside, a giggle. Latika is peering through a gap in the wall. 42. 66 INT. SHACK. NIGHT. 66 Jamal begins to sing. Maman waits a while, then nods to Punnoose. Behind Jamal, Punnoose hands Salim the bottle of chloroform and the rag. Salim approaches the back of Jamal. Salim waits until he has finished the song. Raises his hand with the rag in it. Maman smiles, nods. Salim flings the contents of the bottle in Punnoose's face. Punnoose screams and stumbles back clutching his eyes, knocking over the table. SALIM Go! Salim and Jamal scramble for the door. The knocked-over candle catches the spilled chloroform and a curtain which whooshes up in flame. LATIKA Jamal! JAMAL Run! 66A EXT. SHACK. NIGHT. 66A They charge past the prone Arvind- a flash of bloodied bandages covering his eyes. 67 EXT. HILLSIDE. NIGHT. 67 Heavy, desperate breathing. Feet stumble on roots. Fall into holes. The three children are running. Branches smack into their faces. But they are so scared, nothing will stop them. Behind them, torches scour the undergrowth. Men shouting. They break out of the woods and are confronted with a train goods yard. 68 EXT. GOODS YARD. NIGHT. 68 They run over the tracks, between the trains, but the shouts are getting louder, the torches closer. A diesel engine is moving out of the station. Jamal, Latika and Salim sprint for the Guard's Van at the very back of the moving train. Punnoose is closest to them. Salim is fastest and first to jump the train. He holds out his hand. Jamal grabs it and is hauled in. Jamal holds his hand out to Latika. JAMAL Come on! Faster! She reaches out to him. Their hands almost touch. (CONTINUED) 43. 68 CONTINUED: 68 JAMAL (CONT'D) Take it! Take it! I can't reach... Salim barges Jamal out of the way. Jamal stumbles back as Salim reaches his hand out to Latika, so he doesn't see Latika's hand grasp Salim's, nor see their eyes lock onto each other, nor see Salim very deliberately let go of her hand. Latika stumbles. LATIKA Jamal! Jamal scrambles to the rail. The train gains more speed. Jamal climbs on to the top rung, makes to jump, but Salim flings him backward. Jamal tries to scramble to his feet again, but Salim restrains him. JAMAL Got to go back. We've got to go back. SALIM He'll kill us if we go back. Jamal! He was going to take your eyes out- with a bloody spoon! The train is speeding along. Jamal breaks free and stares back at Latika. SALIM (CONT'D) She'll be alright. She always is. Latika stumbles again and stops running. They watch as Punnoose catches up with her and stops running. He smashes Latika to the ground. 69 INT. STUDIO. NIGHT. 69 PREM The question was, for two hundred and fifty thousand rupees: who wrote the famous song Chalo Ri Murali. I should warn you, Jamal: from this question on, if you get the answer wrong you lose everything. So. Are you sure? The life-lines are there.... JAMAL Surdas. PREM Surdas. Apka final jawab? (CONTINUED) 44. 69 CONTINUED: 69 JAMAL Yes. PREM Computer-ji, A lock kiya-jaye. The lights dim, the music swells. Prem presses a button on his computer: looks him straight in the eyes for an age. PREM (CONT'D) (simply) Guess what? You're right. Applause, music, lights. 70 INT. INSPECTOR'S OFFICE. DAY. 70 The Inspector is eying Jamal, weighing it all up. JAMAL (shrugging) Blind singers earn double. You know that. INSPECTOR And what happened to the girl? They blinded her too? JAMAL (shakes his head) They had other plans. Though it took me a long, long time to find out. 71 EXT. TRAIN. MORNING. 71 Salim and Jamal are sitting on top of the train. Jamal is staring blankly down the track. SALIM Ar , Jamal... Salim puts an arm around Jamal's shoulder. Jamal wipes the tears from his eyes, shakes his head furiously. Salim gets up. Holds out his hand. SALIM (CONT'D) Come. JAMAL Where you going? SALIM First class, bhai. Where else? 45.

station

How many times the word 'station' appears in the text?

to a colleague. Puts out his cigarette with purpose. JAMAL Let's go, bhai. Salim and Jamal run. The girl follows. 22. 33 EXT. MUMBAI. EVENING. 33 Salim and Jamal stand on a hill overlooking the city. Black smoke billows from a large area that is clearly the Juhu slum. Standing a little way off is the girl. JAMAL We should go back. Silence. JAMAL (CONT'D) See if Ama- Salim shakes his head fiercely, silencing Jamal for a moment. But only a moment. JAMAL (CONT'D) What about Jeevan Chacha? Salim shakes his head. JAMAL (CONT'D) Maybe he- Salim shakes his head again. SALIM - I saw him. He was with them. JAMAL But he wouldn't hurt- SALIM - he was with them! JAMAL But- SALIM - shut up, Jamal, can't you? Just shut up! Salim turns away and sees the girl. Picks up a rock and hurls it at her. She dodges, takes a couple of steps back but makes no real attempt to get away. He finds another rock and hurls this in her direction too. SALIM (CONT'D) Ja! Then a flash of lightning and thunder rumbles across the city. Rain begins to come down. JAMAL What shall we do? (CONTINUED) 23. 33 CONTINUED: 33 No answer. Jamal sits down. Salim sits down. At a distance, the girl sits down. Rain pours down their faces. 34 INT. BUILDER'S YARD. NIGHT. 34 Rain as you've never seen. A pile of huge water pipes in a sprawling builder's yard. Jamal is in one pipe, Salim above him in another. They are both soaked, shivering, but have found some plastic sheet to wrap themselves in. Outside, thirty feet away, stands the girl. Staring. Salim hisses angrily at the girl. SALIM Go away. Ja, ja! The girl might not even have heard. SALIM (CONT'D) She'll have the Security Guard onto us, standing there. JAMAL Not if we let her in. SALIM No. JAMAL She could be the third musketeer. SALIM I am the head of this family, now. And I say no. Piss off, you. Salim huddles down in the pipe. After a while, Jamal follows suit. SALIM (CONT'D) We don't even know what the third musketeer's called. 35 EXT. JUHU SLUM. DAY 35 A flash of Jamal's mother being clubbed to the ground. Her scream. 36 INT. BUILDER'S YARD. LATER. 36 Jamal wakes with a jolt and a scream half-swallowed in his mouth. He shuts his eyes tight, trying to force the image out. His breathing slows and he sees the girl staring at him. Salim, too, is staring into nothing. The rain is still falling. (CONTINUED) 24. 36 CONTINUED: 36 The girl goes back to drawing shapes in the mud with her finger. Jamal climbs out of the pipe. Looks at Salim for permission or refusal, but he just continues to stare. So, Jamal walks across to her. She looks up, wary. JAMAL Where's your Mother? Silence. JAMAL (CONT'D) Father? The girl shakes her head slightly. Jamal takes the plastic sheet from around his shoulders. Gives it to her. JAMAL (CONT'D) I'm Jamal. He's Salim. LATIKA Latika. Jamal goes back to his water pipe, climbs in. Watches her huddled under the sheet. Sighs, motions for her to join him. She darts across, jumps into the water pipe and huddles up next to Jamal. 37 INT. INSPECTOR'S OFFICE. DAY. 37 Jamal looks at the Inspector. JAMAL I wake up every morning wishing I didn't know the answer to that question? If it wasn't for Ram and Allah, I would still have a Mother. 38 INT. STUDIO. NIGHT 38 JAMAL D) A bow and arrow. PREM Final answer? JAMAL Final answer. Prem stares at him for dramatic effect. Presses his computer. PREM Computer-ji, D lock kiya-jaye. (CONTINUED) 25. 38 CONTINUED: 38 The lights dim, the music swells. PREM (CONT'D) Jamal Malik, you answered D? Ram is depicted with a bow and arrow in his hand. And guess what? You've just won sixteen thousand rupees! Well done, my friend. Time for a commercial break- don't go away, now. Music, applause. Prem switches off his professional smile. Gets up. PREM (CONT'D) Got lucky, huh? I'd take the money. You'll never get the next one. JAMAL You're from the Juhu slum, aren't you? PREM Hmm? Sure. Know where I live now, kid? Pali Hill. Twelve bedrooms, a/c in every room, two kitchens, a gym and a screening room. Steel balls is what it takes, my friend, steel balls. The Floor Manager comes over and gives his head-phones set to Prem. Prem listens. DIRECTOR V/O Prem? Tone it down, for goodness sake. You're making him a laughing stock. Prem glances up at the gallery with contempt. PREM We're having fun here. They love it...Where the hell do you get them from? He makes no attempt to hide the conversation from Jamal. DIRECTOR V/O It's supposed to be a quiz show, not a blood sport. FLOOR MANAGER Two minutes. (CONTINUED) 26. 38 CONTINUED: (2) 38 PREM Stop wetting your pants. I'll be a good little boy with the next one. Promise. He chucks the head-phones back at the Floor Manager. Glances in the wings. Sees Nita, the make-up woman. Gets up and goes over. 39 INT. STUDIO. BACKSTAGE. NIGHT. 39 In the half-light, backstage, Nita dabs his face with powder. PREM Meet me after the show. Please. NITA No. PREM Nita, I can explain. NITA No need. I read it in bloody Stardust. Didn't even have the balls to tell me. "Prem's happiness with another baby on the way". After everything you said... PREM Baby, it all happened before I met you. I swear to you. NITA She's got the gestation period of an elephant, then. Prem is about to object. But instead, he laughs. PREM You see? Amidst all this misery, only you can make me laugh. Scornful but hints of melting. NITA All this misery... PREM Her and I- nothing. You have to believe me, baby... Nita turns away. The Floor Manager comes over. FLOOR MANAGER One minute. (CONTINUED) 27. 39 CONTINUED: 39 Prem slings himself in a chair. PREM No. I'm not going on. NITA Prem... PREM I can't. Without you, it's all pointless. Clicks his fingers at the Floor Manager. PREM (CONT'D) You. Tell the Director. Nita shakes her head at the Floor Manager who by now is looking very worried. FLOOR MANAGER Thirty seconds. Prem shrugs and folds his arms. Sees her weaken. NITA Prem... PREM Calypso Bar, private room, just you and me? FLOOR MANAGER Fifteen. NITA (furious) Alright. He grins, jumps up, blows her a kiss, and stalks back on stage. 40 INT. STUDIO. NIGHT. 40 He sits back down, says almost to himself. PREM Steel balls. Turns to Jamal. PREM (CONT'D) Okay, Juhu boy, you've had a good run. Take your Mother to Khandala and eat some chiki. JAMAL My Mother's dead. (CONTINUED) 28. 40 CONTINUED: 40 PREM Well, your girlfriend then. Even better. JAMAL I don't have a girl-friend. PREM Live wire like you? You surprise me. FLOOR MANAGER Five, four... The warm-up man starts the applause. TALKBACK V/O ....three, two, one... Cheering and music. Prem switches on his charm. PREM Welcome back to Who Wants to be a Millionaire! Our contestant, Jamal Malik, Call Centre Assistant- from Mumbai, is on sixteen thousand rupees and has already used one lifeline: Ask the Audience. So, my friend: are you ready for the next question? JAMAL Yes. PREM Then, let's play. Portentous music. The lights dim. PREM (CONT'D) For sixty-four thousand rupees. The British architect Frederick Stevens designed which famous building in India? Is it: A) The Taj Mahal. B) Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus. C) India Gate. D) Howrah Bridge. What do you think, Jamal? Are you one of those tea-boys with a penchant for architecture? 41 INT. CHHATRAPATI SHIVAJI TERMINUS. DAY. 41 Known to everyone as VT station, this monument to Victorian railway architecture is a dangerous place to be at rush hour. (CONTINUED) 29. 41 CONTINUED: 41 Even before the train has stopped, men are jumping from the open doors, or vaulting out of the windows or from the roof of the train to join the tens of thousands of Mumbaites streaming to and from work. A seventeen-year old Jamal squeezes himself out of a train and shoves through the crowds. He checks the time. The digital numerals flick to five O'clock. Looks around the tide of humanity. 42 INT. STUDIO. NIGHT. 42 PREM So, what's it to be? Walk away and this cheque for sixteen thousand rupees is yours. Look, it's even got your name on it. He produces a cheque and waves it at Jamal. JAMAL I don't have a bank account. Laughter from the audience. Prem is momentarily wrong- footed. JAMAL (CONT'D) But I'll take cash. More laughter, this time with Jamal, rather than at him. Prem gets up and starts rummaging theatrically through his jacket pockets and trousers. PREM Nope. Looks like the Producer's stolen my wallet again- JAMAL - I'll play. Nobody was expecting this. Least of all Prem who has to rearrange his features into one of surprised delight. He sits down. PREM You'll play? JAMAL Why not? PREM Well, well, well. We've got a wild one, here. Prem tears up the cheque with theatrical slowness. (CONTINUED) 30. 42 CONTINUED: 42 PREM (CONT'D) For sixty-four thousand rupees, Ladies and Gentlemen, the question once again.... 43 INT. CHHATRAPATI SHIVAJI TERMINUS. DAY. 43 The digital clocks show five fifteen. Shoving the descending river of people out of his way, the eighteen year-old Jamal is forging a path up steps that cross the platforms. He pushes to the middle of the footbridge and leans out on the side railings. He scans the sea of people, desperately. Then he sees her: the eighteen year-old Latika, heart-stoppingly beautiful, over the other side of the station. A world away. She is scanning the crowd, as wired as he is. JAMAL Latika! Latika! But though he is screaming her name, his voice is swallowed by the noise around him. Then he sees two thuggish-looking men also fighting a way towards her. JAMAL (CONT'D) Latika! Frightened now, he fights his way down the steps, one figure against an army of white-robed people. JAMAL (CONT'D) Latika! JAMAL V/O Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus. PREM V/O Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus. Sure? JAMAL V/O I think so. PREM V/O You think so. A brave man, Ladies and Gentlemen, a brave man. 44 INT. CHHATRAPATI SHIVAJI TERMINUS. DAY. 44 The commuters have mostly gone. Jamal is pacing the platform desperately. He stops, stares blankly at the statue in front of him- a proud, rather pompous figure in a Victorian frock coat. The plaque reads: Frederick Stevens. 31. 45 INT. INSPECTOR'S OFFICE. NIGHT. 45 The Inspector, Srinivas and Jamal are staring at the video recorder. JAMAL Yes. Final answer. Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus. PREM Is the right answer! Sixty-four thousand rupees to you, Sir! Applause and music. The Inspector presses pause. Stares at Jamal. INSPECTOR And did she come back? Jamal smiles sadly. JAMAL I wouldn't be here if she had. INSPECTOR Pretty was she? Jamal stares down at his feet. INSPECTOR (CONT'D) Guess not. Right in the eyes. JAMAL The most beautiful woman in the world. Constable Srinivas snorts. Suddenly, Jamal is out of his chair and at Srinivas' throat. The combined force of the Inspector and Srinivas force him roughly back down. He is again handcuffed to the chair. INSPECTOR OF POLICE Well, well. The slum dog barks. Money or women. The reason for most mistakes in life. Looks like you got mixed up with both. Srinivas, you need the exercise: a trip to VT Station to check on the statue. And lock your bloody bike up. Constable Srinivas swears under his breath but bumbles out. (CONTINUED) 32. 45 CONTINUED: 45 INSPECTOR That's the chutiy out the way. Now, man to man. How did you know all the answers? JAMAL If I knew, I'd tell you. 46 OMITTED 46 47 OMITTED 47 48 INT. STUDIO. NIGHT. 48 PREM Now we're into the serious money. For two hundred and fifty thousand rupees, ladies and gentlemen, a quarter of a million rupees...the song Chalo Ri Murali was written by which famous Indian poet. Was it A) Surdas. B) Tulsidas. C) Mira Bai. D) Kabir. Remember you still have two lifelines- fifty- fifty and Phone A Friend. Tempted to use one? JAMAL No. PREM No? JAMAL I know this one. PREM Oh. I see. An expert on the poets, huh? The lights dim, the music swells and Prem presses his computer. 49 EXT. MUMBAI STREET. NIGHT. 49 Jamal is studying a piece of paper and reading out numbers from it. There is something not quite right about Jamal- perhaps the fact that there are two feet by his ears. Salim is standing on his shoulders and spraying the numbers on a wall with an aerosol and a certain lack of confidence. (CONTINUED) 33. 49 CONTINUED: 49 JAMAL Four, nine, zero, nine- the one with the stick going down, Salim- six- stick going up- Latika's head appears from around the corner. LATIKA (whispered) Oi! But they don't hear. Then she is running for her life past the pair of them. JAMAL Six, one, shit, let's go- Salim collapses off Jamal's shoulders and all three run off down an alley past a dozen of the gang's sprayed-on adverts all reading: "Beanbags- 989 4909661". A fat Security Guard with a long stick huffs round the corner. Chases them up an alley. Nowhere to go except through an imposing gate that clearly leads to a private house. SECURITY GUARD Got you now, little shits. 50 EXT. GARDEN. NIGHT. 50 They charge across the lawn, down one side of the house where all the washing is hanging. The Guard gets caught up in drying sheets, towels. He fights his way through to see Salim, Latika and Jamal leaping over the wall to safety. But Jamal turns, jumps back and grabs a girl's dress from the line. SECURITY GUARD Aha! Little thief! The Security Guard lands a couple of blows on Jamal's back as he dodges around him and back across the lawn, dress in hand. The Security Guard gives up. SECURITY GUARD (CONT'D) Pervert! 51 INT. ALLEY. NIGHT. 51 Jamal is examing the bruises on his legs. SALIM Useless bloody look-out. What good is she, huh? (CONTINUED) 34. 51 CONTINUED: 51 LATIKA (infuriated) I tried to warn you. JAMAL It's okay, Salim. Latika slips on the dress. Spins. Both of them look up. Stare. She pulls her hair back, smiles, is transformed into a beautiful girl. 52 EXT. GORAI BEACH DUMPING GROUND. DAY. 52 Blazing sun. Diggers and trucks are shifting mounds of rubble on a rubbish dump that seems to stretch for ever. Oblivious to the dust kicked up by the trucks, Latika is picking up old plastic bags, examining each one and putting the less worn in a big sack. The dress is recognisable but dusty and torn. She stoops to dig another bag out of the dirt, but stops and stares. Shimmering in the heat, a rickety pick-up truck comes through the rubbish dump gates. Toots at the Guard who waves, pulls up in the dump. "Hope Orphanage is written on the side of the van. A man gets out. Looks around. 53 INT. `TENT'. DAY. 53 Under sheets of plastic propped up on sticks, Jamal and Salim are sleeping out the hottest part of the day. Jamal wakes to see a figure standing over him- a silhouette with a halo of sun behind him. Out of his bag, the man produces a bottle of Thumbs Up. He uncaps it with an alluring hiss. It is almost an advert for thirst-quenching affluence. Almost instinctively, Salim and Jamal stir. MAN Hello. He hands the bottle to Salim, gets another from his bag and waves it questioningly at Jamal. MAN (CONT'D) Hot, huh? My name is Maman. 54 EXT. ORPHANAGE. EVENING. 54 The hills on the edge of Bombay. Greenery and space, for the first time in the film. The pick-up truck pulls up outside a building with Jamal, Salim and Latika sitting on a bench in the back. Maman gets out. Drops the gate on the back of the pick-up. MAMAN Anyone hungry? Come on in. 35. 55 INT. ORPHANAGE COURTYARD. EVENING. 55 Twenty children are eating at long benches in a ramshackle courtyard. Maman, ushers Jamal, Salim and Latika in and sits them down at one of the benches. He waves a hand and a giant man, Punnoose, comes over with a big bowl of food. The three tear into it. Cleaning every last morsel of rice from his plate, Jamal looks up and notices a table peopled entirely with blind or crippled children. Some of the legless are eating on the floor next to the table. Jamal leans over to Salim. JAMAL He must be a very good man to look after these people. SALIM (glancing at them) A saint. Arvind, a boy smaller than either Jamal or Salim overhears. ARVIND We're not allowed to talk to them. LATIKA Why not? Arvind shrugs. Latika licks her plate, glances at Maman who is looking right at them. LATIKA (CONT'D) Well, if there are seconds, Maman is definitely a Saint. As if telepathic, Maman signals to Punnoose and he brings a large bowl of rice and dhal over to them. Latika looks at Jamal and Salim. They burst out laughing. LATIKA (CONT'D) I tell you, Lord Siva is with us. 56 INT. ORPHANAGE. EVENING. 56 Salim, Latika, Jamal and a group of children are standing in a line singing a doha- ancient lyrics set to music. Maman is leading the singing, walking up and down the line listening to each one individually. He stops at one small boy, Arvind, and listens. Nods his head, pleased, and continues down the line until he stops in front of Jamal. Holds up his hand. MAMAN Stop! You. Again. (CONTINUED) 36. 56 CONTINUED: 56 Jamal starts singing again. He has the sweetest of voices. Untrained but pure. Maman smiles, ruffles Jamal's hair, impressed. MAMAN (CONT'D) Everyone. They all join in. Maman continues down the line. He stops at Salim whose octave-slipping singing is lusty and appallingly out of tune. Maman winces and moves on. Standing next to Salim, Latika giggles. Immediately, Salim is on her. Before a fight breaks out, Punnoose pulls Salim off Latika and hurls him across the room. Salim gets up and charges at Punnoose. For a second, Punnoose is back-footed, but then pins Salim's arms to his side. Maman laughs. Approaches Salim. MAMAN (CONT'D) You sing like one, and you fight like one. I think you've found your dog, Punnoose. 57 EXT. CENTRAL MUMBAI TRAFFIC. DAY. 57 A group of children are sitting in the jumble of concrete under a motorway flyover. Cars surround them, bumper to bumper. Latika and Jamal are playing an improvised hopscotch on concrete slabs. They are giggling, bumping into each other, tickling, laughing. Salim and Punnoose are sitting together, smoking. Salim is staring hard at Jamal and Latika until Punnoose grunts, a sign for Salim to clap his hands. SALIM Okay, let's go, let's go! It's not a bloody holiday! The children get to their feet. Latika sighs, puts a patch over her eye and grabs a pair of crutches. Suddenly, the lame beggar. Salim goes over to one of the girls, who is carrying a sleeping baby. Puts out his hand. SALIM (CONT'D) Give me that. The girl shakes her head. Salim grabs her by the hair in one hand and takes the baby with the other. He shoves her to the ground. The other children stare. JAMAL Hey, Salim! He challenges Jamal. SALIM What, chot bhai? You got a problem? (CONTINUED) 37. 57 CONTINUED: 57 He laughs and walks over to Latika. SALIM (CONT'D) Here. For you. LATIKA I don't want it. SALIM You'll earn double. I'm doing you a favour, Latika. JAMAL She doesn't want it. SALIM Chup, Jamal. Latika turns away and begins to walk towards the cars. SALIM (CONT'D) I'll drop it. He holds the baby up. Latika grabs the baby with a cry just as Salim releases it from his hands. Salim pinches the baby. SALIM (CONT'D) Triple if it's crying. Latika snatches it away. Salim laughs, goes back to sitting with Punnoose. The children scatter to the cars trapped at the lights, tapping plaintively on the windows and making the universal begging gesture. 58 INT. ORPHANAGE. KITCHEN. NIGHT. 58 Surrounded by beer bottles, Punnoose is slumped asleep by the kitchen door. Latika edges past, avoids the cook sleeping under the table and goes to a shelf laden with vegetables. She pulls down a bunch of chillies still on the vine, strips a few off and tip-toes out with them. 59 INT. ORPHANAGE. DORMITORY. NIGHT. 59 Sleeping children, three or four to a mattress on the floor. Latika tip-toes around the mattresses. She pauses over one in particular where we see Salim, asleep. She carefully pulls up the sheet, delves underneath. Pleasant dreams cross Salim's sleeping face for a second. Then suddenly, he is bolt upright and screaming. He charges around the room clutching his genitals in agony. SALIM Madher chod...! (CONTINUED) 38. 59 CONTINUED: 59 He sprints out of the room, wailing. 60 INT. ORPHANAGE. SHOWERS. NIGHT. 60 The lights are on and two dozen children are screaming with laughter as Salim stands under the make-shift shower directing the water down his pants to his burning genitals, his face a picture of agony. Latika wipes crushed chillies from her hands. SALIM You're dead, sala. She smiles and walks past Jamal with a shrug. Then Punnoose comes stalking in and the children scatter away. PUNNOOSE Get back to bed, dogs! What the hell... JAMAL V/O They taught me every song in the history of Indian music. INSPECTOR V/O And why would they do that, I wonder? 61 INT. SHACK. NIGHT. 61 In a shack, Arvind is singing one of Surdas' bhajans in front of Maman and an old man who by his ragged appearance must be a villager. Punnoose and Salim sit behind Arvind. MAMAN Very good, very good. I am pleased, Arvind. He is ready. ARVIND Ready? Maman nods to Punnoose. Before Arvind can turn round, Punnoose has covered his mouth with a cloth and after the briefest of struggles, Arvind's body goes limp. The villager puts an old tin box on the table. Taking the lid from the tin, he brings out a cloth and unwraps it. Inside is a spoon. He checks the edge with his thumb. Sharp. Douses it with a clear liquid from a bottle and passes it over a candle flame. The spoon whooshes with a high flame for a moment. The villager wipes it with the cloth nods to Punnoose. PUNNOOSE Salim! (CONTINUED) 39. 61 CONTINUED: 61 Utterly bemused, Salim nevertheless helps Punnoose lay Arvind on the table. The villager takes hold of Arvind's eyelid and pulls it open. He brings the spoon close. Suddenly, Salim is being sick in the corner of the shack. By the time he has turned back, the villager is wiping the spoon on a blood-soaked rag. MAMAN Okay. Take him out the back. Punnoose picks up Arvind and carries him out. MAMAN (CONT'D) Now the other one. Salim, go get Jamal. A frozen moment. SALIM What? MAMAN Gunfighter Number One, isn't that right, Salim? The money, the women, the cars...you want them bad, huh? And why not? Maman gets out of his chair. Approaches Salim. MAMAN (CONT'D) The time has come to choose, yaar. The life of a slum dog or the life of a man. A real man. A gunfighter, Salim. Maman holds Salim's head in his hands. MAMAN (CONT'D) Your destiny is in your hands, bhai. You can be me. Or nobody. Understand? SALIM Yes, Maman. Maman nods. MAMAN So, brother, go get Jamal. Salim is frozen for another few seconds, then turns and walks out of the door. Punnoose appears at the door. Maman nods to him and he slips off after Salim. 62 INT. DORMITORY, ORPHANAGE. NIGHT. 62 All the children are asleep apart from Jamal who is crouched underneath a couple of wash-basins. (CONTINUED) 40. 62 CONTINUED: 62 He is talking through a plate-sized hole in the crumbling masonry. Latika's eyes can be seen. JAMAL ...weddings, government things, big parties. If Maman says my voice is ready. Big money. LATIKA Enough for a room? JAMAL Easily. Maybe an apartment. LATIKA Really? JAMAL That's what Arvind said. On Harbour Road. You, me and Salim. The three musketeers. LATIKA Harbour Road! We can have ice cream from Babanji's. JAMAL Every day if we want. Salim appears at the door. Nods his head at Jamal. JAMAL (CONT'D) It's my turn. LATIKA Good luck, Jamal. Latika's hand comes through the gap. Jamal takes it for a moment. Salim hisses at Jamal. He lets go of the hand and heads out. 63 EXT. PATH. NIGHT. 63 Salim and Jamal walk along the path, Jamal humming happily. Salim checks behind him, sees Punnoose following. JAMAL So, this is it, hey, bhai? The good life, here we come.... SALIM (conversationally) Athos. Jamal is suddenly alert. Slows (CONTINUED) 41. 63 CONTINUED: 63 JAMAL Porthos? Salim nods. Big smile. Puts a hand on Jamal's shoulder. SALIM When I say. 64 INT. SHACK. NIGHT. 64 Salim guides Jamal into the shack where Maman and the Villager are waiting. Maman smiles. Punnoose slips in behind Salim. MAMAN Jamal, hello. You have done well. It's time for you to- turn professional. JAMAL Really? MAMAN Sing me a song, yaar. How about Chalo Ri Murali, huh? My favourite. Jamal opens his mouth, then closes it again. Holds out his hand. JAMAL Fifty rupees. MAMAN What? JAMAL (shrugs) I've turned professional. What can I do? Maman laughs. MAMAN Sala...! He throws some notes at him. 65 EXT. SHACK. NIGHT. 65 Outside, a giggle. Latika is peering through a gap in the wall. 42. 66 INT. SHACK. NIGHT. 66 Jamal begins to sing. Maman waits a while, then nods to Punnoose. Behind Jamal, Punnoose hands Salim the bottle of chloroform and the rag. Salim approaches the back of Jamal. Salim waits until he has finished the song. Raises his hand with the rag in it. Maman smiles, nods. Salim flings the contents of the bottle in Punnoose's face. Punnoose screams and stumbles back clutching his eyes, knocking over the table. SALIM Go! Salim and Jamal scramble for the door. The knocked-over candle catches the spilled chloroform and a curtain which whooshes up in flame. LATIKA Jamal! JAMAL Run! 66A EXT. SHACK. NIGHT. 66A They charge past the prone Arvind- a flash of bloodied bandages covering his eyes. 67 EXT. HILLSIDE. NIGHT. 67 Heavy, desperate breathing. Feet stumble on roots. Fall into holes. The three children are running. Branches smack into their faces. But they are so scared, nothing will stop them. Behind them, torches scour the undergrowth. Men shouting. They break out of the woods and are confronted with a train goods yard. 68 EXT. GOODS YARD. NIGHT. 68 They run over the tracks, between the trains, but the shouts are getting louder, the torches closer. A diesel engine is moving out of the station. Jamal, Latika and Salim sprint for the Guard's Van at the very back of the moving train. Punnoose is closest to them. Salim is fastest and first to jump the train. He holds out his hand. Jamal grabs it and is hauled in. Jamal holds his hand out to Latika. JAMAL Come on! Faster! She reaches out to him. Their hands almost touch. (CONTINUED) 43. 68 CONTINUED: 68 JAMAL (CONT'D) Take it! Take it! I can't reach... Salim barges Jamal out of the way. Jamal stumbles back as Salim reaches his hand out to Latika, so he doesn't see Latika's hand grasp Salim's, nor see their eyes lock onto each other, nor see Salim very deliberately let go of her hand. Latika stumbles. LATIKA Jamal! Jamal scrambles to the rail. The train gains more speed. Jamal climbs on to the top rung, makes to jump, but Salim flings him backward. Jamal tries to scramble to his feet again, but Salim restrains him. JAMAL Got to go back. We've got to go back. SALIM He'll kill us if we go back. Jamal! He was going to take your eyes out- with a bloody spoon! The train is speeding along. Jamal breaks free and stares back at Latika. SALIM (CONT'D) She'll be alright. She always is. Latika stumbles again and stops running. They watch as Punnoose catches up with her and stops running. He smashes Latika to the ground. 69 INT. STUDIO. NIGHT. 69 PREM The question was, for two hundred and fifty thousand rupees: who wrote the famous song Chalo Ri Murali. I should warn you, Jamal: from this question on, if you get the answer wrong you lose everything. So. Are you sure? The life-lines are there.... JAMAL Surdas. PREM Surdas. Apka final jawab? (CONTINUED) 44. 69 CONTINUED: 69 JAMAL Yes. PREM Computer-ji, A lock kiya-jaye. The lights dim, the music swells. Prem presses a button on his computer: looks him straight in the eyes for an age. PREM (CONT'D) (simply) Guess what? You're right. Applause, music, lights. 70 INT. INSPECTOR'S OFFICE. DAY. 70 The Inspector is eying Jamal, weighing it all up. JAMAL (shrugging) Blind singers earn double. You know that. INSPECTOR And what happened to the girl? They blinded her too? JAMAL (shakes his head) They had other plans. Though it took me a long, long time to find out. 71 EXT. TRAIN. MORNING. 71 Salim and Jamal are sitting on top of the train. Jamal is staring blankly down the track. SALIM Ar , Jamal... Salim puts an arm around Jamal's shoulder. Jamal wipes the tears from his eyes, shakes his head furiously. Salim gets up. Holds out his hand. SALIM (CONT'D) Come. JAMAL Where you going? SALIM First class, bhai. Where else? 45.

recorder

How many times the word 'recorder' appears in the text?

to ask the important question. She dropped to her knees, facing the flowers, and extended both her arms pleadingly toward them. "Tell me, pretty cousins," she said in her sweet, gentle voice, "which way will lead us to the Kingdom of Ruggedo, the Nome King?" At once all the stems bent gracefully to the right and the flower heads nodded once--twice--thrice in that direction. "That's it!" cried Files joyfully. "Now we know the way." Ozga rose to her feet and looked wonderingly at the field-flowers, which had now resumed their upright position. "Was it the wind, do you think?" she asked in a low whisper. "No, indeed," replied Files. "There is not a breath of wind stirring. But these lovely blossoms are indeed your cousins and answered your question at once, as I knew they would." [Illustration] CHAPTER 9 Ruggedo's Rage is Rash and Reckless The way taken by the adventurers led up hill and down dale and wound here and there in a fashion that seemed aimless. But always it drew nearer to a range of low mountains and Files said more than once that he was certain the entrance to Ruggedo's cavern would be found among these rugged hills. In this he was quite correct. Far underneath the nearest mountain was a gorgeous chamber hollowed from the solid rock, the walls and roof of which glittered with thousands of magnificent jewels. Here, on a throne of virgin gold, sat the famous Nome King, dressed in splendid robes and wearing a superb crown cut from a single blood-red ruby. Ruggedo, the Monarch of all the Metals and Precious Stones of the Underground World, was a round little man with a flowing white beard, a red face, bright eyes and a scowl that covered all his forehead. One would think, to look at him, that he ought to be jolly; one might think, considering his enormous wealth, that he ought to be happy; but this was not the case. The Metal Monarch was surly and cross because mortals had dug so much treasure out of the earth and kept it above ground, where all the power of Ruggedo and his nomes was unable to recover it. He hated not only the mortals but also the fairies who live upon the earth or above it, and instead of being content with the riches he still possessed he was unhappy because he did not own all the gold and jewels in the world. Ruggedo had been nodding, half asleep, in his chair when suddenly he sat upright uttered a roar of rage and began pounding upon a huge gong that stood beside him. The sound filled the vast cavern and penetrated to many caverns beyond, where countless thousands of nomes were working at their unending tasks, hammering out gold and silver and other metals, or melting ores in great furnaces, or polishing glittering gems. The nomes trembled at the sound of the King's gong and whispered fearfully to one another that something unpleasant was sure to happen; but none dared pause in his task. The heavy curtains of cloth-of-gold were pushed aside and Kaliko, the King's High Chamberlain, entered the royal presence. "What's up, Your Majesty?" he asked, with a wide yawn, for he had just wakened. "Up?" roared Ruggedo, stamping his foot viciously. "Those foolish mortals are up, that's what! And they want to come down." "Down here?" inquired Kaliko. "Yes!" "How do you know?" continued the Chamberlain, yawning again. "I feel it in my bones," said Ruggedo. "I can always feel it when those hateful earth-crawlers draw near to my Kingdom. I am positive, Kaliko, that mortals are this very minute on their way here to annoy me--and I hate mortals more than I do catnip tea!" "Well, what's to be done?" demanded the nome. "Look through your spyglass, and see where the invaders are," commanded the King. So Kaliko went to a tube in the wall of rock and put his eye to it. The tube ran from the cavern up to the side of the mountain and turned several curves and corners, but as it was a magic spyglass Kaliko was able to see through it just as easily as if it had been straight. "Ho--hum," said he. "I see 'em, Your Majesty." "What do they look like?" inquired the Monarch. "That's a hard question to answer, for a queerer assortment of creatures I never yet beheld," replied the nome. "However, such a collection of curiosities may prove dangerous. There's a copper man, worked by machinery--" "Bah! that's only Tik-Tok," said Ruggedo. "I'm not afraid of him. Why, only the other day I met the fellow and threw him down a well." "Then some one must have pulled him out again," said Kaliko. "And there's a little girl--" "Dorothy?" asked Ruggedo, jumping up in fear. "No; some other girl. In fact, there are several girls, of various sizes; but Dorothy is not with them, nor is Ozma." "That's good!" exclaimed the King, sighing in relief. Kaliko still had his eye to the spyglass. "I see," said he, "an army of men from Oogaboo. They are all officers and carry swords. And there is a Shaggy Man--who seems very harmless--and a little donkey with big ears." "Pooh!" cried Ruggedo, snapping his fingers in scorn. "I've no fear of such a mob as that. A dozen of my nomes can destroy them all in a jiffy." "I'm not so sure of that," said Kaliko. "The people of Oogaboo are hard to destroy, and I believe the Rose Princess is a fairy. As for Polychrome, you know very well that the Rainbow's Daughter cannot be injured by a nome." "Polychrome! Is she among them?" asked the King. "Yes; I have just recognized her." "Then these people are coming here on no peaceful errand," declared Ruggedo, scowling fiercely. "In fact, no one ever comes here on a peaceful errand. I hate everybody, and everybody hates me!" "Very true," said Kaliko. "I must in some way prevent these people from reaching my dominions. Where are they now?" "Just now they are crossing the Rubber Country, Your Majesty." "Good! Are your magnetic rubber wires in working order?" "I think so," replied Kaliko. "Is it your Royal Will that we have some fun with these invaders?" "It is," answered Ruggedo. "I want to teach them a lesson they will never forget." Now, Shaggy had no idea that he was in a Rubber Country, nor had any of his companions. They noticed that everything around them was of a dull gray color and that the path upon which they walked was soft and springy, yet they had no suspicion that the rocks and trees were rubber and even the path they trod was made of rubber. Presently they came to a brook where sparkling water dashed through a deep channel and rushed away between high rocks far down the mountain-side. Across the brook were stepping-stones, so placed that travelers might easily leap from one to another and in that manner cross the water to the farther bank. Tik-Tok was marching ahead, followed by his officers and Queen Ann. After them came Betsy Bobbin and Hank, Polychrome and Shaggy, and last of all the Rose Princess with Files. The Clockwork Man saw the stream and the stepping-stones and, without making a pause, placed his foot upon the first stone. The result was astonishing. First he sank down in the soft rubber, which then rebounded and sent Tik-Tok soaring high in the air, where he turned a succession of flip-flops and alighted upon a rubber rock far in the rear of the party. General Apple did not see Tik-Tok bound, so quickly had he disappeared; therefore he also stepped upon the stone (which you will guess was connected with Kaliko's magnetic rubber wire) and instantly shot upward like an arrow. General Cone came next and met with a like fate, but the others now noticed that something was wrong and with one accord they halted the column and looked back along the path. There was Tik-Tok, still bounding from one rubber rock to another, each time rising a less distance from the ground. And there was General Apple, bounding away in another direction, his three-cornered hat jammed over his eyes and his long sword thumping him upon the arms and head as it swung this way and that. And there, also, appeared General Cone, who had struck a rubber rock headforemost and was so crumpled up that his round body looked more like a bouncing-ball than the form of a man. Betsy laughed merrily at the strange sight and Polychrome echoed her laughter. But Ozga was grave and wondering, while Queen Ann became angry at seeing the chief officers of the Army of Oogaboo bounding around in so undignified a manner. She shouted to them to stop, but they were unable to obey, even though they would have been glad to do so. Finally, however, they all ceased bounding and managed to get upon their feet and rejoin the Army. "Why did you do that?" demanded Ann, who seemed greatly provoked. "Don't ask them why," said Shaggy earnestly. "I knew you would ask them why, but you ought not to do it. The reason is plain. Those stones are rubber; therefore they are not stones. Those rocks around us are rubber, and therefore they are not rocks. Even this path is not a path; it's rubber. Unless we are very careful, your Majesty, we are all likely to get the bounce, just as your poor officers and Tik-Tok did." [Illustration] "Then let's be careful," remarked Files, who was full of wisdom; but Polychrome wanted to test the quality of the rubber, so she began dancing. Every step sent her higher and higher into the air, so that she resembled a big butterfly fluttering lightly. Presently she made a great bound and bounded way across the stream, landing lightly and steadily on the other side. "There is no rubber over here," she called to them. "Suppose you all try to bound over the stream, without touching the stepping-stones." Ann and her officers were reluctant to undertake such a risky adventure, but Betsy at once grasped the value of the suggestion and began jumping up and down until she found herself bounding almost as high as Polychrome had done. Then she suddenly leaned forward and the next bound took her easily across the brook, where she alighted by the side of the Rainbow's Daughter. "Come on, Hank!" called the girl, and the donkey tried to obey. He managed to bound pretty high but when he tried to bound across the stream he misjudged the distance and fell with a splash into the middle of the water. "Hee-haw!" he wailed, struggling toward the far bank. Betsy rushed forward to help him out, but when the mule stood safely beside her she was amazed to find he was not wet at all. "It's dry water," said Polychrome, dipping her hand into the stream and showing how the water fell from it and left it perfectly dry. "In that case," returned Betsy, "they can all walk through the water." She called to Ozga and Shaggy to wade across, assuring them the water was shallow and would not wet them. At once they followed her advice, avoiding the rubber stepping-stones, and made the crossing with ease. This encouraged the entire party to wade through the dry water, and in a few minutes all had assembled on the bank and renewed their journey along the path that led to the Nome King's dominions. When Kaliko again looked through his magic spyglass he exclaimed: "Bad luck, Your Majesty! All the invaders have passed the Rubber Country and now are fast approaching the entrance to your caverns." Ruggedo raved and stormed at the news and his anger was so great that several times, as he strode up and down his jeweled cavern, he paused to kick Kaliko upon his shins, which were so sensitive that the poor nome howled with pain. Finally the King said: "There's no help for it; we must drop these audacious invaders down the Hollow Tube." Kaliko gave a jump, at this, and looked at his master wonderingly. "If you do that, Your Majesty," he said, "you will make Tititi-Hoochoo very angry." "Never mind that," retorted Ruggedo. "Tititi-Hoochoo lives on the other side of the world, so what do I care for his anger?" Kaliko shuddered and uttered a little groan. "Remember his terrible powers," he pleaded, "and remember that he warned you, the last time you slid people through the Hollow Tube, that if you did it again he would take vengeance upon you." The Metal Monarch walked up and down in silence, thinking deeply. "Of two dangers," said he, "it is wise to choose the least. What do you suppose these invaders want?" "Let the Long-Eared Hearer listen to them," suggested Kaliko. "Call him here at once!" commanded Ruggedo eagerly. So in a few minutes there entered the cavern a nome with enormous ears, who bowed low before the King. "Strangers are approaching," said Ruggedo, "and I wish to know their errand. Listen carefully to their talk and tell me why they are coming here, and what for." The nome bowed again and spread out his great ears, swaying them gently up and down and back and forth. For half an hour he stood silent, in an attitude of listening, while both the King and Kaliko grew impatient at the delay. At last the Long-Eared Hearer spoke: [Illustration] "Shaggy Man is coming here to rescue his brother from captivity," said he. "Ha, the Ugly One!" exclaimed Ruggedo. "Well, Shaggy Man may have his ugly brother, for all I care. He's too lazy to work and is always getting in my way. Where is the Ugly One now, Kaliko?" "The last time Your Majesty stumbled over the prisoner you commanded me to send him to the Metal Forest, which I did. I suppose he is still there." "Very good. The invaders will have a hard time finding the Metal Forest," said the King, with a grin of malicious delight, "for half the time I can't find it myself. Yet I created the forest and made every tree, out of gold and silver, so as to keep the precious metals in a safe place and out of the reach of mortals. But tell me, Hearer, do the strangers want anything else?" "Yes, indeed they do!" returned the nome. "The Army of Oogaboo is determined to capture all the rich metals and rare jewels in your kingdom, and the officers and their Queen have arranged to divide the spoils and carry them away." When he heard this Ruggedo uttered a bellow of rage and began dancing up and down, rolling his eyes, clicking his teeth together and swinging his arms furiously. Then, in an ecstasy of anger he seized the long ears of the Hearer and pulled and twisted them cruelly; but Kaliko grabbed up the King's sceptre and rapped him over the knuckles with it, so that Ruggedo let go the ears and began to chase his Royal Chamberlain around the throne. The Hearer took advantage of this opportunity to slip away from the cavern and escape, and after the King had tired himself out chasing Kaliko he threw himself into his throne and panted for breath, while he glared wickedly at his defiant subject. "You'd better save your strength to fight the enemy," suggested Kaliko. "There will be a terrible battle when the Army of Oogaboo gets here." "The Army won't get here," said the King, still coughing and panting. "I'll drop 'em down the Hollow Tube--every man Jack and every girl Jill of 'em!" "And defy Tititi-Hoochoo?" asked Kaliko. "Yes. Go at once to my Chief Magician and order him to turn the path toward the Hollow Tube, and to make the top of the Tube invisible, so they'll all fall into it." Kaliko went away shaking his head, for he thought Ruggedo was making a great mistake. He found the Magician and had the path twisted so that it led directly to the opening of the Hollow Tube, and this opening he made invisible. Having obeyed the orders of his master, the Royal Chamberlain went to his private room and began to write letters of recommendation of himself, stating that he was an honest man, a good servant and a small eater. "Pretty soon," he said to himself, "I shall have to look for another job, for it is certain that Ruggedo has ruined himself by this reckless defiance of the mighty Tititi-Hoochoo. And in seeking a job nothing is so effective as a letter of recommendation." [Illustration] [Illustration] CHAPTER 10 A Terrible Tumble Through a Tube I suppose that Polychrome, and perhaps Queen Ann and her Army, might have been able to dispel the enchantment of Ruggedo's Chief Magician had they known that danger lay in their pathway; for the Rainbow's Daughter was a fairy and as Oogaboo is a part of the Land of Oz its inhabitants cannot easily be deceived by such common magic as the Nome King could command. But no one suspected any especial danger until after they had entered Ruggedo's cavern, and so they were journeying along in quite a contented manner when Tik-Tok, who marched ahead, suddenly disappeared. The officers thought he must have turned a corner, so they kept on their way and all of them likewise disappeared--one after another. Queen Ann was rather surprised at this, and in hastening forward to learn the reason she also vanished from sight. Betsy Bobbin had tired her feet by walking, so she was now riding upon the back of the stout little mule, facing backward and talking to Shaggy and Polychrome, who were just behind. Suddenly Hank pitched forward and began falling and Betsy would have tumbled over his head had she not grabbed the mule's shaggy neck with both arms and held on for dear life. All around was darkness, and they were not falling directly downward but seemed to be sliding along a steep incline. Hank's hoofs were resting upon some smooth substance over which he slid with the swiftness of the wind. Once Betsy's heels flew up and struck a similar substance overhead. They were, indeed, descending the "Hollow Tube" that led to the other side of the world. "Stop, Hank--stop!" cried the girl; but Hank only uttered a plaintive "Hee-haw!" for it was impossible for him to obey. After several minutes had passed and no harm had befallen them, Betsy gained courage. She could see nothing at all, nor could she hear anything except the rush of air past her ears as they plunged downward along the Tube. Whether she and Hank were alone, or the others were with them, she could not tell. But had some one been able to take a flash-light photograph of the Tube at that time a most curious picture would have resulted. There was Tik-Tok, flat upon his back and sliding headforemost down the incline. And there were the Officers of the Army of Oogaboo, all tangled up in a confused crowd, flapping their arms and trying to shield their faces from the clanking swords, which swung back and forth during the swift journey and pommeled everyone within their reach. Now followed Queen Ann, who had struck the Tube in a sitting position and went flying along with a dash and abandon that thoroughly bewildered the poor lady, who had no idea what had happened to her. Then, a little distance away, but unseen by the others in the inky darkness, slid Betsy and Hank, while behind them were Shaggy and Polychrome and finally Files and the Princess. When first they tumbled into the Tube all were too dazed to think clearly, but the trip was a long one, because the cavity led straight through the earth to a place just opposite the Nome King's dominions, and long before the adventurers got to the end they had begun to recover their wits. "This is awful, Hank!" cried Betsy in a loud voice, and Queen Ann heard her and called out: "Are you safe, Betsy?" "Mercy, no!" answered the little girl. "How could anyone be safe when she's going about sixty miles a minute?" Then, after a pause, she added: "But where do you s'pose we're going to, Your Maj'sty?" "Don't ask her that, please don't!" said Shaggy, who was not too far away to overhear them. "And please don't ask me why, either." "Why?" said Betsy. "No one can tell where we are going until we get there," replied Shaggy, and then he yelled "Ouch!" for Polychrome had overtaken him and was now sitting on his head. The Rainbow's Daughter laughed merrily, and so infectious was this joyous laugh that Betsy echoed it and Hank said "Hee-haw!" in a mild and sympathetic tone of voice. "I'd like to know where and when we'll arrive, just the same," exclaimed the little girl. "Be patient and you'll find out, my dear," said Polychrome. "But isn't this an odd experience? Here am I, whose home is in the skies, making a journey through the center of the earth--where I never expected to be!" "How do you know we're in the center of the earth?" asked Betsy, her voice trembling a little through nervousness. "Why, we can't be anywhere else," replied Polychrome. "I have often heard of this passage, which was once built by a Magician who was a great traveler. He thought it would save him the bother of going around the earth's surface, but he tumbled through the Tube so fast that he shot out at the other end and hit a star in the sky, which at once exploded." "The star exploded?" asked Betsy wonderingly. "Yes; the Magician hit it so hard." "And what became of the Magician?" inquired the girl. "No one knows that," answered Polychrome. "But I don't think it matters much." "It matters a good deal, if we also hit the stars when we come out," said Queen Ann, with a moan. "Don't worry," advised Polychrome. "I believe the Magician was going the other way, and probably he went much faster than we are going." "It's fast enough to suit me," remarked Shaggy, gently removing Polychrome's heel from his left eye. "Couldn't you manage to fall all by yourself, my dear?" "I'll try," laughed the Rainbow's Daughter. All this time they were swiftly falling through the Tube, and it was not so easy for them to talk as you may imagine when you read their words. But although they were so helpless and altogether in the dark as to their fate, the fact that they were able to converse at all cheered them considerably. Files and Ozga were also conversing as they clung tightly to one another, and the young fellow bravely strove to reassure the Princess, although he was terribly frightened, both on her account and on his own. An hour, under such trying circumstances, is a very long time, and for more than an hour they continued their fearful journey. Then, just as they began to fear the Tube would never end, Tik-Tok popped out into broad daylight and, after making a graceful circle in the air, fell with a splash into a great marble fountain. Out came the officers, in quick succession, tumbling heels over head and striking the ground in many undignified attitudes. "For the love of sassafras!" exclaimed a Peculiar Person who was hoeing pink violets in a garden. "What can all this mean?" For answer, Queen Ann sailed up from the Tube, took a ride through the air as high as the treetops, and alighted squarely on top of the Peculiar Person's head, smashing a jeweled crown over his eyes and tumbling him to the ground. The mule was heavier and had Betsy clinging to his back, so he did not go so high up. Fortunately for his little rider he struck the ground upon his four feet. Betsy was jarred a trifle but not hurt and when she looked around her she saw the Queen and the Peculiar Person struggling together upon the ground, where the man was trying to choke Ann and she had both hands in his bushy hair and was pulling with all her might. Some of the officers, when they got upon their feet, hastened to separate the combatants and sought to restrain the Peculiar Person so that he could not attack their Queen again. [Illustration] By this time, Shaggy, Polychrome, Ozga and Files had all arrived and were curiously examining the strange country in which they found themselves and which they knew to be exactly on the opposite side of the world from the place where they had fallen into the Tube. It was a lovely place, indeed, and seemed to be the garden of some great Prince, for through the vistas of trees and shrubbery could be seen the towers of an immense castle. But as yet the only inhabitant to greet them was the Peculiar Person just mentioned, who had shaken off the grasp of the officers without effort and was now trying to pull the battered crown from off his eyes. Shaggy, who was always polite, helped him to do this and when the man was free and could see again he looked at his visitors with evident amazement. "Well, well, well!" he exclaimed. "Where did you come from and how did you get here?" Betsy tried to answer him, for Queen Ann was surly and silent. "I can't say, exac'ly where we came from, 'cause I don't know the name of the place," said the girl, "but the way we got here was through the Hollow Tube." "Don't call it a 'hollow' Tube, please," exclaimed the Peculiar Person in an irritated tone of voice. "If it's a tube, it's sure to be hollow." "Why?" asked Betsy. "Because all tubes are made that way. But this Tube is private property and everyone is forbidden to fall into it." "We didn't do it on purpose," explained Betsy, and Polychrome added: "I am quite sure that Ruggedo, the Nome King, pushed us down that Tube." "Ha! Ruggedo! Did you say Ruggedo?" cried the man, becoming much excited. "That is what she said," replied Shaggy, "and I believe she is right. We were on our way to conquer the Nome King when suddenly we fell into the Tube." "Then you are enemies of Ruggedo?" inquired the Peculiar Person. "Not exac'ly enemies," said Betsy, a little puzzled by the question, "'cause we don't know him at all; but we started out to conquer him, which isn't as friendly as it might be." "True," agreed the man. He looked thoughtfully from one to another of them for a while and then he turned his head over his shoulder and said: "Never mind the fire and pincers, my good brothers. It will be best to take these strangers to the Private Citizen." "Very well, Tubekins," responded a Voice, deep and powerful, that seemed to come out of the air, for the speaker was invisible. All our friends gave a jump, at this. Even Polychrome was so startled that her gauze draperies fluttered like a banner in a breeze. Shaggy shook his head and sighed; Queen Ann looked very unhappy; the officers clung to each other, trembling violently. But soon they gained courage to look more closely at the Peculiar Person. As he was a type of all the inhabitants of this extraordinary land whom they afterward met, I will try to tell you what he looked like. His face was beautiful, but lacked expression. His eyes were large and blue in color and his teeth finely formed and white as snow. His hair was black and bushy and seemed inclined to curl at the ends. So far no one could find any fault with his appearance. He wore a robe of scarlet, which did not cover his arms and extended no lower than his bare knees. On the bosom of the robe was embroidered a terrible dragon's head, as horrible to look at as the man was beautiful. His arms and legs were left bare and the skin of one arm was bright yellow and the skin of the other arm a vivid green. He had one blue leg and one pink one, while both his feet--which showed through the open sandals he wore--were jet black. Betsy could not decide whether these gorgeous colors were dyes or the natural tints of the skin, but while she was thinking it over the man who had been called "Tubekins" said: "Follow me to the Residence--all of you!" But just then a Voice exclaimed: "Here's another of them, Tubekins, lying in the water of the fountain." [Illustration] "Gracious!" cried Betsy; "it must be Tik-Tok, and he'll drown." "Water is a bad thing for his clockworks, anyhow," agreed Shaggy, as with one accord they all started for the fountain. But before they could reach it, invisible hands raised Tik-Tok from the marble basin and set him upon his feet beside it, water dripping from every joint of his copper body. "Ma--ny tha--tha--tha--thanks!" he said; and then his copper jaws clicked together and he could say no more. He next made an attempt to walk but after several awkward trials found he could not move his joints. Peals of jeering laughter from persons unseen greeted Tik-Tok's failure, and the new arrivals in this strange land found it very uncomfortable to realize that there were many creatures around them who were invisible, yet could be heard plainly. "Shall I wind him up?" asked Betsy, feeling very sorry for Tik-Tok. "I think his machinery is wound; but he needs oiling," replied Shaggy. At once an oil-can appeared before him, held on a level with his eyes by some unseen hand.

fact

How many times the word 'fact' appears in the text?

to ask the important question. She dropped to her knees, facing the flowers, and extended both her arms pleadingly toward them. "Tell me, pretty cousins," she said in her sweet, gentle voice, "which way will lead us to the Kingdom of Ruggedo, the Nome King?" At once all the stems bent gracefully to the right and the flower heads nodded once--twice--thrice in that direction. "That's it!" cried Files joyfully. "Now we know the way." Ozga rose to her feet and looked wonderingly at the field-flowers, which had now resumed their upright position. "Was it the wind, do you think?" she asked in a low whisper. "No, indeed," replied Files. "There is not a breath of wind stirring. But these lovely blossoms are indeed your cousins and answered your question at once, as I knew they would." [Illustration] CHAPTER 9 Ruggedo's Rage is Rash and Reckless The way taken by the adventurers led up hill and down dale and wound here and there in a fashion that seemed aimless. But always it drew nearer to a range of low mountains and Files said more than once that he was certain the entrance to Ruggedo's cavern would be found among these rugged hills. In this he was quite correct. Far underneath the nearest mountain was a gorgeous chamber hollowed from the solid rock, the walls and roof of which glittered with thousands of magnificent jewels. Here, on a throne of virgin gold, sat the famous Nome King, dressed in splendid robes and wearing a superb crown cut from a single blood-red ruby. Ruggedo, the Monarch of all the Metals and Precious Stones of the Underground World, was a round little man with a flowing white beard, a red face, bright eyes and a scowl that covered all his forehead. One would think, to look at him, that he ought to be jolly; one might think, considering his enormous wealth, that he ought to be happy; but this was not the case. The Metal Monarch was surly and cross because mortals had dug so much treasure out of the earth and kept it above ground, where all the power of Ruggedo and his nomes was unable to recover it. He hated not only the mortals but also the fairies who live upon the earth or above it, and instead of being content with the riches he still possessed he was unhappy because he did not own all the gold and jewels in the world. Ruggedo had been nodding, half asleep, in his chair when suddenly he sat upright uttered a roar of rage and began pounding upon a huge gong that stood beside him. The sound filled the vast cavern and penetrated to many caverns beyond, where countless thousands of nomes were working at their unending tasks, hammering out gold and silver and other metals, or melting ores in great furnaces, or polishing glittering gems. The nomes trembled at the sound of the King's gong and whispered fearfully to one another that something unpleasant was sure to happen; but none dared pause in his task. The heavy curtains of cloth-of-gold were pushed aside and Kaliko, the King's High Chamberlain, entered the royal presence. "What's up, Your Majesty?" he asked, with a wide yawn, for he had just wakened. "Up?" roared Ruggedo, stamping his foot viciously. "Those foolish mortals are up, that's what! And they want to come down." "Down here?" inquired Kaliko. "Yes!" "How do you know?" continued the Chamberlain, yawning again. "I feel it in my bones," said Ruggedo. "I can always feel it when those hateful earth-crawlers draw near to my Kingdom. I am positive, Kaliko, that mortals are this very minute on their way here to annoy me--and I hate mortals more than I do catnip tea!" "Well, what's to be done?" demanded the nome. "Look through your spyglass, and see where the invaders are," commanded the King. So Kaliko went to a tube in the wall of rock and put his eye to it. The tube ran from the cavern up to the side of the mountain and turned several curves and corners, but as it was a magic spyglass Kaliko was able to see through it just as easily as if it had been straight. "Ho--hum," said he. "I see 'em, Your Majesty." "What do they look like?" inquired the Monarch. "That's a hard question to answer, for a queerer assortment of creatures I never yet beheld," replied the nome. "However, such a collection of curiosities may prove dangerous. There's a copper man, worked by machinery--" "Bah! that's only Tik-Tok," said Ruggedo. "I'm not afraid of him. Why, only the other day I met the fellow and threw him down a well." "Then some one must have pulled him out again," said Kaliko. "And there's a little girl--" "Dorothy?" asked Ruggedo, jumping up in fear. "No; some other girl. In fact, there are several girls, of various sizes; but Dorothy is not with them, nor is Ozma." "That's good!" exclaimed the King, sighing in relief. Kaliko still had his eye to the spyglass. "I see," said he, "an army of men from Oogaboo. They are all officers and carry swords. And there is a Shaggy Man--who seems very harmless--and a little donkey with big ears." "Pooh!" cried Ruggedo, snapping his fingers in scorn. "I've no fear of such a mob as that. A dozen of my nomes can destroy them all in a jiffy." "I'm not so sure of that," said Kaliko. "The people of Oogaboo are hard to destroy, and I believe the Rose Princess is a fairy. As for Polychrome, you know very well that the Rainbow's Daughter cannot be injured by a nome." "Polychrome! Is she among them?" asked the King. "Yes; I have just recognized her." "Then these people are coming here on no peaceful errand," declared Ruggedo, scowling fiercely. "In fact, no one ever comes here on a peaceful errand. I hate everybody, and everybody hates me!" "Very true," said Kaliko. "I must in some way prevent these people from reaching my dominions. Where are they now?" "Just now they are crossing the Rubber Country, Your Majesty." "Good! Are your magnetic rubber wires in working order?" "I think so," replied Kaliko. "Is it your Royal Will that we have some fun with these invaders?" "It is," answered Ruggedo. "I want to teach them a lesson they will never forget." Now, Shaggy had no idea that he was in a Rubber Country, nor had any of his companions. They noticed that everything around them was of a dull gray color and that the path upon which they walked was soft and springy, yet they had no suspicion that the rocks and trees were rubber and even the path they trod was made of rubber. Presently they came to a brook where sparkling water dashed through a deep channel and rushed away between high rocks far down the mountain-side. Across the brook were stepping-stones, so placed that travelers might easily leap from one to another and in that manner cross the water to the farther bank. Tik-Tok was marching ahead, followed by his officers and Queen Ann. After them came Betsy Bobbin and Hank, Polychrome and Shaggy, and last of all the Rose Princess with Files. The Clockwork Man saw the stream and the stepping-stones and, without making a pause, placed his foot upon the first stone. The result was astonishing. First he sank down in the soft rubber, which then rebounded and sent Tik-Tok soaring high in the air, where he turned a succession of flip-flops and alighted upon a rubber rock far in the rear of the party. General Apple did not see Tik-Tok bound, so quickly had he disappeared; therefore he also stepped upon the stone (which you will guess was connected with Kaliko's magnetic rubber wire) and instantly shot upward like an arrow. General Cone came next and met with a like fate, but the others now noticed that something was wrong and with one accord they halted the column and looked back along the path. There was Tik-Tok, still bounding from one rubber rock to another, each time rising a less distance from the ground. And there was General Apple, bounding away in another direction, his three-cornered hat jammed over his eyes and his long sword thumping him upon the arms and head as it swung this way and that. And there, also, appeared General Cone, who had struck a rubber rock headforemost and was so crumpled up that his round body looked more like a bouncing-ball than the form of a man. Betsy laughed merrily at the strange sight and Polychrome echoed her laughter. But Ozga was grave and wondering, while Queen Ann became angry at seeing the chief officers of the Army of Oogaboo bounding around in so undignified a manner. She shouted to them to stop, but they were unable to obey, even though they would have been glad to do so. Finally, however, they all ceased bounding and managed to get upon their feet and rejoin the Army. "Why did you do that?" demanded Ann, who seemed greatly provoked. "Don't ask them why," said Shaggy earnestly. "I knew you would ask them why, but you ought not to do it. The reason is plain. Those stones are rubber; therefore they are not stones. Those rocks around us are rubber, and therefore they are not rocks. Even this path is not a path; it's rubber. Unless we are very careful, your Majesty, we are all likely to get the bounce, just as your poor officers and Tik-Tok did." [Illustration] "Then let's be careful," remarked Files, who was full of wisdom; but Polychrome wanted to test the quality of the rubber, so she began dancing. Every step sent her higher and higher into the air, so that she resembled a big butterfly fluttering lightly. Presently she made a great bound and bounded way across the stream, landing lightly and steadily on the other side. "There is no rubber over here," she called to them. "Suppose you all try to bound over the stream, without touching the stepping-stones." Ann and her officers were reluctant to undertake such a risky adventure, but Betsy at once grasped the value of the suggestion and began jumping up and down until she found herself bounding almost as high as Polychrome had done. Then she suddenly leaned forward and the next bound took her easily across the brook, where she alighted by the side of the Rainbow's Daughter. "Come on, Hank!" called the girl, and the donkey tried to obey. He managed to bound pretty high but when he tried to bound across the stream he misjudged the distance and fell with a splash into the middle of the water. "Hee-haw!" he wailed, struggling toward the far bank. Betsy rushed forward to help him out, but when the mule stood safely beside her she was amazed to find he was not wet at all. "It's dry water," said Polychrome, dipping her hand into the stream and showing how the water fell from it and left it perfectly dry. "In that case," returned Betsy, "they can all walk through the water." She called to Ozga and Shaggy to wade across, assuring them the water was shallow and would not wet them. At once they followed her advice, avoiding the rubber stepping-stones, and made the crossing with ease. This encouraged the entire party to wade through the dry water, and in a few minutes all had assembled on the bank and renewed their journey along the path that led to the Nome King's dominions. When Kaliko again looked through his magic spyglass he exclaimed: "Bad luck, Your Majesty! All the invaders have passed the Rubber Country and now are fast approaching the entrance to your caverns." Ruggedo raved and stormed at the news and his anger was so great that several times, as he strode up and down his jeweled cavern, he paused to kick Kaliko upon his shins, which were so sensitive that the poor nome howled with pain. Finally the King said: "There's no help for it; we must drop these audacious invaders down the Hollow Tube." Kaliko gave a jump, at this, and looked at his master wonderingly. "If you do that, Your Majesty," he said, "you will make Tititi-Hoochoo very angry." "Never mind that," retorted Ruggedo. "Tititi-Hoochoo lives on the other side of the world, so what do I care for his anger?" Kaliko shuddered and uttered a little groan. "Remember his terrible powers," he pleaded, "and remember that he warned you, the last time you slid people through the Hollow Tube, that if you did it again he would take vengeance upon you." The Metal Monarch walked up and down in silence, thinking deeply. "Of two dangers," said he, "it is wise to choose the least. What do you suppose these invaders want?" "Let the Long-Eared Hearer listen to them," suggested Kaliko. "Call him here at once!" commanded Ruggedo eagerly. So in a few minutes there entered the cavern a nome with enormous ears, who bowed low before the King. "Strangers are approaching," said Ruggedo, "and I wish to know their errand. Listen carefully to their talk and tell me why they are coming here, and what for." The nome bowed again and spread out his great ears, swaying them gently up and down and back and forth. For half an hour he stood silent, in an attitude of listening, while both the King and Kaliko grew impatient at the delay. At last the Long-Eared Hearer spoke: [Illustration] "Shaggy Man is coming here to rescue his brother from captivity," said he. "Ha, the Ugly One!" exclaimed Ruggedo. "Well, Shaggy Man may have his ugly brother, for all I care. He's too lazy to work and is always getting in my way. Where is the Ugly One now, Kaliko?" "The last time Your Majesty stumbled over the prisoner you commanded me to send him to the Metal Forest, which I did. I suppose he is still there." "Very good. The invaders will have a hard time finding the Metal Forest," said the King, with a grin of malicious delight, "for half the time I can't find it myself. Yet I created the forest and made every tree, out of gold and silver, so as to keep the precious metals in a safe place and out of the reach of mortals. But tell me, Hearer, do the strangers want anything else?" "Yes, indeed they do!" returned the nome. "The Army of Oogaboo is determined to capture all the rich metals and rare jewels in your kingdom, and the officers and their Queen have arranged to divide the spoils and carry them away." When he heard this Ruggedo uttered a bellow of rage and began dancing up and down, rolling his eyes, clicking his teeth together and swinging his arms furiously. Then, in an ecstasy of anger he seized the long ears of the Hearer and pulled and twisted them cruelly; but Kaliko grabbed up the King's sceptre and rapped him over the knuckles with it, so that Ruggedo let go the ears and began to chase his Royal Chamberlain around the throne. The Hearer took advantage of this opportunity to slip away from the cavern and escape, and after the King had tired himself out chasing Kaliko he threw himself into his throne and panted for breath, while he glared wickedly at his defiant subject. "You'd better save your strength to fight the enemy," suggested Kaliko. "There will be a terrible battle when the Army of Oogaboo gets here." "The Army won't get here," said the King, still coughing and panting. "I'll drop 'em down the Hollow Tube--every man Jack and every girl Jill of 'em!" "And defy Tititi-Hoochoo?" asked Kaliko. "Yes. Go at once to my Chief Magician and order him to turn the path toward the Hollow Tube, and to make the top of the Tube invisible, so they'll all fall into it." Kaliko went away shaking his head, for he thought Ruggedo was making a great mistake. He found the Magician and had the path twisted so that it led directly to the opening of the Hollow Tube, and this opening he made invisible. Having obeyed the orders of his master, the Royal Chamberlain went to his private room and began to write letters of recommendation of himself, stating that he was an honest man, a good servant and a small eater. "Pretty soon," he said to himself, "I shall have to look for another job, for it is certain that Ruggedo has ruined himself by this reckless defiance of the mighty Tititi-Hoochoo. And in seeking a job nothing is so effective as a letter of recommendation." [Illustration] [Illustration] CHAPTER 10 A Terrible Tumble Through a Tube I suppose that Polychrome, and perhaps Queen Ann and her Army, might have been able to dispel the enchantment of Ruggedo's Chief Magician had they known that danger lay in their pathway; for the Rainbow's Daughter was a fairy and as Oogaboo is a part of the Land of Oz its inhabitants cannot easily be deceived by such common magic as the Nome King could command. But no one suspected any especial danger until after they had entered Ruggedo's cavern, and so they were journeying along in quite a contented manner when Tik-Tok, who marched ahead, suddenly disappeared. The officers thought he must have turned a corner, so they kept on their way and all of them likewise disappeared--one after another. Queen Ann was rather surprised at this, and in hastening forward to learn the reason she also vanished from sight. Betsy Bobbin had tired her feet by walking, so she was now riding upon the back of the stout little mule, facing backward and talking to Shaggy and Polychrome, who were just behind. Suddenly Hank pitched forward and began falling and Betsy would have tumbled over his head had she not grabbed the mule's shaggy neck with both arms and held on for dear life. All around was darkness, and they were not falling directly downward but seemed to be sliding along a steep incline. Hank's hoofs were resting upon some smooth substance over which he slid with the swiftness of the wind. Once Betsy's heels flew up and struck a similar substance overhead. They were, indeed, descending the "Hollow Tube" that led to the other side of the world. "Stop, Hank--stop!" cried the girl; but Hank only uttered a plaintive "Hee-haw!" for it was impossible for him to obey. After several minutes had passed and no harm had befallen them, Betsy gained courage. She could see nothing at all, nor could she hear anything except the rush of air past her ears as they plunged downward along the Tube. Whether she and Hank were alone, or the others were with them, she could not tell. But had some one been able to take a flash-light photograph of the Tube at that time a most curious picture would have resulted. There was Tik-Tok, flat upon his back and sliding headforemost down the incline. And there were the Officers of the Army of Oogaboo, all tangled up in a confused crowd, flapping their arms and trying to shield their faces from the clanking swords, which swung back and forth during the swift journey and pommeled everyone within their reach. Now followed Queen Ann, who had struck the Tube in a sitting position and went flying along with a dash and abandon that thoroughly bewildered the poor lady, who had no idea what had happened to her. Then, a little distance away, but unseen by the others in the inky darkness, slid Betsy and Hank, while behind them were Shaggy and Polychrome and finally Files and the Princess. When first they tumbled into the Tube all were too dazed to think clearly, but the trip was a long one, because the cavity led straight through the earth to a place just opposite the Nome King's dominions, and long before the adventurers got to the end they had begun to recover their wits. "This is awful, Hank!" cried Betsy in a loud voice, and Queen Ann heard her and called out: "Are you safe, Betsy?" "Mercy, no!" answered the little girl. "How could anyone be safe when she's going about sixty miles a minute?" Then, after a pause, she added: "But where do you s'pose we're going to, Your Maj'sty?" "Don't ask her that, please don't!" said Shaggy, who was not too far away to overhear them. "And please don't ask me why, either." "Why?" said Betsy. "No one can tell where we are going until we get there," replied Shaggy, and then he yelled "Ouch!" for Polychrome had overtaken him and was now sitting on his head. The Rainbow's Daughter laughed merrily, and so infectious was this joyous laugh that Betsy echoed it and Hank said "Hee-haw!" in a mild and sympathetic tone of voice. "I'd like to know where and when we'll arrive, just the same," exclaimed the little girl. "Be patient and you'll find out, my dear," said Polychrome. "But isn't this an odd experience? Here am I, whose home is in the skies, making a journey through the center of the earth--where I never expected to be!" "How do you know we're in the center of the earth?" asked Betsy, her voice trembling a little through nervousness. "Why, we can't be anywhere else," replied Polychrome. "I have often heard of this passage, which was once built by a Magician who was a great traveler. He thought it would save him the bother of going around the earth's surface, but he tumbled through the Tube so fast that he shot out at the other end and hit a star in the sky, which at once exploded." "The star exploded?" asked Betsy wonderingly. "Yes; the Magician hit it so hard." "And what became of the Magician?" inquired the girl. "No one knows that," answered Polychrome. "But I don't think it matters much." "It matters a good deal, if we also hit the stars when we come out," said Queen Ann, with a moan. "Don't worry," advised Polychrome. "I believe the Magician was going the other way, and probably he went much faster than we are going." "It's fast enough to suit me," remarked Shaggy, gently removing Polychrome's heel from his left eye. "Couldn't you manage to fall all by yourself, my dear?" "I'll try," laughed the Rainbow's Daughter. All this time they were swiftly falling through the Tube, and it was not so easy for them to talk as you may imagine when you read their words. But although they were so helpless and altogether in the dark as to their fate, the fact that they were able to converse at all cheered them considerably. Files and Ozga were also conversing as they clung tightly to one another, and the young fellow bravely strove to reassure the Princess, although he was terribly frightened, both on her account and on his own. An hour, under such trying circumstances, is a very long time, and for more than an hour they continued their fearful journey. Then, just as they began to fear the Tube would never end, Tik-Tok popped out into broad daylight and, after making a graceful circle in the air, fell with a splash into a great marble fountain. Out came the officers, in quick succession, tumbling heels over head and striking the ground in many undignified attitudes. "For the love of sassafras!" exclaimed a Peculiar Person who was hoeing pink violets in a garden. "What can all this mean?" For answer, Queen Ann sailed up from the Tube, took a ride through the air as high as the treetops, and alighted squarely on top of the Peculiar Person's head, smashing a jeweled crown over his eyes and tumbling him to the ground. The mule was heavier and had Betsy clinging to his back, so he did not go so high up. Fortunately for his little rider he struck the ground upon his four feet. Betsy was jarred a trifle but not hurt and when she looked around her she saw the Queen and the Peculiar Person struggling together upon the ground, where the man was trying to choke Ann and she had both hands in his bushy hair and was pulling with all her might. Some of the officers, when they got upon their feet, hastened to separate the combatants and sought to restrain the Peculiar Person so that he could not attack their Queen again. [Illustration] By this time, Shaggy, Polychrome, Ozga and Files had all arrived and were curiously examining the strange country in which they found themselves and which they knew to be exactly on the opposite side of the world from the place where they had fallen into the Tube. It was a lovely place, indeed, and seemed to be the garden of some great Prince, for through the vistas of trees and shrubbery could be seen the towers of an immense castle. But as yet the only inhabitant to greet them was the Peculiar Person just mentioned, who had shaken off the grasp of the officers without effort and was now trying to pull the battered crown from off his eyes. Shaggy, who was always polite, helped him to do this and when the man was free and could see again he looked at his visitors with evident amazement. "Well, well, well!" he exclaimed. "Where did you come from and how did you get here?" Betsy tried to answer him, for Queen Ann was surly and silent. "I can't say, exac'ly where we came from, 'cause I don't know the name of the place," said the girl, "but the way we got here was through the Hollow Tube." "Don't call it a 'hollow' Tube, please," exclaimed the Peculiar Person in an irritated tone of voice. "If it's a tube, it's sure to be hollow." "Why?" asked Betsy. "Because all tubes are made that way. But this Tube is private property and everyone is forbidden to fall into it." "We didn't do it on purpose," explained Betsy, and Polychrome added: "I am quite sure that Ruggedo, the Nome King, pushed us down that Tube." "Ha! Ruggedo! Did you say Ruggedo?" cried the man, becoming much excited. "That is what she said," replied Shaggy, "and I believe she is right. We were on our way to conquer the Nome King when suddenly we fell into the Tube." "Then you are enemies of Ruggedo?" inquired the Peculiar Person. "Not exac'ly enemies," said Betsy, a little puzzled by the question, "'cause we don't know him at all; but we started out to conquer him, which isn't as friendly as it might be." "True," agreed the man. He looked thoughtfully from one to another of them for a while and then he turned his head over his shoulder and said: "Never mind the fire and pincers, my good brothers. It will be best to take these strangers to the Private Citizen." "Very well, Tubekins," responded a Voice, deep and powerful, that seemed to come out of the air, for the speaker was invisible. All our friends gave a jump, at this. Even Polychrome was so startled that her gauze draperies fluttered like a banner in a breeze. Shaggy shook his head and sighed; Queen Ann looked very unhappy; the officers clung to each other, trembling violently. But soon they gained courage to look more closely at the Peculiar Person. As he was a type of all the inhabitants of this extraordinary land whom they afterward met, I will try to tell you what he looked like. His face was beautiful, but lacked expression. His eyes were large and blue in color and his teeth finely formed and white as snow. His hair was black and bushy and seemed inclined to curl at the ends. So far no one could find any fault with his appearance. He wore a robe of scarlet, which did not cover his arms and extended no lower than his bare knees. On the bosom of the robe was embroidered a terrible dragon's head, as horrible to look at as the man was beautiful. His arms and legs were left bare and the skin of one arm was bright yellow and the skin of the other arm a vivid green. He had one blue leg and one pink one, while both his feet--which showed through the open sandals he wore--were jet black. Betsy could not decide whether these gorgeous colors were dyes or the natural tints of the skin, but while she was thinking it over the man who had been called "Tubekins" said: "Follow me to the Residence--all of you!" But just then a Voice exclaimed: "Here's another of them, Tubekins, lying in the water of the fountain." [Illustration] "Gracious!" cried Betsy; "it must be Tik-Tok, and he'll drown." "Water is a bad thing for his clockworks, anyhow," agreed Shaggy, as with one accord they all started for the fountain. But before they could reach it, invisible hands raised Tik-Tok from the marble basin and set him upon his feet beside it, water dripping from every joint of his copper body. "Ma--ny tha--tha--tha--thanks!" he said; and then his copper jaws clicked together and he could say no more. He next made an attempt to walk but after several awkward trials found he could not move his joints. Peals of jeering laughter from persons unseen greeted Tik-Tok's failure, and the new arrivals in this strange land found it very uncomfortable to realize that there were many creatures around them who were invisible, yet could be heard plainly. "Shall I wind him up?" asked Betsy, feeling very sorry for Tik-Tok. "I think his machinery is wound; but he needs oiling," replied Shaggy. At once an oil-can appeared before him, held on a level with his eyes by some unseen hand.

echoed

How many times the word 'echoed' appears in the text?

to ask the important question. She dropped to her knees, facing the flowers, and extended both her arms pleadingly toward them. "Tell me, pretty cousins," she said in her sweet, gentle voice, "which way will lead us to the Kingdom of Ruggedo, the Nome King?" At once all the stems bent gracefully to the right and the flower heads nodded once--twice--thrice in that direction. "That's it!" cried Files joyfully. "Now we know the way." Ozga rose to her feet and looked wonderingly at the field-flowers, which had now resumed their upright position. "Was it the wind, do you think?" she asked in a low whisper. "No, indeed," replied Files. "There is not a breath of wind stirring. But these lovely blossoms are indeed your cousins and answered your question at once, as I knew they would." [Illustration] CHAPTER 9 Ruggedo's Rage is Rash and Reckless The way taken by the adventurers led up hill and down dale and wound here and there in a fashion that seemed aimless. But always it drew nearer to a range of low mountains and Files said more than once that he was certain the entrance to Ruggedo's cavern would be found among these rugged hills. In this he was quite correct. Far underneath the nearest mountain was a gorgeous chamber hollowed from the solid rock, the walls and roof of which glittered with thousands of magnificent jewels. Here, on a throne of virgin gold, sat the famous Nome King, dressed in splendid robes and wearing a superb crown cut from a single blood-red ruby. Ruggedo, the Monarch of all the Metals and Precious Stones of the Underground World, was a round little man with a flowing white beard, a red face, bright eyes and a scowl that covered all his forehead. One would think, to look at him, that he ought to be jolly; one might think, considering his enormous wealth, that he ought to be happy; but this was not the case. The Metal Monarch was surly and cross because mortals had dug so much treasure out of the earth and kept it above ground, where all the power of Ruggedo and his nomes was unable to recover it. He hated not only the mortals but also the fairies who live upon the earth or above it, and instead of being content with the riches he still possessed he was unhappy because he did not own all the gold and jewels in the world. Ruggedo had been nodding, half asleep, in his chair when suddenly he sat upright uttered a roar of rage and began pounding upon a huge gong that stood beside him. The sound filled the vast cavern and penetrated to many caverns beyond, where countless thousands of nomes were working at their unending tasks, hammering out gold and silver and other metals, or melting ores in great furnaces, or polishing glittering gems. The nomes trembled at the sound of the King's gong and whispered fearfully to one another that something unpleasant was sure to happen; but none dared pause in his task. The heavy curtains of cloth-of-gold were pushed aside and Kaliko, the King's High Chamberlain, entered the royal presence. "What's up, Your Majesty?" he asked, with a wide yawn, for he had just wakened. "Up?" roared Ruggedo, stamping his foot viciously. "Those foolish mortals are up, that's what! And they want to come down." "Down here?" inquired Kaliko. "Yes!" "How do you know?" continued the Chamberlain, yawning again. "I feel it in my bones," said Ruggedo. "I can always feel it when those hateful earth-crawlers draw near to my Kingdom. I am positive, Kaliko, that mortals are this very minute on their way here to annoy me--and I hate mortals more than I do catnip tea!" "Well, what's to be done?" demanded the nome. "Look through your spyglass, and see where the invaders are," commanded the King. So Kaliko went to a tube in the wall of rock and put his eye to it. The tube ran from the cavern up to the side of the mountain and turned several curves and corners, but as it was a magic spyglass Kaliko was able to see through it just as easily as if it had been straight. "Ho--hum," said he. "I see 'em, Your Majesty." "What do they look like?" inquired the Monarch. "That's a hard question to answer, for a queerer assortment of creatures I never yet beheld," replied the nome. "However, such a collection of curiosities may prove dangerous. There's a copper man, worked by machinery--" "Bah! that's only Tik-Tok," said Ruggedo. "I'm not afraid of him. Why, only the other day I met the fellow and threw him down a well." "Then some one must have pulled him out again," said Kaliko. "And there's a little girl--" "Dorothy?" asked Ruggedo, jumping up in fear. "No; some other girl. In fact, there are several girls, of various sizes; but Dorothy is not with them, nor is Ozma." "That's good!" exclaimed the King, sighing in relief. Kaliko still had his eye to the spyglass. "I see," said he, "an army of men from Oogaboo. They are all officers and carry swords. And there is a Shaggy Man--who seems very harmless--and a little donkey with big ears." "Pooh!" cried Ruggedo, snapping his fingers in scorn. "I've no fear of such a mob as that. A dozen of my nomes can destroy them all in a jiffy." "I'm not so sure of that," said Kaliko. "The people of Oogaboo are hard to destroy, and I believe the Rose Princess is a fairy. As for Polychrome, you know very well that the Rainbow's Daughter cannot be injured by a nome." "Polychrome! Is she among them?" asked the King. "Yes; I have just recognized her." "Then these people are coming here on no peaceful errand," declared Ruggedo, scowling fiercely. "In fact, no one ever comes here on a peaceful errand. I hate everybody, and everybody hates me!" "Very true," said Kaliko. "I must in some way prevent these people from reaching my dominions. Where are they now?" "Just now they are crossing the Rubber Country, Your Majesty." "Good! Are your magnetic rubber wires in working order?" "I think so," replied Kaliko. "Is it your Royal Will that we have some fun with these invaders?" "It is," answered Ruggedo. "I want to teach them a lesson they will never forget." Now, Shaggy had no idea that he was in a Rubber Country, nor had any of his companions. They noticed that everything around them was of a dull gray color and that the path upon which they walked was soft and springy, yet they had no suspicion that the rocks and trees were rubber and even the path they trod was made of rubber. Presently they came to a brook where sparkling water dashed through a deep channel and rushed away between high rocks far down the mountain-side. Across the brook were stepping-stones, so placed that travelers might easily leap from one to another and in that manner cross the water to the farther bank. Tik-Tok was marching ahead, followed by his officers and Queen Ann. After them came Betsy Bobbin and Hank, Polychrome and Shaggy, and last of all the Rose Princess with Files. The Clockwork Man saw the stream and the stepping-stones and, without making a pause, placed his foot upon the first stone. The result was astonishing. First he sank down in the soft rubber, which then rebounded and sent Tik-Tok soaring high in the air, where he turned a succession of flip-flops and alighted upon a rubber rock far in the rear of the party. General Apple did not see Tik-Tok bound, so quickly had he disappeared; therefore he also stepped upon the stone (which you will guess was connected with Kaliko's magnetic rubber wire) and instantly shot upward like an arrow. General Cone came next and met with a like fate, but the others now noticed that something was wrong and with one accord they halted the column and looked back along the path. There was Tik-Tok, still bounding from one rubber rock to another, each time rising a less distance from the ground. And there was General Apple, bounding away in another direction, his three-cornered hat jammed over his eyes and his long sword thumping him upon the arms and head as it swung this way and that. And there, also, appeared General Cone, who had struck a rubber rock headforemost and was so crumpled up that his round body looked more like a bouncing-ball than the form of a man. Betsy laughed merrily at the strange sight and Polychrome echoed her laughter. But Ozga was grave and wondering, while Queen Ann became angry at seeing the chief officers of the Army of Oogaboo bounding around in so undignified a manner. She shouted to them to stop, but they were unable to obey, even though they would have been glad to do so. Finally, however, they all ceased bounding and managed to get upon their feet and rejoin the Army. "Why did you do that?" demanded Ann, who seemed greatly provoked. "Don't ask them why," said Shaggy earnestly. "I knew you would ask them why, but you ought not to do it. The reason is plain. Those stones are rubber; therefore they are not stones. Those rocks around us are rubber, and therefore they are not rocks. Even this path is not a path; it's rubber. Unless we are very careful, your Majesty, we are all likely to get the bounce, just as your poor officers and Tik-Tok did." [Illustration] "Then let's be careful," remarked Files, who was full of wisdom; but Polychrome wanted to test the quality of the rubber, so she began dancing. Every step sent her higher and higher into the air, so that she resembled a big butterfly fluttering lightly. Presently she made a great bound and bounded way across the stream, landing lightly and steadily on the other side. "There is no rubber over here," she called to them. "Suppose you all try to bound over the stream, without touching the stepping-stones." Ann and her officers were reluctant to undertake such a risky adventure, but Betsy at once grasped the value of the suggestion and began jumping up and down until she found herself bounding almost as high as Polychrome had done. Then she suddenly leaned forward and the next bound took her easily across the brook, where she alighted by the side of the Rainbow's Daughter. "Come on, Hank!" called the girl, and the donkey tried to obey. He managed to bound pretty high but when he tried to bound across the stream he misjudged the distance and fell with a splash into the middle of the water. "Hee-haw!" he wailed, struggling toward the far bank. Betsy rushed forward to help him out, but when the mule stood safely beside her she was amazed to find he was not wet at all. "It's dry water," said Polychrome, dipping her hand into the stream and showing how the water fell from it and left it perfectly dry. "In that case," returned Betsy, "they can all walk through the water." She called to Ozga and Shaggy to wade across, assuring them the water was shallow and would not wet them. At once they followed her advice, avoiding the rubber stepping-stones, and made the crossing with ease. This encouraged the entire party to wade through the dry water, and in a few minutes all had assembled on the bank and renewed their journey along the path that led to the Nome King's dominions. When Kaliko again looked through his magic spyglass he exclaimed: "Bad luck, Your Majesty! All the invaders have passed the Rubber Country and now are fast approaching the entrance to your caverns." Ruggedo raved and stormed at the news and his anger was so great that several times, as he strode up and down his jeweled cavern, he paused to kick Kaliko upon his shins, which were so sensitive that the poor nome howled with pain. Finally the King said: "There's no help for it; we must drop these audacious invaders down the Hollow Tube." Kaliko gave a jump, at this, and looked at his master wonderingly. "If you do that, Your Majesty," he said, "you will make Tititi-Hoochoo very angry." "Never mind that," retorted Ruggedo. "Tititi-Hoochoo lives on the other side of the world, so what do I care for his anger?" Kaliko shuddered and uttered a little groan. "Remember his terrible powers," he pleaded, "and remember that he warned you, the last time you slid people through the Hollow Tube, that if you did it again he would take vengeance upon you." The Metal Monarch walked up and down in silence, thinking deeply. "Of two dangers," said he, "it is wise to choose the least. What do you suppose these invaders want?" "Let the Long-Eared Hearer listen to them," suggested Kaliko. "Call him here at once!" commanded Ruggedo eagerly. So in a few minutes there entered the cavern a nome with enormous ears, who bowed low before the King. "Strangers are approaching," said Ruggedo, "and I wish to know their errand. Listen carefully to their talk and tell me why they are coming here, and what for." The nome bowed again and spread out his great ears, swaying them gently up and down and back and forth. For half an hour he stood silent, in an attitude of listening, while both the King and Kaliko grew impatient at the delay. At last the Long-Eared Hearer spoke: [Illustration] "Shaggy Man is coming here to rescue his brother from captivity," said he. "Ha, the Ugly One!" exclaimed Ruggedo. "Well, Shaggy Man may have his ugly brother, for all I care. He's too lazy to work and is always getting in my way. Where is the Ugly One now, Kaliko?" "The last time Your Majesty stumbled over the prisoner you commanded me to send him to the Metal Forest, which I did. I suppose he is still there." "Very good. The invaders will have a hard time finding the Metal Forest," said the King, with a grin of malicious delight, "for half the time I can't find it myself. Yet I created the forest and made every tree, out of gold and silver, so as to keep the precious metals in a safe place and out of the reach of mortals. But tell me, Hearer, do the strangers want anything else?" "Yes, indeed they do!" returned the nome. "The Army of Oogaboo is determined to capture all the rich metals and rare jewels in your kingdom, and the officers and their Queen have arranged to divide the spoils and carry them away." When he heard this Ruggedo uttered a bellow of rage and began dancing up and down, rolling his eyes, clicking his teeth together and swinging his arms furiously. Then, in an ecstasy of anger he seized the long ears of the Hearer and pulled and twisted them cruelly; but Kaliko grabbed up the King's sceptre and rapped him over the knuckles with it, so that Ruggedo let go the ears and began to chase his Royal Chamberlain around the throne. The Hearer took advantage of this opportunity to slip away from the cavern and escape, and after the King had tired himself out chasing Kaliko he threw himself into his throne and panted for breath, while he glared wickedly at his defiant subject. "You'd better save your strength to fight the enemy," suggested Kaliko. "There will be a terrible battle when the Army of Oogaboo gets here." "The Army won't get here," said the King, still coughing and panting. "I'll drop 'em down the Hollow Tube--every man Jack and every girl Jill of 'em!" "And defy Tititi-Hoochoo?" asked Kaliko. "Yes. Go at once to my Chief Magician and order him to turn the path toward the Hollow Tube, and to make the top of the Tube invisible, so they'll all fall into it." Kaliko went away shaking his head, for he thought Ruggedo was making a great mistake. He found the Magician and had the path twisted so that it led directly to the opening of the Hollow Tube, and this opening he made invisible. Having obeyed the orders of his master, the Royal Chamberlain went to his private room and began to write letters of recommendation of himself, stating that he was an honest man, a good servant and a small eater. "Pretty soon," he said to himself, "I shall have to look for another job, for it is certain that Ruggedo has ruined himself by this reckless defiance of the mighty Tititi-Hoochoo. And in seeking a job nothing is so effective as a letter of recommendation." [Illustration] [Illustration] CHAPTER 10 A Terrible Tumble Through a Tube I suppose that Polychrome, and perhaps Queen Ann and her Army, might have been able to dispel the enchantment of Ruggedo's Chief Magician had they known that danger lay in their pathway; for the Rainbow's Daughter was a fairy and as Oogaboo is a part of the Land of Oz its inhabitants cannot easily be deceived by such common magic as the Nome King could command. But no one suspected any especial danger until after they had entered Ruggedo's cavern, and so they were journeying along in quite a contented manner when Tik-Tok, who marched ahead, suddenly disappeared. The officers thought he must have turned a corner, so they kept on their way and all of them likewise disappeared--one after another. Queen Ann was rather surprised at this, and in hastening forward to learn the reason she also vanished from sight. Betsy Bobbin had tired her feet by walking, so she was now riding upon the back of the stout little mule, facing backward and talking to Shaggy and Polychrome, who were just behind. Suddenly Hank pitched forward and began falling and Betsy would have tumbled over his head had she not grabbed the mule's shaggy neck with both arms and held on for dear life. All around was darkness, and they were not falling directly downward but seemed to be sliding along a steep incline. Hank's hoofs were resting upon some smooth substance over which he slid with the swiftness of the wind. Once Betsy's heels flew up and struck a similar substance overhead. They were, indeed, descending the "Hollow Tube" that led to the other side of the world. "Stop, Hank--stop!" cried the girl; but Hank only uttered a plaintive "Hee-haw!" for it was impossible for him to obey. After several minutes had passed and no harm had befallen them, Betsy gained courage. She could see nothing at all, nor could she hear anything except the rush of air past her ears as they plunged downward along the Tube. Whether she and Hank were alone, or the others were with them, she could not tell. But had some one been able to take a flash-light photograph of the Tube at that time a most curious picture would have resulted. There was Tik-Tok, flat upon his back and sliding headforemost down the incline. And there were the Officers of the Army of Oogaboo, all tangled up in a confused crowd, flapping their arms and trying to shield their faces from the clanking swords, which swung back and forth during the swift journey and pommeled everyone within their reach. Now followed Queen Ann, who had struck the Tube in a sitting position and went flying along with a dash and abandon that thoroughly bewildered the poor lady, who had no idea what had happened to her. Then, a little distance away, but unseen by the others in the inky darkness, slid Betsy and Hank, while behind them were Shaggy and Polychrome and finally Files and the Princess. When first they tumbled into the Tube all were too dazed to think clearly, but the trip was a long one, because the cavity led straight through the earth to a place just opposite the Nome King's dominions, and long before the adventurers got to the end they had begun to recover their wits. "This is awful, Hank!" cried Betsy in a loud voice, and Queen Ann heard her and called out: "Are you safe, Betsy?" "Mercy, no!" answered the little girl. "How could anyone be safe when she's going about sixty miles a minute?" Then, after a pause, she added: "But where do you s'pose we're going to, Your Maj'sty?" "Don't ask her that, please don't!" said Shaggy, who was not too far away to overhear them. "And please don't ask me why, either." "Why?" said Betsy. "No one can tell where we are going until we get there," replied Shaggy, and then he yelled "Ouch!" for Polychrome had overtaken him and was now sitting on his head. The Rainbow's Daughter laughed merrily, and so infectious was this joyous laugh that Betsy echoed it and Hank said "Hee-haw!" in a mild and sympathetic tone of voice. "I'd like to know where and when we'll arrive, just the same," exclaimed the little girl. "Be patient and you'll find out, my dear," said Polychrome. "But isn't this an odd experience? Here am I, whose home is in the skies, making a journey through the center of the earth--where I never expected to be!" "How do you know we're in the center of the earth?" asked Betsy, her voice trembling a little through nervousness. "Why, we can't be anywhere else," replied Polychrome. "I have often heard of this passage, which was once built by a Magician who was a great traveler. He thought it would save him the bother of going around the earth's surface, but he tumbled through the Tube so fast that he shot out at the other end and hit a star in the sky, which at once exploded." "The star exploded?" asked Betsy wonderingly. "Yes; the Magician hit it so hard." "And what became of the Magician?" inquired the girl. "No one knows that," answered Polychrome. "But I don't think it matters much." "It matters a good deal, if we also hit the stars when we come out," said Queen Ann, with a moan. "Don't worry," advised Polychrome. "I believe the Magician was going the other way, and probably he went much faster than we are going." "It's fast enough to suit me," remarked Shaggy, gently removing Polychrome's heel from his left eye. "Couldn't you manage to fall all by yourself, my dear?" "I'll try," laughed the Rainbow's Daughter. All this time they were swiftly falling through the Tube, and it was not so easy for them to talk as you may imagine when you read their words. But although they were so helpless and altogether in the dark as to their fate, the fact that they were able to converse at all cheered them considerably. Files and Ozga were also conversing as they clung tightly to one another, and the young fellow bravely strove to reassure the Princess, although he was terribly frightened, both on her account and on his own. An hour, under such trying circumstances, is a very long time, and for more than an hour they continued their fearful journey. Then, just as they began to fear the Tube would never end, Tik-Tok popped out into broad daylight and, after making a graceful circle in the air, fell with a splash into a great marble fountain. Out came the officers, in quick succession, tumbling heels over head and striking the ground in many undignified attitudes. "For the love of sassafras!" exclaimed a Peculiar Person who was hoeing pink violets in a garden. "What can all this mean?" For answer, Queen Ann sailed up from the Tube, took a ride through the air as high as the treetops, and alighted squarely on top of the Peculiar Person's head, smashing a jeweled crown over his eyes and tumbling him to the ground. The mule was heavier and had Betsy clinging to his back, so he did not go so high up. Fortunately for his little rider he struck the ground upon his four feet. Betsy was jarred a trifle but not hurt and when she looked around her she saw the Queen and the Peculiar Person struggling together upon the ground, where the man was trying to choke Ann and she had both hands in his bushy hair and was pulling with all her might. Some of the officers, when they got upon their feet, hastened to separate the combatants and sought to restrain the Peculiar Person so that he could not attack their Queen again. [Illustration] By this time, Shaggy, Polychrome, Ozga and Files had all arrived and were curiously examining the strange country in which they found themselves and which they knew to be exactly on the opposite side of the world from the place where they had fallen into the Tube. It was a lovely place, indeed, and seemed to be the garden of some great Prince, for through the vistas of trees and shrubbery could be seen the towers of an immense castle. But as yet the only inhabitant to greet them was the Peculiar Person just mentioned, who had shaken off the grasp of the officers without effort and was now trying to pull the battered crown from off his eyes. Shaggy, who was always polite, helped him to do this and when the man was free and could see again he looked at his visitors with evident amazement. "Well, well, well!" he exclaimed. "Where did you come from and how did you get here?" Betsy tried to answer him, for Queen Ann was surly and silent. "I can't say, exac'ly where we came from, 'cause I don't know the name of the place," said the girl, "but the way we got here was through the Hollow Tube." "Don't call it a 'hollow' Tube, please," exclaimed the Peculiar Person in an irritated tone of voice. "If it's a tube, it's sure to be hollow." "Why?" asked Betsy. "Because all tubes are made that way. But this Tube is private property and everyone is forbidden to fall into it." "We didn't do it on purpose," explained Betsy, and Polychrome added: "I am quite sure that Ruggedo, the Nome King, pushed us down that Tube." "Ha! Ruggedo! Did you say Ruggedo?" cried the man, becoming much excited. "That is what she said," replied Shaggy, "and I believe she is right. We were on our way to conquer the Nome King when suddenly we fell into the Tube." "Then you are enemies of Ruggedo?" inquired the Peculiar Person. "Not exac'ly enemies," said Betsy, a little puzzled by the question, "'cause we don't know him at all; but we started out to conquer him, which isn't as friendly as it might be." "True," agreed the man. He looked thoughtfully from one to another of them for a while and then he turned his head over his shoulder and said: "Never mind the fire and pincers, my good brothers. It will be best to take these strangers to the Private Citizen." "Very well, Tubekins," responded a Voice, deep and powerful, that seemed to come out of the air, for the speaker was invisible. All our friends gave a jump, at this. Even Polychrome was so startled that her gauze draperies fluttered like a banner in a breeze. Shaggy shook his head and sighed; Queen Ann looked very unhappy; the officers clung to each other, trembling violently. But soon they gained courage to look more closely at the Peculiar Person. As he was a type of all the inhabitants of this extraordinary land whom they afterward met, I will try to tell you what he looked like. His face was beautiful, but lacked expression. His eyes were large and blue in color and his teeth finely formed and white as snow. His hair was black and bushy and seemed inclined to curl at the ends. So far no one could find any fault with his appearance. He wore a robe of scarlet, which did not cover his arms and extended no lower than his bare knees. On the bosom of the robe was embroidered a terrible dragon's head, as horrible to look at as the man was beautiful. His arms and legs were left bare and the skin of one arm was bright yellow and the skin of the other arm a vivid green. He had one blue leg and one pink one, while both his feet--which showed through the open sandals he wore--were jet black. Betsy could not decide whether these gorgeous colors were dyes or the natural tints of the skin, but while she was thinking it over the man who had been called "Tubekins" said: "Follow me to the Residence--all of you!" But just then a Voice exclaimed: "Here's another of them, Tubekins, lying in the water of the fountain." [Illustration] "Gracious!" cried Betsy; "it must be Tik-Tok, and he'll drown." "Water is a bad thing for his clockworks, anyhow," agreed Shaggy, as with one accord they all started for the fountain. But before they could reach it, invisible hands raised Tik-Tok from the marble basin and set him upon his feet beside it, water dripping from every joint of his copper body. "Ma--ny tha--tha--tha--thanks!" he said; and then his copper jaws clicked together and he could say no more. He next made an attempt to walk but after several awkward trials found he could not move his joints. Peals of jeering laughter from persons unseen greeted Tik-Tok's failure, and the new arrivals in this strange land found it very uncomfortable to realize that there were many creatures around them who were invisible, yet could be heard plainly. "Shall I wind him up?" asked Betsy, feeling very sorry for Tik-Tok. "I think his machinery is wound; but he needs oiling," replied Shaggy. At once an oil-can appeared before him, held on a level with his eyes by some unseen hand.

coming

How many times the word 'coming' appears in the text?

to ask the important question. She dropped to her knees, facing the flowers, and extended both her arms pleadingly toward them. "Tell me, pretty cousins," she said in her sweet, gentle voice, "which way will lead us to the Kingdom of Ruggedo, the Nome King?" At once all the stems bent gracefully to the right and the flower heads nodded once--twice--thrice in that direction. "That's it!" cried Files joyfully. "Now we know the way." Ozga rose to her feet and looked wonderingly at the field-flowers, which had now resumed their upright position. "Was it the wind, do you think?" she asked in a low whisper. "No, indeed," replied Files. "There is not a breath of wind stirring. But these lovely blossoms are indeed your cousins and answered your question at once, as I knew they would." [Illustration] CHAPTER 9 Ruggedo's Rage is Rash and Reckless The way taken by the adventurers led up hill and down dale and wound here and there in a fashion that seemed aimless. But always it drew nearer to a range of low mountains and Files said more than once that he was certain the entrance to Ruggedo's cavern would be found among these rugged hills. In this he was quite correct. Far underneath the nearest mountain was a gorgeous chamber hollowed from the solid rock, the walls and roof of which glittered with thousands of magnificent jewels. Here, on a throne of virgin gold, sat the famous Nome King, dressed in splendid robes and wearing a superb crown cut from a single blood-red ruby. Ruggedo, the Monarch of all the Metals and Precious Stones of the Underground World, was a round little man with a flowing white beard, a red face, bright eyes and a scowl that covered all his forehead. One would think, to look at him, that he ought to be jolly; one might think, considering his enormous wealth, that he ought to be happy; but this was not the case. The Metal Monarch was surly and cross because mortals had dug so much treasure out of the earth and kept it above ground, where all the power of Ruggedo and his nomes was unable to recover it. He hated not only the mortals but also the fairies who live upon the earth or above it, and instead of being content with the riches he still possessed he was unhappy because he did not own all the gold and jewels in the world. Ruggedo had been nodding, half asleep, in his chair when suddenly he sat upright uttered a roar of rage and began pounding upon a huge gong that stood beside him. The sound filled the vast cavern and penetrated to many caverns beyond, where countless thousands of nomes were working at their unending tasks, hammering out gold and silver and other metals, or melting ores in great furnaces, or polishing glittering gems. The nomes trembled at the sound of the King's gong and whispered fearfully to one another that something unpleasant was sure to happen; but none dared pause in his task. The heavy curtains of cloth-of-gold were pushed aside and Kaliko, the King's High Chamberlain, entered the royal presence. "What's up, Your Majesty?" he asked, with a wide yawn, for he had just wakened. "Up?" roared Ruggedo, stamping his foot viciously. "Those foolish mortals are up, that's what! And they want to come down." "Down here?" inquired Kaliko. "Yes!" "How do you know?" continued the Chamberlain, yawning again. "I feel it in my bones," said Ruggedo. "I can always feel it when those hateful earth-crawlers draw near to my Kingdom. I am positive, Kaliko, that mortals are this very minute on their way here to annoy me--and I hate mortals more than I do catnip tea!" "Well, what's to be done?" demanded the nome. "Look through your spyglass, and see where the invaders are," commanded the King. So Kaliko went to a tube in the wall of rock and put his eye to it. The tube ran from the cavern up to the side of the mountain and turned several curves and corners, but as it was a magic spyglass Kaliko was able to see through it just as easily as if it had been straight. "Ho--hum," said he. "I see 'em, Your Majesty." "What do they look like?" inquired the Monarch. "That's a hard question to answer, for a queerer assortment of creatures I never yet beheld," replied the nome. "However, such a collection of curiosities may prove dangerous. There's a copper man, worked by machinery--" "Bah! that's only Tik-Tok," said Ruggedo. "I'm not afraid of him. Why, only the other day I met the fellow and threw him down a well." "Then some one must have pulled him out again," said Kaliko. "And there's a little girl--" "Dorothy?" asked Ruggedo, jumping up in fear. "No; some other girl. In fact, there are several girls, of various sizes; but Dorothy is not with them, nor is Ozma." "That's good!" exclaimed the King, sighing in relief. Kaliko still had his eye to the spyglass. "I see," said he, "an army of men from Oogaboo. They are all officers and carry swords. And there is a Shaggy Man--who seems very harmless--and a little donkey with big ears." "Pooh!" cried Ruggedo, snapping his fingers in scorn. "I've no fear of such a mob as that. A dozen of my nomes can destroy them all in a jiffy." "I'm not so sure of that," said Kaliko. "The people of Oogaboo are hard to destroy, and I believe the Rose Princess is a fairy. As for Polychrome, you know very well that the Rainbow's Daughter cannot be injured by a nome." "Polychrome! Is she among them?" asked the King. "Yes; I have just recognized her." "Then these people are coming here on no peaceful errand," declared Ruggedo, scowling fiercely. "In fact, no one ever comes here on a peaceful errand. I hate everybody, and everybody hates me!" "Very true," said Kaliko. "I must in some way prevent these people from reaching my dominions. Where are they now?" "Just now they are crossing the Rubber Country, Your Majesty." "Good! Are your magnetic rubber wires in working order?" "I think so," replied Kaliko. "Is it your Royal Will that we have some fun with these invaders?" "It is," answered Ruggedo. "I want to teach them a lesson they will never forget." Now, Shaggy had no idea that he was in a Rubber Country, nor had any of his companions. They noticed that everything around them was of a dull gray color and that the path upon which they walked was soft and springy, yet they had no suspicion that the rocks and trees were rubber and even the path they trod was made of rubber. Presently they came to a brook where sparkling water dashed through a deep channel and rushed away between high rocks far down the mountain-side. Across the brook were stepping-stones, so placed that travelers might easily leap from one to another and in that manner cross the water to the farther bank. Tik-Tok was marching ahead, followed by his officers and Queen Ann. After them came Betsy Bobbin and Hank, Polychrome and Shaggy, and last of all the Rose Princess with Files. The Clockwork Man saw the stream and the stepping-stones and, without making a pause, placed his foot upon the first stone. The result was astonishing. First he sank down in the soft rubber, which then rebounded and sent Tik-Tok soaring high in the air, where he turned a succession of flip-flops and alighted upon a rubber rock far in the rear of the party. General Apple did not see Tik-Tok bound, so quickly had he disappeared; therefore he also stepped upon the stone (which you will guess was connected with Kaliko's magnetic rubber wire) and instantly shot upward like an arrow. General Cone came next and met with a like fate, but the others now noticed that something was wrong and with one accord they halted the column and looked back along the path. There was Tik-Tok, still bounding from one rubber rock to another, each time rising a less distance from the ground. And there was General Apple, bounding away in another direction, his three-cornered hat jammed over his eyes and his long sword thumping him upon the arms and head as it swung this way and that. And there, also, appeared General Cone, who had struck a rubber rock headforemost and was so crumpled up that his round body looked more like a bouncing-ball than the form of a man. Betsy laughed merrily at the strange sight and Polychrome echoed her laughter. But Ozga was grave and wondering, while Queen Ann became angry at seeing the chief officers of the Army of Oogaboo bounding around in so undignified a manner. She shouted to them to stop, but they were unable to obey, even though they would have been glad to do so. Finally, however, they all ceased bounding and managed to get upon their feet and rejoin the Army. "Why did you do that?" demanded Ann, who seemed greatly provoked. "Don't ask them why," said Shaggy earnestly. "I knew you would ask them why, but you ought not to do it. The reason is plain. Those stones are rubber; therefore they are not stones. Those rocks around us are rubber, and therefore they are not rocks. Even this path is not a path; it's rubber. Unless we are very careful, your Majesty, we are all likely to get the bounce, just as your poor officers and Tik-Tok did." [Illustration] "Then let's be careful," remarked Files, who was full of wisdom; but Polychrome wanted to test the quality of the rubber, so she began dancing. Every step sent her higher and higher into the air, so that she resembled a big butterfly fluttering lightly. Presently she made a great bound and bounded way across the stream, landing lightly and steadily on the other side. "There is no rubber over here," she called to them. "Suppose you all try to bound over the stream, without touching the stepping-stones." Ann and her officers were reluctant to undertake such a risky adventure, but Betsy at once grasped the value of the suggestion and began jumping up and down until she found herself bounding almost as high as Polychrome had done. Then she suddenly leaned forward and the next bound took her easily across the brook, where she alighted by the side of the Rainbow's Daughter. "Come on, Hank!" called the girl, and the donkey tried to obey. He managed to bound pretty high but when he tried to bound across the stream he misjudged the distance and fell with a splash into the middle of the water. "Hee-haw!" he wailed, struggling toward the far bank. Betsy rushed forward to help him out, but when the mule stood safely beside her she was amazed to find he was not wet at all. "It's dry water," said Polychrome, dipping her hand into the stream and showing how the water fell from it and left it perfectly dry. "In that case," returned Betsy, "they can all walk through the water." She called to Ozga and Shaggy to wade across, assuring them the water was shallow and would not wet them. At once they followed her advice, avoiding the rubber stepping-stones, and made the crossing with ease. This encouraged the entire party to wade through the dry water, and in a few minutes all had assembled on the bank and renewed their journey along the path that led to the Nome King's dominions. When Kaliko again looked through his magic spyglass he exclaimed: "Bad luck, Your Majesty! All the invaders have passed the Rubber Country and now are fast approaching the entrance to your caverns." Ruggedo raved and stormed at the news and his anger was so great that several times, as he strode up and down his jeweled cavern, he paused to kick Kaliko upon his shins, which were so sensitive that the poor nome howled with pain. Finally the King said: "There's no help for it; we must drop these audacious invaders down the Hollow Tube." Kaliko gave a jump, at this, and looked at his master wonderingly. "If you do that, Your Majesty," he said, "you will make Tititi-Hoochoo very angry." "Never mind that," retorted Ruggedo. "Tititi-Hoochoo lives on the other side of the world, so what do I care for his anger?" Kaliko shuddered and uttered a little groan. "Remember his terrible powers," he pleaded, "and remember that he warned you, the last time you slid people through the Hollow Tube, that if you did it again he would take vengeance upon you." The Metal Monarch walked up and down in silence, thinking deeply. "Of two dangers," said he, "it is wise to choose the least. What do you suppose these invaders want?" "Let the Long-Eared Hearer listen to them," suggested Kaliko. "Call him here at once!" commanded Ruggedo eagerly. So in a few minutes there entered the cavern a nome with enormous ears, who bowed low before the King. "Strangers are approaching," said Ruggedo, "and I wish to know their errand. Listen carefully to their talk and tell me why they are coming here, and what for." The nome bowed again and spread out his great ears, swaying them gently up and down and back and forth. For half an hour he stood silent, in an attitude of listening, while both the King and Kaliko grew impatient at the delay. At last the Long-Eared Hearer spoke: [Illustration] "Shaggy Man is coming here to rescue his brother from captivity," said he. "Ha, the Ugly One!" exclaimed Ruggedo. "Well, Shaggy Man may have his ugly brother, for all I care. He's too lazy to work and is always getting in my way. Where is the Ugly One now, Kaliko?" "The last time Your Majesty stumbled over the prisoner you commanded me to send him to the Metal Forest, which I did. I suppose he is still there." "Very good. The invaders will have a hard time finding the Metal Forest," said the King, with a grin of malicious delight, "for half the time I can't find it myself. Yet I created the forest and made every tree, out of gold and silver, so as to keep the precious metals in a safe place and out of the reach of mortals. But tell me, Hearer, do the strangers want anything else?" "Yes, indeed they do!" returned the nome. "The Army of Oogaboo is determined to capture all the rich metals and rare jewels in your kingdom, and the officers and their Queen have arranged to divide the spoils and carry them away." When he heard this Ruggedo uttered a bellow of rage and began dancing up and down, rolling his eyes, clicking his teeth together and swinging his arms furiously. Then, in an ecstasy of anger he seized the long ears of the Hearer and pulled and twisted them cruelly; but Kaliko grabbed up the King's sceptre and rapped him over the knuckles with it, so that Ruggedo let go the ears and began to chase his Royal Chamberlain around the throne. The Hearer took advantage of this opportunity to slip away from the cavern and escape, and after the King had tired himself out chasing Kaliko he threw himself into his throne and panted for breath, while he glared wickedly at his defiant subject. "You'd better save your strength to fight the enemy," suggested Kaliko. "There will be a terrible battle when the Army of Oogaboo gets here." "The Army won't get here," said the King, still coughing and panting. "I'll drop 'em down the Hollow Tube--every man Jack and every girl Jill of 'em!" "And defy Tititi-Hoochoo?" asked Kaliko. "Yes. Go at once to my Chief Magician and order him to turn the path toward the Hollow Tube, and to make the top of the Tube invisible, so they'll all fall into it." Kaliko went away shaking his head, for he thought Ruggedo was making a great mistake. He found the Magician and had the path twisted so that it led directly to the opening of the Hollow Tube, and this opening he made invisible. Having obeyed the orders of his master, the Royal Chamberlain went to his private room and began to write letters of recommendation of himself, stating that he was an honest man, a good servant and a small eater. "Pretty soon," he said to himself, "I shall have to look for another job, for it is certain that Ruggedo has ruined himself by this reckless defiance of the mighty Tititi-Hoochoo. And in seeking a job nothing is so effective as a letter of recommendation." [Illustration] [Illustration] CHAPTER 10 A Terrible Tumble Through a Tube I suppose that Polychrome, and perhaps Queen Ann and her Army, might have been able to dispel the enchantment of Ruggedo's Chief Magician had they known that danger lay in their pathway; for the Rainbow's Daughter was a fairy and as Oogaboo is a part of the Land of Oz its inhabitants cannot easily be deceived by such common magic as the Nome King could command. But no one suspected any especial danger until after they had entered Ruggedo's cavern, and so they were journeying along in quite a contented manner when Tik-Tok, who marched ahead, suddenly disappeared. The officers thought he must have turned a corner, so they kept on their way and all of them likewise disappeared--one after another. Queen Ann was rather surprised at this, and in hastening forward to learn the reason she also vanished from sight. Betsy Bobbin had tired her feet by walking, so she was now riding upon the back of the stout little mule, facing backward and talking to Shaggy and Polychrome, who were just behind. Suddenly Hank pitched forward and began falling and Betsy would have tumbled over his head had she not grabbed the mule's shaggy neck with both arms and held on for dear life. All around was darkness, and they were not falling directly downward but seemed to be sliding along a steep incline. Hank's hoofs were resting upon some smooth substance over which he slid with the swiftness of the wind. Once Betsy's heels flew up and struck a similar substance overhead. They were, indeed, descending the "Hollow Tube" that led to the other side of the world. "Stop, Hank--stop!" cried the girl; but Hank only uttered a plaintive "Hee-haw!" for it was impossible for him to obey. After several minutes had passed and no harm had befallen them, Betsy gained courage. She could see nothing at all, nor could she hear anything except the rush of air past her ears as they plunged downward along the Tube. Whether she and Hank were alone, or the others were with them, she could not tell. But had some one been able to take a flash-light photograph of the Tube at that time a most curious picture would have resulted. There was Tik-Tok, flat upon his back and sliding headforemost down the incline. And there were the Officers of the Army of Oogaboo, all tangled up in a confused crowd, flapping their arms and trying to shield their faces from the clanking swords, which swung back and forth during the swift journey and pommeled everyone within their reach. Now followed Queen Ann, who had struck the Tube in a sitting position and went flying along with a dash and abandon that thoroughly bewildered the poor lady, who had no idea what had happened to her. Then, a little distance away, but unseen by the others in the inky darkness, slid Betsy and Hank, while behind them were Shaggy and Polychrome and finally Files and the Princess. When first they tumbled into the Tube all were too dazed to think clearly, but the trip was a long one, because the cavity led straight through the earth to a place just opposite the Nome King's dominions, and long before the adventurers got to the end they had begun to recover their wits. "This is awful, Hank!" cried Betsy in a loud voice, and Queen Ann heard her and called out: "Are you safe, Betsy?" "Mercy, no!" answered the little girl. "How could anyone be safe when she's going about sixty miles a minute?" Then, after a pause, she added: "But where do you s'pose we're going to, Your Maj'sty?" "Don't ask her that, please don't!" said Shaggy, who was not too far away to overhear them. "And please don't ask me why, either." "Why?" said Betsy. "No one can tell where we are going until we get there," replied Shaggy, and then he yelled "Ouch!" for Polychrome had overtaken him and was now sitting on his head. The Rainbow's Daughter laughed merrily, and so infectious was this joyous laugh that Betsy echoed it and Hank said "Hee-haw!" in a mild and sympathetic tone of voice. "I'd like to know where and when we'll arrive, just the same," exclaimed the little girl. "Be patient and you'll find out, my dear," said Polychrome. "But isn't this an odd experience? Here am I, whose home is in the skies, making a journey through the center of the earth--where I never expected to be!" "How do you know we're in the center of the earth?" asked Betsy, her voice trembling a little through nervousness. "Why, we can't be anywhere else," replied Polychrome. "I have often heard of this passage, which was once built by a Magician who was a great traveler. He thought it would save him the bother of going around the earth's surface, but he tumbled through the Tube so fast that he shot out at the other end and hit a star in the sky, which at once exploded." "The star exploded?" asked Betsy wonderingly. "Yes; the Magician hit it so hard." "And what became of the Magician?" inquired the girl. "No one knows that," answered Polychrome. "But I don't think it matters much." "It matters a good deal, if we also hit the stars when we come out," said Queen Ann, with a moan. "Don't worry," advised Polychrome. "I believe the Magician was going the other way, and probably he went much faster than we are going." "It's fast enough to suit me," remarked Shaggy, gently removing Polychrome's heel from his left eye. "Couldn't you manage to fall all by yourself, my dear?" "I'll try," laughed the Rainbow's Daughter. All this time they were swiftly falling through the Tube, and it was not so easy for them to talk as you may imagine when you read their words. But although they were so helpless and altogether in the dark as to their fate, the fact that they were able to converse at all cheered them considerably. Files and Ozga were also conversing as they clung tightly to one another, and the young fellow bravely strove to reassure the Princess, although he was terribly frightened, both on her account and on his own. An hour, under such trying circumstances, is a very long time, and for more than an hour they continued their fearful journey. Then, just as they began to fear the Tube would never end, Tik-Tok popped out into broad daylight and, after making a graceful circle in the air, fell with a splash into a great marble fountain. Out came the officers, in quick succession, tumbling heels over head and striking the ground in many undignified attitudes. "For the love of sassafras!" exclaimed a Peculiar Person who was hoeing pink violets in a garden. "What can all this mean?" For answer, Queen Ann sailed up from the Tube, took a ride through the air as high as the treetops, and alighted squarely on top of the Peculiar Person's head, smashing a jeweled crown over his eyes and tumbling him to the ground. The mule was heavier and had Betsy clinging to his back, so he did not go so high up. Fortunately for his little rider he struck the ground upon his four feet. Betsy was jarred a trifle but not hurt and when she looked around her she saw the Queen and the Peculiar Person struggling together upon the ground, where the man was trying to choke Ann and she had both hands in his bushy hair and was pulling with all her might. Some of the officers, when they got upon their feet, hastened to separate the combatants and sought to restrain the Peculiar Person so that he could not attack their Queen again. [Illustration] By this time, Shaggy, Polychrome, Ozga and Files had all arrived and were curiously examining the strange country in which they found themselves and which they knew to be exactly on the opposite side of the world from the place where they had fallen into the Tube. It was a lovely place, indeed, and seemed to be the garden of some great Prince, for through the vistas of trees and shrubbery could be seen the towers of an immense castle. But as yet the only inhabitant to greet them was the Peculiar Person just mentioned, who had shaken off the grasp of the officers without effort and was now trying to pull the battered crown from off his eyes. Shaggy, who was always polite, helped him to do this and when the man was free and could see again he looked at his visitors with evident amazement. "Well, well, well!" he exclaimed. "Where did you come from and how did you get here?" Betsy tried to answer him, for Queen Ann was surly and silent. "I can't say, exac'ly where we came from, 'cause I don't know the name of the place," said the girl, "but the way we got here was through the Hollow Tube." "Don't call it a 'hollow' Tube, please," exclaimed the Peculiar Person in an irritated tone of voice. "If it's a tube, it's sure to be hollow." "Why?" asked Betsy. "Because all tubes are made that way. But this Tube is private property and everyone is forbidden to fall into it." "We didn't do it on purpose," explained Betsy, and Polychrome added: "I am quite sure that Ruggedo, the Nome King, pushed us down that Tube." "Ha! Ruggedo! Did you say Ruggedo?" cried the man, becoming much excited. "That is what she said," replied Shaggy, "and I believe she is right. We were on our way to conquer the Nome King when suddenly we fell into the Tube." "Then you are enemies of Ruggedo?" inquired the Peculiar Person. "Not exac'ly enemies," said Betsy, a little puzzled by the question, "'cause we don't know him at all; but we started out to conquer him, which isn't as friendly as it might be." "True," agreed the man. He looked thoughtfully from one to another of them for a while and then he turned his head over his shoulder and said: "Never mind the fire and pincers, my good brothers. It will be best to take these strangers to the Private Citizen." "Very well, Tubekins," responded a Voice, deep and powerful, that seemed to come out of the air, for the speaker was invisible. All our friends gave a jump, at this. Even Polychrome was so startled that her gauze draperies fluttered like a banner in a breeze. Shaggy shook his head and sighed; Queen Ann looked very unhappy; the officers clung to each other, trembling violently. But soon they gained courage to look more closely at the Peculiar Person. As he was a type of all the inhabitants of this extraordinary land whom they afterward met, I will try to tell you what he looked like. His face was beautiful, but lacked expression. His eyes were large and blue in color and his teeth finely formed and white as snow. His hair was black and bushy and seemed inclined to curl at the ends. So far no one could find any fault with his appearance. He wore a robe of scarlet, which did not cover his arms and extended no lower than his bare knees. On the bosom of the robe was embroidered a terrible dragon's head, as horrible to look at as the man was beautiful. His arms and legs were left bare and the skin of one arm was bright yellow and the skin of the other arm a vivid green. He had one blue leg and one pink one, while both his feet--which showed through the open sandals he wore--were jet black. Betsy could not decide whether these gorgeous colors were dyes or the natural tints of the skin, but while she was thinking it over the man who had been called "Tubekins" said: "Follow me to the Residence--all of you!" But just then a Voice exclaimed: "Here's another of them, Tubekins, lying in the water of the fountain." [Illustration] "Gracious!" cried Betsy; "it must be Tik-Tok, and he'll drown." "Water is a bad thing for his clockworks, anyhow," agreed Shaggy, as with one accord they all started for the fountain. But before they could reach it, invisible hands raised Tik-Tok from the marble basin and set him upon his feet beside it, water dripping from every joint of his copper body. "Ma--ny tha--tha--tha--thanks!" he said; and then his copper jaws clicked together and he could say no more. He next made an attempt to walk but after several awkward trials found he could not move his joints. Peals of jeering laughter from persons unseen greeted Tik-Tok's failure, and the new arrivals in this strange land found it very uncomfortable to realize that there were many creatures around them who were invisible, yet could be heard plainly. "Shall I wind him up?" asked Betsy, feeling very sorry for Tik-Tok. "I think his machinery is wound; but he needs oiling," replied Shaggy. At once an oil-can appeared before him, held on a level with his eyes by some unseen hand.

charms

How many times the word 'charms' appears in the text?

to ask the important question. She dropped to her knees, facing the flowers, and extended both her arms pleadingly toward them. "Tell me, pretty cousins," she said in her sweet, gentle voice, "which way will lead us to the Kingdom of Ruggedo, the Nome King?" At once all the stems bent gracefully to the right and the flower heads nodded once--twice--thrice in that direction. "That's it!" cried Files joyfully. "Now we know the way." Ozga rose to her feet and looked wonderingly at the field-flowers, which had now resumed their upright position. "Was it the wind, do you think?" she asked in a low whisper. "No, indeed," replied Files. "There is not a breath of wind stirring. But these lovely blossoms are indeed your cousins and answered your question at once, as I knew they would." [Illustration] CHAPTER 9 Ruggedo's Rage is Rash and Reckless The way taken by the adventurers led up hill and down dale and wound here and there in a fashion that seemed aimless. But always it drew nearer to a range of low mountains and Files said more than once that he was certain the entrance to Ruggedo's cavern would be found among these rugged hills. In this he was quite correct. Far underneath the nearest mountain was a gorgeous chamber hollowed from the solid rock, the walls and roof of which glittered with thousands of magnificent jewels. Here, on a throne of virgin gold, sat the famous Nome King, dressed in splendid robes and wearing a superb crown cut from a single blood-red ruby. Ruggedo, the Monarch of all the Metals and Precious Stones of the Underground World, was a round little man with a flowing white beard, a red face, bright eyes and a scowl that covered all his forehead. One would think, to look at him, that he ought to be jolly; one might think, considering his enormous wealth, that he ought to be happy; but this was not the case. The Metal Monarch was surly and cross because mortals had dug so much treasure out of the earth and kept it above ground, where all the power of Ruggedo and his nomes was unable to recover it. He hated not only the mortals but also the fairies who live upon the earth or above it, and instead of being content with the riches he still possessed he was unhappy because he did not own all the gold and jewels in the world. Ruggedo had been nodding, half asleep, in his chair when suddenly he sat upright uttered a roar of rage and began pounding upon a huge gong that stood beside him. The sound filled the vast cavern and penetrated to many caverns beyond, where countless thousands of nomes were working at their unending tasks, hammering out gold and silver and other metals, or melting ores in great furnaces, or polishing glittering gems. The nomes trembled at the sound of the King's gong and whispered fearfully to one another that something unpleasant was sure to happen; but none dared pause in his task. The heavy curtains of cloth-of-gold were pushed aside and Kaliko, the King's High Chamberlain, entered the royal presence. "What's up, Your Majesty?" he asked, with a wide yawn, for he had just wakened. "Up?" roared Ruggedo, stamping his foot viciously. "Those foolish mortals are up, that's what! And they want to come down." "Down here?" inquired Kaliko. "Yes!" "How do you know?" continued the Chamberlain, yawning again. "I feel it in my bones," said Ruggedo. "I can always feel it when those hateful earth-crawlers draw near to my Kingdom. I am positive, Kaliko, that mortals are this very minute on their way here to annoy me--and I hate mortals more than I do catnip tea!" "Well, what's to be done?" demanded the nome. "Look through your spyglass, and see where the invaders are," commanded the King. So Kaliko went to a tube in the wall of rock and put his eye to it. The tube ran from the cavern up to the side of the mountain and turned several curves and corners, but as it was a magic spyglass Kaliko was able to see through it just as easily as if it had been straight. "Ho--hum," said he. "I see 'em, Your Majesty." "What do they look like?" inquired the Monarch. "That's a hard question to answer, for a queerer assortment of creatures I never yet beheld," replied the nome. "However, such a collection of curiosities may prove dangerous. There's a copper man, worked by machinery--" "Bah! that's only Tik-Tok," said Ruggedo. "I'm not afraid of him. Why, only the other day I met the fellow and threw him down a well." "Then some one must have pulled him out again," said Kaliko. "And there's a little girl--" "Dorothy?" asked Ruggedo, jumping up in fear. "No; some other girl. In fact, there are several girls, of various sizes; but Dorothy is not with them, nor is Ozma." "That's good!" exclaimed the King, sighing in relief. Kaliko still had his eye to the spyglass. "I see," said he, "an army of men from Oogaboo. They are all officers and carry swords. And there is a Shaggy Man--who seems very harmless--and a little donkey with big ears." "Pooh!" cried Ruggedo, snapping his fingers in scorn. "I've no fear of such a mob as that. A dozen of my nomes can destroy them all in a jiffy." "I'm not so sure of that," said Kaliko. "The people of Oogaboo are hard to destroy, and I believe the Rose Princess is a fairy. As for Polychrome, you know very well that the Rainbow's Daughter cannot be injured by a nome." "Polychrome! Is she among them?" asked the King. "Yes; I have just recognized her." "Then these people are coming here on no peaceful errand," declared Ruggedo, scowling fiercely. "In fact, no one ever comes here on a peaceful errand. I hate everybody, and everybody hates me!" "Very true," said Kaliko. "I must in some way prevent these people from reaching my dominions. Where are they now?" "Just now they are crossing the Rubber Country, Your Majesty." "Good! Are your magnetic rubber wires in working order?" "I think so," replied Kaliko. "Is it your Royal Will that we have some fun with these invaders?" "It is," answered Ruggedo. "I want to teach them a lesson they will never forget." Now, Shaggy had no idea that he was in a Rubber Country, nor had any of his companions. They noticed that everything around them was of a dull gray color and that the path upon which they walked was soft and springy, yet they had no suspicion that the rocks and trees were rubber and even the path they trod was made of rubber. Presently they came to a brook where sparkling water dashed through a deep channel and rushed away between high rocks far down the mountain-side. Across the brook were stepping-stones, so placed that travelers might easily leap from one to another and in that manner cross the water to the farther bank. Tik-Tok was marching ahead, followed by his officers and Queen Ann. After them came Betsy Bobbin and Hank, Polychrome and Shaggy, and last of all the Rose Princess with Files. The Clockwork Man saw the stream and the stepping-stones and, without making a pause, placed his foot upon the first stone. The result was astonishing. First he sank down in the soft rubber, which then rebounded and sent Tik-Tok soaring high in the air, where he turned a succession of flip-flops and alighted upon a rubber rock far in the rear of the party. General Apple did not see Tik-Tok bound, so quickly had he disappeared; therefore he also stepped upon the stone (which you will guess was connected with Kaliko's magnetic rubber wire) and instantly shot upward like an arrow. General Cone came next and met with a like fate, but the others now noticed that something was wrong and with one accord they halted the column and looked back along the path. There was Tik-Tok, still bounding from one rubber rock to another, each time rising a less distance from the ground. And there was General Apple, bounding away in another direction, his three-cornered hat jammed over his eyes and his long sword thumping him upon the arms and head as it swung this way and that. And there, also, appeared General Cone, who had struck a rubber rock headforemost and was so crumpled up that his round body looked more like a bouncing-ball than the form of a man. Betsy laughed merrily at the strange sight and Polychrome echoed her laughter. But Ozga was grave and wondering, while Queen Ann became angry at seeing the chief officers of the Army of Oogaboo bounding around in so undignified a manner. She shouted to them to stop, but they were unable to obey, even though they would have been glad to do so. Finally, however, they all ceased bounding and managed to get upon their feet and rejoin the Army. "Why did you do that?" demanded Ann, who seemed greatly provoked. "Don't ask them why," said Shaggy earnestly. "I knew you would ask them why, but you ought not to do it. The reason is plain. Those stones are rubber; therefore they are not stones. Those rocks around us are rubber, and therefore they are not rocks. Even this path is not a path; it's rubber. Unless we are very careful, your Majesty, we are all likely to get the bounce, just as your poor officers and Tik-Tok did." [Illustration] "Then let's be careful," remarked Files, who was full of wisdom; but Polychrome wanted to test the quality of the rubber, so she began dancing. Every step sent her higher and higher into the air, so that she resembled a big butterfly fluttering lightly. Presently she made a great bound and bounded way across the stream, landing lightly and steadily on the other side. "There is no rubber over here," she called to them. "Suppose you all try to bound over the stream, without touching the stepping-stones." Ann and her officers were reluctant to undertake such a risky adventure, but Betsy at once grasped the value of the suggestion and began jumping up and down until she found herself bounding almost as high as Polychrome had done. Then she suddenly leaned forward and the next bound took her easily across the brook, where she alighted by the side of the Rainbow's Daughter. "Come on, Hank!" called the girl, and the donkey tried to obey. He managed to bound pretty high but when he tried to bound across the stream he misjudged the distance and fell with a splash into the middle of the water. "Hee-haw!" he wailed, struggling toward the far bank. Betsy rushed forward to help him out, but when the mule stood safely beside her she was amazed to find he was not wet at all. "It's dry water," said Polychrome, dipping her hand into the stream and showing how the water fell from it and left it perfectly dry. "In that case," returned Betsy, "they can all walk through the water." She called to Ozga and Shaggy to wade across, assuring them the water was shallow and would not wet them. At once they followed her advice, avoiding the rubber stepping-stones, and made the crossing with ease. This encouraged the entire party to wade through the dry water, and in a few minutes all had assembled on the bank and renewed their journey along the path that led to the Nome King's dominions. When Kaliko again looked through his magic spyglass he exclaimed: "Bad luck, Your Majesty! All the invaders have passed the Rubber Country and now are fast approaching the entrance to your caverns." Ruggedo raved and stormed at the news and his anger was so great that several times, as he strode up and down his jeweled cavern, he paused to kick Kaliko upon his shins, which were so sensitive that the poor nome howled with pain. Finally the King said: "There's no help for it; we must drop these audacious invaders down the Hollow Tube." Kaliko gave a jump, at this, and looked at his master wonderingly. "If you do that, Your Majesty," he said, "you will make Tititi-Hoochoo very angry." "Never mind that," retorted Ruggedo. "Tititi-Hoochoo lives on the other side of the world, so what do I care for his anger?" Kaliko shuddered and uttered a little groan. "Remember his terrible powers," he pleaded, "and remember that he warned you, the last time you slid people through the Hollow Tube, that if you did it again he would take vengeance upon you." The Metal Monarch walked up and down in silence, thinking deeply. "Of two dangers," said he, "it is wise to choose the least. What do you suppose these invaders want?" "Let the Long-Eared Hearer listen to them," suggested Kaliko. "Call him here at once!" commanded Ruggedo eagerly. So in a few minutes there entered the cavern a nome with enormous ears, who bowed low before the King. "Strangers are approaching," said Ruggedo, "and I wish to know their errand. Listen carefully to their talk and tell me why they are coming here, and what for." The nome bowed again and spread out his great ears, swaying them gently up and down and back and forth. For half an hour he stood silent, in an attitude of listening, while both the King and Kaliko grew impatient at the delay. At last the Long-Eared Hearer spoke: [Illustration] "Shaggy Man is coming here to rescue his brother from captivity," said he. "Ha, the Ugly One!" exclaimed Ruggedo. "Well, Shaggy Man may have his ugly brother, for all I care. He's too lazy to work and is always getting in my way. Where is the Ugly One now, Kaliko?" "The last time Your Majesty stumbled over the prisoner you commanded me to send him to the Metal Forest, which I did. I suppose he is still there." "Very good. The invaders will have a hard time finding the Metal Forest," said the King, with a grin of malicious delight, "for half the time I can't find it myself. Yet I created the forest and made every tree, out of gold and silver, so as to keep the precious metals in a safe place and out of the reach of mortals. But tell me, Hearer, do the strangers want anything else?" "Yes, indeed they do!" returned the nome. "The Army of Oogaboo is determined to capture all the rich metals and rare jewels in your kingdom, and the officers and their Queen have arranged to divide the spoils and carry them away." When he heard this Ruggedo uttered a bellow of rage and began dancing up and down, rolling his eyes, clicking his teeth together and swinging his arms furiously. Then, in an ecstasy of anger he seized the long ears of the Hearer and pulled and twisted them cruelly; but Kaliko grabbed up the King's sceptre and rapped him over the knuckles with it, so that Ruggedo let go the ears and began to chase his Royal Chamberlain around the throne. The Hearer took advantage of this opportunity to slip away from the cavern and escape, and after the King had tired himself out chasing Kaliko he threw himself into his throne and panted for breath, while he glared wickedly at his defiant subject. "You'd better save your strength to fight the enemy," suggested Kaliko. "There will be a terrible battle when the Army of Oogaboo gets here." "The Army won't get here," said the King, still coughing and panting. "I'll drop 'em down the Hollow Tube--every man Jack and every girl Jill of 'em!" "And defy Tititi-Hoochoo?" asked Kaliko. "Yes. Go at once to my Chief Magician and order him to turn the path toward the Hollow Tube, and to make the top of the Tube invisible, so they'll all fall into it." Kaliko went away shaking his head, for he thought Ruggedo was making a great mistake. He found the Magician and had the path twisted so that it led directly to the opening of the Hollow Tube, and this opening he made invisible. Having obeyed the orders of his master, the Royal Chamberlain went to his private room and began to write letters of recommendation of himself, stating that he was an honest man, a good servant and a small eater. "Pretty soon," he said to himself, "I shall have to look for another job, for it is certain that Ruggedo has ruined himself by this reckless defiance of the mighty Tititi-Hoochoo. And in seeking a job nothing is so effective as a letter of recommendation." [Illustration] [Illustration] CHAPTER 10 A Terrible Tumble Through a Tube I suppose that Polychrome, and perhaps Queen Ann and her Army, might have been able to dispel the enchantment of Ruggedo's Chief Magician had they known that danger lay in their pathway; for the Rainbow's Daughter was a fairy and as Oogaboo is a part of the Land of Oz its inhabitants cannot easily be deceived by such common magic as the Nome King could command. But no one suspected any especial danger until after they had entered Ruggedo's cavern, and so they were journeying along in quite a contented manner when Tik-Tok, who marched ahead, suddenly disappeared. The officers thought he must have turned a corner, so they kept on their way and all of them likewise disappeared--one after another. Queen Ann was rather surprised at this, and in hastening forward to learn the reason she also vanished from sight. Betsy Bobbin had tired her feet by walking, so she was now riding upon the back of the stout little mule, facing backward and talking to Shaggy and Polychrome, who were just behind. Suddenly Hank pitched forward and began falling and Betsy would have tumbled over his head had she not grabbed the mule's shaggy neck with both arms and held on for dear life. All around was darkness, and they were not falling directly downward but seemed to be sliding along a steep incline. Hank's hoofs were resting upon some smooth substance over which he slid with the swiftness of the wind. Once Betsy's heels flew up and struck a similar substance overhead. They were, indeed, descending the "Hollow Tube" that led to the other side of the world. "Stop, Hank--stop!" cried the girl; but Hank only uttered a plaintive "Hee-haw!" for it was impossible for him to obey. After several minutes had passed and no harm had befallen them, Betsy gained courage. She could see nothing at all, nor could she hear anything except the rush of air past her ears as they plunged downward along the Tube. Whether she and Hank were alone, or the others were with them, she could not tell. But had some one been able to take a flash-light photograph of the Tube at that time a most curious picture would have resulted. There was Tik-Tok, flat upon his back and sliding headforemost down the incline. And there were the Officers of the Army of Oogaboo, all tangled up in a confused crowd, flapping their arms and trying to shield their faces from the clanking swords, which swung back and forth during the swift journey and pommeled everyone within their reach. Now followed Queen Ann, who had struck the Tube in a sitting position and went flying along with a dash and abandon that thoroughly bewildered the poor lady, who had no idea what had happened to her. Then, a little distance away, but unseen by the others in the inky darkness, slid Betsy and Hank, while behind them were Shaggy and Polychrome and finally Files and the Princess. When first they tumbled into the Tube all were too dazed to think clearly, but the trip was a long one, because the cavity led straight through the earth to a place just opposite the Nome King's dominions, and long before the adventurers got to the end they had begun to recover their wits. "This is awful, Hank!" cried Betsy in a loud voice, and Queen Ann heard her and called out: "Are you safe, Betsy?" "Mercy, no!" answered the little girl. "How could anyone be safe when she's going about sixty miles a minute?" Then, after a pause, she added: "But where do you s'pose we're going to, Your Maj'sty?" "Don't ask her that, please don't!" said Shaggy, who was not too far away to overhear them. "And please don't ask me why, either." "Why?" said Betsy. "No one can tell where we are going until we get there," replied Shaggy, and then he yelled "Ouch!" for Polychrome had overtaken him and was now sitting on his head. The Rainbow's Daughter laughed merrily, and so infectious was this joyous laugh that Betsy echoed it and Hank said "Hee-haw!" in a mild and sympathetic tone of voice. "I'd like to know where and when we'll arrive, just the same," exclaimed the little girl. "Be patient and you'll find out, my dear," said Polychrome. "But isn't this an odd experience? Here am I, whose home is in the skies, making a journey through the center of the earth--where I never expected to be!" "How do you know we're in the center of the earth?" asked Betsy, her voice trembling a little through nervousness. "Why, we can't be anywhere else," replied Polychrome. "I have often heard of this passage, which was once built by a Magician who was a great traveler. He thought it would save him the bother of going around the earth's surface, but he tumbled through the Tube so fast that he shot out at the other end and hit a star in the sky, which at once exploded." "The star exploded?" asked Betsy wonderingly. "Yes; the Magician hit it so hard." "And what became of the Magician?" inquired the girl. "No one knows that," answered Polychrome. "But I don't think it matters much." "It matters a good deal, if we also hit the stars when we come out," said Queen Ann, with a moan. "Don't worry," advised Polychrome. "I believe the Magician was going the other way, and probably he went much faster than we are going." "It's fast enough to suit me," remarked Shaggy, gently removing Polychrome's heel from his left eye. "Couldn't you manage to fall all by yourself, my dear?" "I'll try," laughed the Rainbow's Daughter. All this time they were swiftly falling through the Tube, and it was not so easy for them to talk as you may imagine when you read their words. But although they were so helpless and altogether in the dark as to their fate, the fact that they were able to converse at all cheered them considerably. Files and Ozga were also conversing as they clung tightly to one another, and the young fellow bravely strove to reassure the Princess, although he was terribly frightened, both on her account and on his own. An hour, under such trying circumstances, is a very long time, and for more than an hour they continued their fearful journey. Then, just as they began to fear the Tube would never end, Tik-Tok popped out into broad daylight and, after making a graceful circle in the air, fell with a splash into a great marble fountain. Out came the officers, in quick succession, tumbling heels over head and striking the ground in many undignified attitudes. "For the love of sassafras!" exclaimed a Peculiar Person who was hoeing pink violets in a garden. "What can all this mean?" For answer, Queen Ann sailed up from the Tube, took a ride through the air as high as the treetops, and alighted squarely on top of the Peculiar Person's head, smashing a jeweled crown over his eyes and tumbling him to the ground. The mule was heavier and had Betsy clinging to his back, so he did not go so high up. Fortunately for his little rider he struck the ground upon his four feet. Betsy was jarred a trifle but not hurt and when she looked around her she saw the Queen and the Peculiar Person struggling together upon the ground, where the man was trying to choke Ann and she had both hands in his bushy hair and was pulling with all her might. Some of the officers, when they got upon their feet, hastened to separate the combatants and sought to restrain the Peculiar Person so that he could not attack their Queen again. [Illustration] By this time, Shaggy, Polychrome, Ozga and Files had all arrived and were curiously examining the strange country in which they found themselves and which they knew to be exactly on the opposite side of the world from the place where they had fallen into the Tube. It was a lovely place, indeed, and seemed to be the garden of some great Prince, for through the vistas of trees and shrubbery could be seen the towers of an immense castle. But as yet the only inhabitant to greet them was the Peculiar Person just mentioned, who had shaken off the grasp of the officers without effort and was now trying to pull the battered crown from off his eyes. Shaggy, who was always polite, helped him to do this and when the man was free and could see again he looked at his visitors with evident amazement. "Well, well, well!" he exclaimed. "Where did you come from and how did you get here?" Betsy tried to answer him, for Queen Ann was surly and silent. "I can't say, exac'ly where we came from, 'cause I don't know the name of the place," said the girl, "but the way we got here was through the Hollow Tube." "Don't call it a 'hollow' Tube, please," exclaimed the Peculiar Person in an irritated tone of voice. "If it's a tube, it's sure to be hollow." "Why?" asked Betsy. "Because all tubes are made that way. But this Tube is private property and everyone is forbidden to fall into it." "We didn't do it on purpose," explained Betsy, and Polychrome added: "I am quite sure that Ruggedo, the Nome King, pushed us down that Tube." "Ha! Ruggedo! Did you say Ruggedo?" cried the man, becoming much excited. "That is what she said," replied Shaggy, "and I believe she is right. We were on our way to conquer the Nome King when suddenly we fell into the Tube." "Then you are enemies of Ruggedo?" inquired the Peculiar Person. "Not exac'ly enemies," said Betsy, a little puzzled by the question, "'cause we don't know him at all; but we started out to conquer him, which isn't as friendly as it might be." "True," agreed the man. He looked thoughtfully from one to another of them for a while and then he turned his head over his shoulder and said: "Never mind the fire and pincers, my good brothers. It will be best to take these strangers to the Private Citizen." "Very well, Tubekins," responded a Voice, deep and powerful, that seemed to come out of the air, for the speaker was invisible. All our friends gave a jump, at this. Even Polychrome was so startled that her gauze draperies fluttered like a banner in a breeze. Shaggy shook his head and sighed; Queen Ann looked very unhappy; the officers clung to each other, trembling violently. But soon they gained courage to look more closely at the Peculiar Person. As he was a type of all the inhabitants of this extraordinary land whom they afterward met, I will try to tell you what he looked like. His face was beautiful, but lacked expression. His eyes were large and blue in color and his teeth finely formed and white as snow. His hair was black and bushy and seemed inclined to curl at the ends. So far no one could find any fault with his appearance. He wore a robe of scarlet, which did not cover his arms and extended no lower than his bare knees. On the bosom of the robe was embroidered a terrible dragon's head, as horrible to look at as the man was beautiful. His arms and legs were left bare and the skin of one arm was bright yellow and the skin of the other arm a vivid green. He had one blue leg and one pink one, while both his feet--which showed through the open sandals he wore--were jet black. Betsy could not decide whether these gorgeous colors were dyes or the natural tints of the skin, but while she was thinking it over the man who had been called "Tubekins" said: "Follow me to the Residence--all of you!" But just then a Voice exclaimed: "Here's another of them, Tubekins, lying in the water of the fountain." [Illustration] "Gracious!" cried Betsy; "it must be Tik-Tok, and he'll drown." "Water is a bad thing for his clockworks, anyhow," agreed Shaggy, as with one accord they all started for the fountain. But before they could reach it, invisible hands raised Tik-Tok from the marble basin and set him upon his feet beside it, water dripping from every joint of his copper body. "Ma--ny tha--tha--tha--thanks!" he said; and then his copper jaws clicked together and he could say no more. He next made an attempt to walk but after several awkward trials found he could not move his joints. Peals of jeering laughter from persons unseen greeted Tik-Tok's failure, and the new arrivals in this strange land found it very uncomfortable to realize that there were many creatures around them who were invisible, yet could be heard plainly. "Shall I wind him up?" asked Betsy, feeling very sorry for Tik-Tok. "I think his machinery is wound; but he needs oiling," replied Shaggy. At once an oil-can appeared before him, held on a level with his eyes by some unseen hand.

likewise

How many times the word 'likewise' appears in the text?

to ask the important question. She dropped to her knees, facing the flowers, and extended both her arms pleadingly toward them. "Tell me, pretty cousins," she said in her sweet, gentle voice, "which way will lead us to the Kingdom of Ruggedo, the Nome King?" At once all the stems bent gracefully to the right and the flower heads nodded once--twice--thrice in that direction. "That's it!" cried Files joyfully. "Now we know the way." Ozga rose to her feet and looked wonderingly at the field-flowers, which had now resumed their upright position. "Was it the wind, do you think?" she asked in a low whisper. "No, indeed," replied Files. "There is not a breath of wind stirring. But these lovely blossoms are indeed your cousins and answered your question at once, as I knew they would." [Illustration] CHAPTER 9 Ruggedo's Rage is Rash and Reckless The way taken by the adventurers led up hill and down dale and wound here and there in a fashion that seemed aimless. But always it drew nearer to a range of low mountains and Files said more than once that he was certain the entrance to Ruggedo's cavern would be found among these rugged hills. In this he was quite correct. Far underneath the nearest mountain was a gorgeous chamber hollowed from the solid rock, the walls and roof of which glittered with thousands of magnificent jewels. Here, on a throne of virgin gold, sat the famous Nome King, dressed in splendid robes and wearing a superb crown cut from a single blood-red ruby. Ruggedo, the Monarch of all the Metals and Precious Stones of the Underground World, was a round little man with a flowing white beard, a red face, bright eyes and a scowl that covered all his forehead. One would think, to look at him, that he ought to be jolly; one might think, considering his enormous wealth, that he ought to be happy; but this was not the case. The Metal Monarch was surly and cross because mortals had dug so much treasure out of the earth and kept it above ground, where all the power of Ruggedo and his nomes was unable to recover it. He hated not only the mortals but also the fairies who live upon the earth or above it, and instead of being content with the riches he still possessed he was unhappy because he did not own all the gold and jewels in the world. Ruggedo had been nodding, half asleep, in his chair when suddenly he sat upright uttered a roar of rage and began pounding upon a huge gong that stood beside him. The sound filled the vast cavern and penetrated to many caverns beyond, where countless thousands of nomes were working at their unending tasks, hammering out gold and silver and other metals, or melting ores in great furnaces, or polishing glittering gems. The nomes trembled at the sound of the King's gong and whispered fearfully to one another that something unpleasant was sure to happen; but none dared pause in his task. The heavy curtains of cloth-of-gold were pushed aside and Kaliko, the King's High Chamberlain, entered the royal presence. "What's up, Your Majesty?" he asked, with a wide yawn, for he had just wakened. "Up?" roared Ruggedo, stamping his foot viciously. "Those foolish mortals are up, that's what! And they want to come down." "Down here?" inquired Kaliko. "Yes!" "How do you know?" continued the Chamberlain, yawning again. "I feel it in my bones," said Ruggedo. "I can always feel it when those hateful earth-crawlers draw near to my Kingdom. I am positive, Kaliko, that mortals are this very minute on their way here to annoy me--and I hate mortals more than I do catnip tea!" "Well, what's to be done?" demanded the nome. "Look through your spyglass, and see where the invaders are," commanded the King. So Kaliko went to a tube in the wall of rock and put his eye to it. The tube ran from the cavern up to the side of the mountain and turned several curves and corners, but as it was a magic spyglass Kaliko was able to see through it just as easily as if it had been straight. "Ho--hum," said he. "I see 'em, Your Majesty." "What do they look like?" inquired the Monarch. "That's a hard question to answer, for a queerer assortment of creatures I never yet beheld," replied the nome. "However, such a collection of curiosities may prove dangerous. There's a copper man, worked by machinery--" "Bah! that's only Tik-Tok," said Ruggedo. "I'm not afraid of him. Why, only the other day I met the fellow and threw him down a well." "Then some one must have pulled him out again," said Kaliko. "And there's a little girl--" "Dorothy?" asked Ruggedo, jumping up in fear. "No; some other girl. In fact, there are several girls, of various sizes; but Dorothy is not with them, nor is Ozma." "That's good!" exclaimed the King, sighing in relief. Kaliko still had his eye to the spyglass. "I see," said he, "an army of men from Oogaboo. They are all officers and carry swords. And there is a Shaggy Man--who seems very harmless--and a little donkey with big ears." "Pooh!" cried Ruggedo, snapping his fingers in scorn. "I've no fear of such a mob as that. A dozen of my nomes can destroy them all in a jiffy." "I'm not so sure of that," said Kaliko. "The people of Oogaboo are hard to destroy, and I believe the Rose Princess is a fairy. As for Polychrome, you know very well that the Rainbow's Daughter cannot be injured by a nome." "Polychrome! Is she among them?" asked the King. "Yes; I have just recognized her." "Then these people are coming here on no peaceful errand," declared Ruggedo, scowling fiercely. "In fact, no one ever comes here on a peaceful errand. I hate everybody, and everybody hates me!" "Very true," said Kaliko. "I must in some way prevent these people from reaching my dominions. Where are they now?" "Just now they are crossing the Rubber Country, Your Majesty." "Good! Are your magnetic rubber wires in working order?" "I think so," replied Kaliko. "Is it your Royal Will that we have some fun with these invaders?" "It is," answered Ruggedo. "I want to teach them a lesson they will never forget." Now, Shaggy had no idea that he was in a Rubber Country, nor had any of his companions. They noticed that everything around them was of a dull gray color and that the path upon which they walked was soft and springy, yet they had no suspicion that the rocks and trees were rubber and even the path they trod was made of rubber. Presently they came to a brook where sparkling water dashed through a deep channel and rushed away between high rocks far down the mountain-side. Across the brook were stepping-stones, so placed that travelers might easily leap from one to another and in that manner cross the water to the farther bank. Tik-Tok was marching ahead, followed by his officers and Queen Ann. After them came Betsy Bobbin and Hank, Polychrome and Shaggy, and last of all the Rose Princess with Files. The Clockwork Man saw the stream and the stepping-stones and, without making a pause, placed his foot upon the first stone. The result was astonishing. First he sank down in the soft rubber, which then rebounded and sent Tik-Tok soaring high in the air, where he turned a succession of flip-flops and alighted upon a rubber rock far in the rear of the party. General Apple did not see Tik-Tok bound, so quickly had he disappeared; therefore he also stepped upon the stone (which you will guess was connected with Kaliko's magnetic rubber wire) and instantly shot upward like an arrow. General Cone came next and met with a like fate, but the others now noticed that something was wrong and with one accord they halted the column and looked back along the path. There was Tik-Tok, still bounding from one rubber rock to another, each time rising a less distance from the ground. And there was General Apple, bounding away in another direction, his three-cornered hat jammed over his eyes and his long sword thumping him upon the arms and head as it swung this way and that. And there, also, appeared General Cone, who had struck a rubber rock headforemost and was so crumpled up that his round body looked more like a bouncing-ball than the form of a man. Betsy laughed merrily at the strange sight and Polychrome echoed her laughter. But Ozga was grave and wondering, while Queen Ann became angry at seeing the chief officers of the Army of Oogaboo bounding around in so undignified a manner. She shouted to them to stop, but they were unable to obey, even though they would have been glad to do so. Finally, however, they all ceased bounding and managed to get upon their feet and rejoin the Army. "Why did you do that?" demanded Ann, who seemed greatly provoked. "Don't ask them why," said Shaggy earnestly. "I knew you would ask them why, but you ought not to do it. The reason is plain. Those stones are rubber; therefore they are not stones. Those rocks around us are rubber, and therefore they are not rocks. Even this path is not a path; it's rubber. Unless we are very careful, your Majesty, we are all likely to get the bounce, just as your poor officers and Tik-Tok did." [Illustration] "Then let's be careful," remarked Files, who was full of wisdom; but Polychrome wanted to test the quality of the rubber, so she began dancing. Every step sent her higher and higher into the air, so that she resembled a big butterfly fluttering lightly. Presently she made a great bound and bounded way across the stream, landing lightly and steadily on the other side. "There is no rubber over here," she called to them. "Suppose you all try to bound over the stream, without touching the stepping-stones." Ann and her officers were reluctant to undertake such a risky adventure, but Betsy at once grasped the value of the suggestion and began jumping up and down until she found herself bounding almost as high as Polychrome had done. Then she suddenly leaned forward and the next bound took her easily across the brook, where she alighted by the side of the Rainbow's Daughter. "Come on, Hank!" called the girl, and the donkey tried to obey. He managed to bound pretty high but when he tried to bound across the stream he misjudged the distance and fell with a splash into the middle of the water. "Hee-haw!" he wailed, struggling toward the far bank. Betsy rushed forward to help him out, but when the mule stood safely beside her she was amazed to find he was not wet at all. "It's dry water," said Polychrome, dipping her hand into the stream and showing how the water fell from it and left it perfectly dry. "In that case," returned Betsy, "they can all walk through the water." She called to Ozga and Shaggy to wade across, assuring them the water was shallow and would not wet them. At once they followed her advice, avoiding the rubber stepping-stones, and made the crossing with ease. This encouraged the entire party to wade through the dry water, and in a few minutes all had assembled on the bank and renewed their journey along the path that led to the Nome King's dominions. When Kaliko again looked through his magic spyglass he exclaimed: "Bad luck, Your Majesty! All the invaders have passed the Rubber Country and now are fast approaching the entrance to your caverns." Ruggedo raved and stormed at the news and his anger was so great that several times, as he strode up and down his jeweled cavern, he paused to kick Kaliko upon his shins, which were so sensitive that the poor nome howled with pain. Finally the King said: "There's no help for it; we must drop these audacious invaders down the Hollow Tube." Kaliko gave a jump, at this, and looked at his master wonderingly. "If you do that, Your Majesty," he said, "you will make Tititi-Hoochoo very angry." "Never mind that," retorted Ruggedo. "Tititi-Hoochoo lives on the other side of the world, so what do I care for his anger?" Kaliko shuddered and uttered a little groan. "Remember his terrible powers," he pleaded, "and remember that he warned you, the last time you slid people through the Hollow Tube, that if you did it again he would take vengeance upon you." The Metal Monarch walked up and down in silence, thinking deeply. "Of two dangers," said he, "it is wise to choose the least. What do you suppose these invaders want?" "Let the Long-Eared Hearer listen to them," suggested Kaliko. "Call him here at once!" commanded Ruggedo eagerly. So in a few minutes there entered the cavern a nome with enormous ears, who bowed low before the King. "Strangers are approaching," said Ruggedo, "and I wish to know their errand. Listen carefully to their talk and tell me why they are coming here, and what for." The nome bowed again and spread out his great ears, swaying them gently up and down and back and forth. For half an hour he stood silent, in an attitude of listening, while both the King and Kaliko grew impatient at the delay. At last the Long-Eared Hearer spoke: [Illustration] "Shaggy Man is coming here to rescue his brother from captivity," said he. "Ha, the Ugly One!" exclaimed Ruggedo. "Well, Shaggy Man may have his ugly brother, for all I care. He's too lazy to work and is always getting in my way. Where is the Ugly One now, Kaliko?" "The last time Your Majesty stumbled over the prisoner you commanded me to send him to the Metal Forest, which I did. I suppose he is still there." "Very good. The invaders will have a hard time finding the Metal Forest," said the King, with a grin of malicious delight, "for half the time I can't find it myself. Yet I created the forest and made every tree, out of gold and silver, so as to keep the precious metals in a safe place and out of the reach of mortals. But tell me, Hearer, do the strangers want anything else?" "Yes, indeed they do!" returned the nome. "The Army of Oogaboo is determined to capture all the rich metals and rare jewels in your kingdom, and the officers and their Queen have arranged to divide the spoils and carry them away." When he heard this Ruggedo uttered a bellow of rage and began dancing up and down, rolling his eyes, clicking his teeth together and swinging his arms furiously. Then, in an ecstasy of anger he seized the long ears of the Hearer and pulled and twisted them cruelly; but Kaliko grabbed up the King's sceptre and rapped him over the knuckles with it, so that Ruggedo let go the ears and began to chase his Royal Chamberlain around the throne. The Hearer took advantage of this opportunity to slip away from the cavern and escape, and after the King had tired himself out chasing Kaliko he threw himself into his throne and panted for breath, while he glared wickedly at his defiant subject. "You'd better save your strength to fight the enemy," suggested Kaliko. "There will be a terrible battle when the Army of Oogaboo gets here." "The Army won't get here," said the King, still coughing and panting. "I'll drop 'em down the Hollow Tube--every man Jack and every girl Jill of 'em!" "And defy Tititi-Hoochoo?" asked Kaliko. "Yes. Go at once to my Chief Magician and order him to turn the path toward the Hollow Tube, and to make the top of the Tube invisible, so they'll all fall into it." Kaliko went away shaking his head, for he thought Ruggedo was making a great mistake. He found the Magician and had the path twisted so that it led directly to the opening of the Hollow Tube, and this opening he made invisible. Having obeyed the orders of his master, the Royal Chamberlain went to his private room and began to write letters of recommendation of himself, stating that he was an honest man, a good servant and a small eater. "Pretty soon," he said to himself, "I shall have to look for another job, for it is certain that Ruggedo has ruined himself by this reckless defiance of the mighty Tititi-Hoochoo. And in seeking a job nothing is so effective as a letter of recommendation." [Illustration] [Illustration] CHAPTER 10 A Terrible Tumble Through a Tube I suppose that Polychrome, and perhaps Queen Ann and her Army, might have been able to dispel the enchantment of Ruggedo's Chief Magician had they known that danger lay in their pathway; for the Rainbow's Daughter was a fairy and as Oogaboo is a part of the Land of Oz its inhabitants cannot easily be deceived by such common magic as the Nome King could command. But no one suspected any especial danger until after they had entered Ruggedo's cavern, and so they were journeying along in quite a contented manner when Tik-Tok, who marched ahead, suddenly disappeared. The officers thought he must have turned a corner, so they kept on their way and all of them likewise disappeared--one after another. Queen Ann was rather surprised at this, and in hastening forward to learn the reason she also vanished from sight. Betsy Bobbin had tired her feet by walking, so she was now riding upon the back of the stout little mule, facing backward and talking to Shaggy and Polychrome, who were just behind. Suddenly Hank pitched forward and began falling and Betsy would have tumbled over his head had she not grabbed the mule's shaggy neck with both arms and held on for dear life. All around was darkness, and they were not falling directly downward but seemed to be sliding along a steep incline. Hank's hoofs were resting upon some smooth substance over which he slid with the swiftness of the wind. Once Betsy's heels flew up and struck a similar substance overhead. They were, indeed, descending the "Hollow Tube" that led to the other side of the world. "Stop, Hank--stop!" cried the girl; but Hank only uttered a plaintive "Hee-haw!" for it was impossible for him to obey. After several minutes had passed and no harm had befallen them, Betsy gained courage. She could see nothing at all, nor could she hear anything except the rush of air past her ears as they plunged downward along the Tube. Whether she and Hank were alone, or the others were with them, she could not tell. But had some one been able to take a flash-light photograph of the Tube at that time a most curious picture would have resulted. There was Tik-Tok, flat upon his back and sliding headforemost down the incline. And there were the Officers of the Army of Oogaboo, all tangled up in a confused crowd, flapping their arms and trying to shield their faces from the clanking swords, which swung back and forth during the swift journey and pommeled everyone within their reach. Now followed Queen Ann, who had struck the Tube in a sitting position and went flying along with a dash and abandon that thoroughly bewildered the poor lady, who had no idea what had happened to her. Then, a little distance away, but unseen by the others in the inky darkness, slid Betsy and Hank, while behind them were Shaggy and Polychrome and finally Files and the Princess. When first they tumbled into the Tube all were too dazed to think clearly, but the trip was a long one, because the cavity led straight through the earth to a place just opposite the Nome King's dominions, and long before the adventurers got to the end they had begun to recover their wits. "This is awful, Hank!" cried Betsy in a loud voice, and Queen Ann heard her and called out: "Are you safe, Betsy?" "Mercy, no!" answered the little girl. "How could anyone be safe when she's going about sixty miles a minute?" Then, after a pause, she added: "But where do you s'pose we're going to, Your Maj'sty?" "Don't ask her that, please don't!" said Shaggy, who was not too far away to overhear them. "And please don't ask me why, either." "Why?" said Betsy. "No one can tell where we are going until we get there," replied Shaggy, and then he yelled "Ouch!" for Polychrome had overtaken him and was now sitting on his head. The Rainbow's Daughter laughed merrily, and so infectious was this joyous laugh that Betsy echoed it and Hank said "Hee-haw!" in a mild and sympathetic tone of voice. "I'd like to know where and when we'll arrive, just the same," exclaimed the little girl. "Be patient and you'll find out, my dear," said Polychrome. "But isn't this an odd experience? Here am I, whose home is in the skies, making a journey through the center of the earth--where I never expected to be!" "How do you know we're in the center of the earth?" asked Betsy, her voice trembling a little through nervousness. "Why, we can't be anywhere else," replied Polychrome. "I have often heard of this passage, which was once built by a Magician who was a great traveler. He thought it would save him the bother of going around the earth's surface, but he tumbled through the Tube so fast that he shot out at the other end and hit a star in the sky, which at once exploded." "The star exploded?" asked Betsy wonderingly. "Yes; the Magician hit it so hard." "And what became of the Magician?" inquired the girl. "No one knows that," answered Polychrome. "But I don't think it matters much." "It matters a good deal, if we also hit the stars when we come out," said Queen Ann, with a moan. "Don't worry," advised Polychrome. "I believe the Magician was going the other way, and probably he went much faster than we are going." "It's fast enough to suit me," remarked Shaggy, gently removing Polychrome's heel from his left eye. "Couldn't you manage to fall all by yourself, my dear?" "I'll try," laughed the Rainbow's Daughter. All this time they were swiftly falling through the Tube, and it was not so easy for them to talk as you may imagine when you read their words. But although they were so helpless and altogether in the dark as to their fate, the fact that they were able to converse at all cheered them considerably. Files and Ozga were also conversing as they clung tightly to one another, and the young fellow bravely strove to reassure the Princess, although he was terribly frightened, both on her account and on his own. An hour, under such trying circumstances, is a very long time, and for more than an hour they continued their fearful journey. Then, just as they began to fear the Tube would never end, Tik-Tok popped out into broad daylight and, after making a graceful circle in the air, fell with a splash into a great marble fountain. Out came the officers, in quick succession, tumbling heels over head and striking the ground in many undignified attitudes. "For the love of sassafras!" exclaimed a Peculiar Person who was hoeing pink violets in a garden. "What can all this mean?" For answer, Queen Ann sailed up from the Tube, took a ride through the air as high as the treetops, and alighted squarely on top of the Peculiar Person's head, smashing a jeweled crown over his eyes and tumbling him to the ground. The mule was heavier and had Betsy clinging to his back, so he did not go so high up. Fortunately for his little rider he struck the ground upon his four feet. Betsy was jarred a trifle but not hurt and when she looked around her she saw the Queen and the Peculiar Person struggling together upon the ground, where the man was trying to choke Ann and she had both hands in his bushy hair and was pulling with all her might. Some of the officers, when they got upon their feet, hastened to separate the combatants and sought to restrain the Peculiar Person so that he could not attack their Queen again. [Illustration] By this time, Shaggy, Polychrome, Ozga and Files had all arrived and were curiously examining the strange country in which they found themselves and which they knew to be exactly on the opposite side of the world from the place where they had fallen into the Tube. It was a lovely place, indeed, and seemed to be the garden of some great Prince, for through the vistas of trees and shrubbery could be seen the towers of an immense castle. But as yet the only inhabitant to greet them was the Peculiar Person just mentioned, who had shaken off the grasp of the officers without effort and was now trying to pull the battered crown from off his eyes. Shaggy, who was always polite, helped him to do this and when the man was free and could see again he looked at his visitors with evident amazement. "Well, well, well!" he exclaimed. "Where did you come from and how did you get here?" Betsy tried to answer him, for Queen Ann was surly and silent. "I can't say, exac'ly where we came from, 'cause I don't know the name of the place," said the girl, "but the way we got here was through the Hollow Tube." "Don't call it a 'hollow' Tube, please," exclaimed the Peculiar Person in an irritated tone of voice. "If it's a tube, it's sure to be hollow." "Why?" asked Betsy. "Because all tubes are made that way. But this Tube is private property and everyone is forbidden to fall into it." "We didn't do it on purpose," explained Betsy, and Polychrome added: "I am quite sure that Ruggedo, the Nome King, pushed us down that Tube." "Ha! Ruggedo! Did you say Ruggedo?" cried the man, becoming much excited. "That is what she said," replied Shaggy, "and I believe she is right. We were on our way to conquer the Nome King when suddenly we fell into the Tube." "Then you are enemies of Ruggedo?" inquired the Peculiar Person. "Not exac'ly enemies," said Betsy, a little puzzled by the question, "'cause we don't know him at all; but we started out to conquer him, which isn't as friendly as it might be." "True," agreed the man. He looked thoughtfully from one to another of them for a while and then he turned his head over his shoulder and said: "Never mind the fire and pincers, my good brothers. It will be best to take these strangers to the Private Citizen." "Very well, Tubekins," responded a Voice, deep and powerful, that seemed to come out of the air, for the speaker was invisible. All our friends gave a jump, at this. Even Polychrome was so startled that her gauze draperies fluttered like a banner in a breeze. Shaggy shook his head and sighed; Queen Ann looked very unhappy; the officers clung to each other, trembling violently. But soon they gained courage to look more closely at the Peculiar Person. As he was a type of all the inhabitants of this extraordinary land whom they afterward met, I will try to tell you what he looked like. His face was beautiful, but lacked expression. His eyes were large and blue in color and his teeth finely formed and white as snow. His hair was black and bushy and seemed inclined to curl at the ends. So far no one could find any fault with his appearance. He wore a robe of scarlet, which did not cover his arms and extended no lower than his bare knees. On the bosom of the robe was embroidered a terrible dragon's head, as horrible to look at as the man was beautiful. His arms and legs were left bare and the skin of one arm was bright yellow and the skin of the other arm a vivid green. He had one blue leg and one pink one, while both his feet--which showed through the open sandals he wore--were jet black. Betsy could not decide whether these gorgeous colors were dyes or the natural tints of the skin, but while she was thinking it over the man who had been called "Tubekins" said: "Follow me to the Residence--all of you!" But just then a Voice exclaimed: "Here's another of them, Tubekins, lying in the water of the fountain." [Illustration] "Gracious!" cried Betsy; "it must be Tik-Tok, and he'll drown." "Water is a bad thing for his clockworks, anyhow," agreed Shaggy, as with one accord they all started for the fountain. But before they could reach it, invisible hands raised Tik-Tok from the marble basin and set him upon his feet beside it, water dripping from every joint of his copper body. "Ma--ny tha--tha--tha--thanks!" he said; and then his copper jaws clicked together and he could say no more. He next made an attempt to walk but after several awkward trials found he could not move his joints. Peals of jeering laughter from persons unseen greeted Tik-Tok's failure, and the new arrivals in this strange land found it very uncomfortable to realize that there were many creatures around them who were invisible, yet could be heard plainly. "Shall I wind him up?" asked Betsy, feeling very sorry for Tik-Tok. "I think his machinery is wound; but he needs oiling," replied Shaggy. At once an oil-can appeared before him, held on a level with his eyes by some unseen hand.

instantly

How many times the word 'instantly' appears in the text?

to ask the important question. She dropped to her knees, facing the flowers, and extended both her arms pleadingly toward them. "Tell me, pretty cousins," she said in her sweet, gentle voice, "which way will lead us to the Kingdom of Ruggedo, the Nome King?" At once all the stems bent gracefully to the right and the flower heads nodded once--twice--thrice in that direction. "That's it!" cried Files joyfully. "Now we know the way." Ozga rose to her feet and looked wonderingly at the field-flowers, which had now resumed their upright position. "Was it the wind, do you think?" she asked in a low whisper. "No, indeed," replied Files. "There is not a breath of wind stirring. But these lovely blossoms are indeed your cousins and answered your question at once, as I knew they would." [Illustration] CHAPTER 9 Ruggedo's Rage is Rash and Reckless The way taken by the adventurers led up hill and down dale and wound here and there in a fashion that seemed aimless. But always it drew nearer to a range of low mountains and Files said more than once that he was certain the entrance to Ruggedo's cavern would be found among these rugged hills. In this he was quite correct. Far underneath the nearest mountain was a gorgeous chamber hollowed from the solid rock, the walls and roof of which glittered with thousands of magnificent jewels. Here, on a throne of virgin gold, sat the famous Nome King, dressed in splendid robes and wearing a superb crown cut from a single blood-red ruby. Ruggedo, the Monarch of all the Metals and Precious Stones of the Underground World, was a round little man with a flowing white beard, a red face, bright eyes and a scowl that covered all his forehead. One would think, to look at him, that he ought to be jolly; one might think, considering his enormous wealth, that he ought to be happy; but this was not the case. The Metal Monarch was surly and cross because mortals had dug so much treasure out of the earth and kept it above ground, where all the power of Ruggedo and his nomes was unable to recover it. He hated not only the mortals but also the fairies who live upon the earth or above it, and instead of being content with the riches he still possessed he was unhappy because he did not own all the gold and jewels in the world. Ruggedo had been nodding, half asleep, in his chair when suddenly he sat upright uttered a roar of rage and began pounding upon a huge gong that stood beside him. The sound filled the vast cavern and penetrated to many caverns beyond, where countless thousands of nomes were working at their unending tasks, hammering out gold and silver and other metals, or melting ores in great furnaces, or polishing glittering gems. The nomes trembled at the sound of the King's gong and whispered fearfully to one another that something unpleasant was sure to happen; but none dared pause in his task. The heavy curtains of cloth-of-gold were pushed aside and Kaliko, the King's High Chamberlain, entered the royal presence. "What's up, Your Majesty?" he asked, with a wide yawn, for he had just wakened. "Up?" roared Ruggedo, stamping his foot viciously. "Those foolish mortals are up, that's what! And they want to come down." "Down here?" inquired Kaliko. "Yes!" "How do you know?" continued the Chamberlain, yawning again. "I feel it in my bones," said Ruggedo. "I can always feel it when those hateful earth-crawlers draw near to my Kingdom. I am positive, Kaliko, that mortals are this very minute on their way here to annoy me--and I hate mortals more than I do catnip tea!" "Well, what's to be done?" demanded the nome. "Look through your spyglass, and see where the invaders are," commanded the King. So Kaliko went to a tube in the wall of rock and put his eye to it. The tube ran from the cavern up to the side of the mountain and turned several curves and corners, but as it was a magic spyglass Kaliko was able to see through it just as easily as if it had been straight. "Ho--hum," said he. "I see 'em, Your Majesty." "What do they look like?" inquired the Monarch. "That's a hard question to answer, for a queerer assortment of creatures I never yet beheld," replied the nome. "However, such a collection of curiosities may prove dangerous. There's a copper man, worked by machinery--" "Bah! that's only Tik-Tok," said Ruggedo. "I'm not afraid of him. Why, only the other day I met the fellow and threw him down a well." "Then some one must have pulled him out again," said Kaliko. "And there's a little girl--" "Dorothy?" asked Ruggedo, jumping up in fear. "No; some other girl. In fact, there are several girls, of various sizes; but Dorothy is not with them, nor is Ozma." "That's good!" exclaimed the King, sighing in relief. Kaliko still had his eye to the spyglass. "I see," said he, "an army of men from Oogaboo. They are all officers and carry swords. And there is a Shaggy Man--who seems very harmless--and a little donkey with big ears." "Pooh!" cried Ruggedo, snapping his fingers in scorn. "I've no fear of such a mob as that. A dozen of my nomes can destroy them all in a jiffy." "I'm not so sure of that," said Kaliko. "The people of Oogaboo are hard to destroy, and I believe the Rose Princess is a fairy. As for Polychrome, you know very well that the Rainbow's Daughter cannot be injured by a nome." "Polychrome! Is she among them?" asked the King. "Yes; I have just recognized her." "Then these people are coming here on no peaceful errand," declared Ruggedo, scowling fiercely. "In fact, no one ever comes here on a peaceful errand. I hate everybody, and everybody hates me!" "Very true," said Kaliko. "I must in some way prevent these people from reaching my dominions. Where are they now?" "Just now they are crossing the Rubber Country, Your Majesty." "Good! Are your magnetic rubber wires in working order?" "I think so," replied Kaliko. "Is it your Royal Will that we have some fun with these invaders?" "It is," answered Ruggedo. "I want to teach them a lesson they will never forget." Now, Shaggy had no idea that he was in a Rubber Country, nor had any of his companions. They noticed that everything around them was of a dull gray color and that the path upon which they walked was soft and springy, yet they had no suspicion that the rocks and trees were rubber and even the path they trod was made of rubber. Presently they came to a brook where sparkling water dashed through a deep channel and rushed away between high rocks far down the mountain-side. Across the brook were stepping-stones, so placed that travelers might easily leap from one to another and in that manner cross the water to the farther bank. Tik-Tok was marching ahead, followed by his officers and Queen Ann. After them came Betsy Bobbin and Hank, Polychrome and Shaggy, and last of all the Rose Princess with Files. The Clockwork Man saw the stream and the stepping-stones and, without making a pause, placed his foot upon the first stone. The result was astonishing. First he sank down in the soft rubber, which then rebounded and sent Tik-Tok soaring high in the air, where he turned a succession of flip-flops and alighted upon a rubber rock far in the rear of the party. General Apple did not see Tik-Tok bound, so quickly had he disappeared; therefore he also stepped upon the stone (which you will guess was connected with Kaliko's magnetic rubber wire) and instantly shot upward like an arrow. General Cone came next and met with a like fate, but the others now noticed that something was wrong and with one accord they halted the column and looked back along the path. There was Tik-Tok, still bounding from one rubber rock to another, each time rising a less distance from the ground. And there was General Apple, bounding away in another direction, his three-cornered hat jammed over his eyes and his long sword thumping him upon the arms and head as it swung this way and that. And there, also, appeared General Cone, who had struck a rubber rock headforemost and was so crumpled up that his round body looked more like a bouncing-ball than the form of a man. Betsy laughed merrily at the strange sight and Polychrome echoed her laughter. But Ozga was grave and wondering, while Queen Ann became angry at seeing the chief officers of the Army of Oogaboo bounding around in so undignified a manner. She shouted to them to stop, but they were unable to obey, even though they would have been glad to do so. Finally, however, they all ceased bounding and managed to get upon their feet and rejoin the Army. "Why did you do that?" demanded Ann, who seemed greatly provoked. "Don't ask them why," said Shaggy earnestly. "I knew you would ask them why, but you ought not to do it. The reason is plain. Those stones are rubber; therefore they are not stones. Those rocks around us are rubber, and therefore they are not rocks. Even this path is not a path; it's rubber. Unless we are very careful, your Majesty, we are all likely to get the bounce, just as your poor officers and Tik-Tok did." [Illustration] "Then let's be careful," remarked Files, who was full of wisdom; but Polychrome wanted to test the quality of the rubber, so she began dancing. Every step sent her higher and higher into the air, so that she resembled a big butterfly fluttering lightly. Presently she made a great bound and bounded way across the stream, landing lightly and steadily on the other side. "There is no rubber over here," she called to them. "Suppose you all try to bound over the stream, without touching the stepping-stones." Ann and her officers were reluctant to undertake such a risky adventure, but Betsy at once grasped the value of the suggestion and began jumping up and down until she found herself bounding almost as high as Polychrome had done. Then she suddenly leaned forward and the next bound took her easily across the brook, where she alighted by the side of the Rainbow's Daughter. "Come on, Hank!" called the girl, and the donkey tried to obey. He managed to bound pretty high but when he tried to bound across the stream he misjudged the distance and fell with a splash into the middle of the water. "Hee-haw!" he wailed, struggling toward the far bank. Betsy rushed forward to help him out, but when the mule stood safely beside her she was amazed to find he was not wet at all. "It's dry water," said Polychrome, dipping her hand into the stream and showing how the water fell from it and left it perfectly dry. "In that case," returned Betsy, "they can all walk through the water." She called to Ozga and Shaggy to wade across, assuring them the water was shallow and would not wet them. At once they followed her advice, avoiding the rubber stepping-stones, and made the crossing with ease. This encouraged the entire party to wade through the dry water, and in a few minutes all had assembled on the bank and renewed their journey along the path that led to the Nome King's dominions. When Kaliko again looked through his magic spyglass he exclaimed: "Bad luck, Your Majesty! All the invaders have passed the Rubber Country and now are fast approaching the entrance to your caverns." Ruggedo raved and stormed at the news and his anger was so great that several times, as he strode up and down his jeweled cavern, he paused to kick Kaliko upon his shins, which were so sensitive that the poor nome howled with pain. Finally the King said: "There's no help for it; we must drop these audacious invaders down the Hollow Tube." Kaliko gave a jump, at this, and looked at his master wonderingly. "If you do that, Your Majesty," he said, "you will make Tititi-Hoochoo very angry." "Never mind that," retorted Ruggedo. "Tititi-Hoochoo lives on the other side of the world, so what do I care for his anger?" Kaliko shuddered and uttered a little groan. "Remember his terrible powers," he pleaded, "and remember that he warned you, the last time you slid people through the Hollow Tube, that if you did it again he would take vengeance upon you." The Metal Monarch walked up and down in silence, thinking deeply. "Of two dangers," said he, "it is wise to choose the least. What do you suppose these invaders want?" "Let the Long-Eared Hearer listen to them," suggested Kaliko. "Call him here at once!" commanded Ruggedo eagerly. So in a few minutes there entered the cavern a nome with enormous ears, who bowed low before the King. "Strangers are approaching," said Ruggedo, "and I wish to know their errand. Listen carefully to their talk and tell me why they are coming here, and what for." The nome bowed again and spread out his great ears, swaying them gently up and down and back and forth. For half an hour he stood silent, in an attitude of listening, while both the King and Kaliko grew impatient at the delay. At last the Long-Eared Hearer spoke: [Illustration] "Shaggy Man is coming here to rescue his brother from captivity," said he. "Ha, the Ugly One!" exclaimed Ruggedo. "Well, Shaggy Man may have his ugly brother, for all I care. He's too lazy to work and is always getting in my way. Where is the Ugly One now, Kaliko?" "The last time Your Majesty stumbled over the prisoner you commanded me to send him to the Metal Forest, which I did. I suppose he is still there." "Very good. The invaders will have a hard time finding the Metal Forest," said the King, with a grin of malicious delight, "for half the time I can't find it myself. Yet I created the forest and made every tree, out of gold and silver, so as to keep the precious metals in a safe place and out of the reach of mortals. But tell me, Hearer, do the strangers want anything else?" "Yes, indeed they do!" returned the nome. "The Army of Oogaboo is determined to capture all the rich metals and rare jewels in your kingdom, and the officers and their Queen have arranged to divide the spoils and carry them away." When he heard this Ruggedo uttered a bellow of rage and began dancing up and down, rolling his eyes, clicking his teeth together and swinging his arms furiously. Then, in an ecstasy of anger he seized the long ears of the Hearer and pulled and twisted them cruelly; but Kaliko grabbed up the King's sceptre and rapped him over the knuckles with it, so that Ruggedo let go the ears and began to chase his Royal Chamberlain around the throne. The Hearer took advantage of this opportunity to slip away from the cavern and escape, and after the King had tired himself out chasing Kaliko he threw himself into his throne and panted for breath, while he glared wickedly at his defiant subject. "You'd better save your strength to fight the enemy," suggested Kaliko. "There will be a terrible battle when the Army of Oogaboo gets here." "The Army won't get here," said the King, still coughing and panting. "I'll drop 'em down the Hollow Tube--every man Jack and every girl Jill of 'em!" "And defy Tititi-Hoochoo?" asked Kaliko. "Yes. Go at once to my Chief Magician and order him to turn the path toward the Hollow Tube, and to make the top of the Tube invisible, so they'll all fall into it." Kaliko went away shaking his head, for he thought Ruggedo was making a great mistake. He found the Magician and had the path twisted so that it led directly to the opening of the Hollow Tube, and this opening he made invisible. Having obeyed the orders of his master, the Royal Chamberlain went to his private room and began to write letters of recommendation of himself, stating that he was an honest man, a good servant and a small eater. "Pretty soon," he said to himself, "I shall have to look for another job, for it is certain that Ruggedo has ruined himself by this reckless defiance of the mighty Tititi-Hoochoo. And in seeking a job nothing is so effective as a letter of recommendation." [Illustration] [Illustration] CHAPTER 10 A Terrible Tumble Through a Tube I suppose that Polychrome, and perhaps Queen Ann and her Army, might have been able to dispel the enchantment of Ruggedo's Chief Magician had they known that danger lay in their pathway; for the Rainbow's Daughter was a fairy and as Oogaboo is a part of the Land of Oz its inhabitants cannot easily be deceived by such common magic as the Nome King could command. But no one suspected any especial danger until after they had entered Ruggedo's cavern, and so they were journeying along in quite a contented manner when Tik-Tok, who marched ahead, suddenly disappeared. The officers thought he must have turned a corner, so they kept on their way and all of them likewise disappeared--one after another. Queen Ann was rather surprised at this, and in hastening forward to learn the reason she also vanished from sight. Betsy Bobbin had tired her feet by walking, so she was now riding upon the back of the stout little mule, facing backward and talking to Shaggy and Polychrome, who were just behind. Suddenly Hank pitched forward and began falling and Betsy would have tumbled over his head had she not grabbed the mule's shaggy neck with both arms and held on for dear life. All around was darkness, and they were not falling directly downward but seemed to be sliding along a steep incline. Hank's hoofs were resting upon some smooth substance over which he slid with the swiftness of the wind. Once Betsy's heels flew up and struck a similar substance overhead. They were, indeed, descending the "Hollow Tube" that led to the other side of the world. "Stop, Hank--stop!" cried the girl; but Hank only uttered a plaintive "Hee-haw!" for it was impossible for him to obey. After several minutes had passed and no harm had befallen them, Betsy gained courage. She could see nothing at all, nor could she hear anything except the rush of air past her ears as they plunged downward along the Tube. Whether she and Hank were alone, or the others were with them, she could not tell. But had some one been able to take a flash-light photograph of the Tube at that time a most curious picture would have resulted. There was Tik-Tok, flat upon his back and sliding headforemost down the incline. And there were the Officers of the Army of Oogaboo, all tangled up in a confused crowd, flapping their arms and trying to shield their faces from the clanking swords, which swung back and forth during the swift journey and pommeled everyone within their reach. Now followed Queen Ann, who had struck the Tube in a sitting position and went flying along with a dash and abandon that thoroughly bewildered the poor lady, who had no idea what had happened to her. Then, a little distance away, but unseen by the others in the inky darkness, slid Betsy and Hank, while behind them were Shaggy and Polychrome and finally Files and the Princess. When first they tumbled into the Tube all were too dazed to think clearly, but the trip was a long one, because the cavity led straight through the earth to a place just opposite the Nome King's dominions, and long before the adventurers got to the end they had begun to recover their wits. "This is awful, Hank!" cried Betsy in a loud voice, and Queen Ann heard her and called out: "Are you safe, Betsy?" "Mercy, no!" answered the little girl. "How could anyone be safe when she's going about sixty miles a minute?" Then, after a pause, she added: "But where do you s'pose we're going to, Your Maj'sty?" "Don't ask her that, please don't!" said Shaggy, who was not too far away to overhear them. "And please don't ask me why, either." "Why?" said Betsy. "No one can tell where we are going until we get there," replied Shaggy, and then he yelled "Ouch!" for Polychrome had overtaken him and was now sitting on his head. The Rainbow's Daughter laughed merrily, and so infectious was this joyous laugh that Betsy echoed it and Hank said "Hee-haw!" in a mild and sympathetic tone of voice. "I'd like to know where and when we'll arrive, just the same," exclaimed the little girl. "Be patient and you'll find out, my dear," said Polychrome. "But isn't this an odd experience? Here am I, whose home is in the skies, making a journey through the center of the earth--where I never expected to be!" "How do you know we're in the center of the earth?" asked Betsy, her voice trembling a little through nervousness. "Why, we can't be anywhere else," replied Polychrome. "I have often heard of this passage, which was once built by a Magician who was a great traveler. He thought it would save him the bother of going around the earth's surface, but he tumbled through the Tube so fast that he shot out at the other end and hit a star in the sky, which at once exploded." "The star exploded?" asked Betsy wonderingly. "Yes; the Magician hit it so hard." "And what became of the Magician?" inquired the girl. "No one knows that," answered Polychrome. "But I don't think it matters much." "It matters a good deal, if we also hit the stars when we come out," said Queen Ann, with a moan. "Don't worry," advised Polychrome. "I believe the Magician was going the other way, and probably he went much faster than we are going." "It's fast enough to suit me," remarked Shaggy, gently removing Polychrome's heel from his left eye. "Couldn't you manage to fall all by yourself, my dear?" "I'll try," laughed the Rainbow's Daughter. All this time they were swiftly falling through the Tube, and it was not so easy for them to talk as you may imagine when you read their words. But although they were so helpless and altogether in the dark as to their fate, the fact that they were able to converse at all cheered them considerably. Files and Ozga were also conversing as they clung tightly to one another, and the young fellow bravely strove to reassure the Princess, although he was terribly frightened, both on her account and on his own. An hour, under such trying circumstances, is a very long time, and for more than an hour they continued their fearful journey. Then, just as they began to fear the Tube would never end, Tik-Tok popped out into broad daylight and, after making a graceful circle in the air, fell with a splash into a great marble fountain. Out came the officers, in quick succession, tumbling heels over head and striking the ground in many undignified attitudes. "For the love of sassafras!" exclaimed a Peculiar Person who was hoeing pink violets in a garden. "What can all this mean?" For answer, Queen Ann sailed up from the Tube, took a ride through the air as high as the treetops, and alighted squarely on top of the Peculiar Person's head, smashing a jeweled crown over his eyes and tumbling him to the ground. The mule was heavier and had Betsy clinging to his back, so he did not go so high up. Fortunately for his little rider he struck the ground upon his four feet. Betsy was jarred a trifle but not hurt and when she looked around her she saw the Queen and the Peculiar Person struggling together upon the ground, where the man was trying to choke Ann and she had both hands in his bushy hair and was pulling with all her might. Some of the officers, when they got upon their feet, hastened to separate the combatants and sought to restrain the Peculiar Person so that he could not attack their Queen again. [Illustration] By this time, Shaggy, Polychrome, Ozga and Files had all arrived and were curiously examining the strange country in which they found themselves and which they knew to be exactly on the opposite side of the world from the place where they had fallen into the Tube. It was a lovely place, indeed, and seemed to be the garden of some great Prince, for through the vistas of trees and shrubbery could be seen the towers of an immense castle. But as yet the only inhabitant to greet them was the Peculiar Person just mentioned, who had shaken off the grasp of the officers without effort and was now trying to pull the battered crown from off his eyes. Shaggy, who was always polite, helped him to do this and when the man was free and could see again he looked at his visitors with evident amazement. "Well, well, well!" he exclaimed. "Where did you come from and how did you get here?" Betsy tried to answer him, for Queen Ann was surly and silent. "I can't say, exac'ly where we came from, 'cause I don't know the name of the place," said the girl, "but the way we got here was through the Hollow Tube." "Don't call it a 'hollow' Tube, please," exclaimed the Peculiar Person in an irritated tone of voice. "If it's a tube, it's sure to be hollow." "Why?" asked Betsy. "Because all tubes are made that way. But this Tube is private property and everyone is forbidden to fall into it." "We didn't do it on purpose," explained Betsy, and Polychrome added: "I am quite sure that Ruggedo, the Nome King, pushed us down that Tube." "Ha! Ruggedo! Did you say Ruggedo?" cried the man, becoming much excited. "That is what she said," replied Shaggy, "and I believe she is right. We were on our way to conquer the Nome King when suddenly we fell into the Tube." "Then you are enemies of Ruggedo?" inquired the Peculiar Person. "Not exac'ly enemies," said Betsy, a little puzzled by the question, "'cause we don't know him at all; but we started out to conquer him, which isn't as friendly as it might be." "True," agreed the man. He looked thoughtfully from one to another of them for a while and then he turned his head over his shoulder and said: "Never mind the fire and pincers, my good brothers. It will be best to take these strangers to the Private Citizen." "Very well, Tubekins," responded a Voice, deep and powerful, that seemed to come out of the air, for the speaker was invisible. All our friends gave a jump, at this. Even Polychrome was so startled that her gauze draperies fluttered like a banner in a breeze. Shaggy shook his head and sighed; Queen Ann looked very unhappy; the officers clung to each other, trembling violently. But soon they gained courage to look more closely at the Peculiar Person. As he was a type of all the inhabitants of this extraordinary land whom they afterward met, I will try to tell you what he looked like. His face was beautiful, but lacked expression. His eyes were large and blue in color and his teeth finely formed and white as snow. His hair was black and bushy and seemed inclined to curl at the ends. So far no one could find any fault with his appearance. He wore a robe of scarlet, which did not cover his arms and extended no lower than his bare knees. On the bosom of the robe was embroidered a terrible dragon's head, as horrible to look at as the man was beautiful. His arms and legs were left bare and the skin of one arm was bright yellow and the skin of the other arm a vivid green. He had one blue leg and one pink one, while both his feet--which showed through the open sandals he wore--were jet black. Betsy could not decide whether these gorgeous colors were dyes or the natural tints of the skin, but while she was thinking it over the man who had been called "Tubekins" said: "Follow me to the Residence--all of you!" But just then a Voice exclaimed: "Here's another of them, Tubekins, lying in the water of the fountain." [Illustration] "Gracious!" cried Betsy; "it must be Tik-Tok, and he'll drown." "Water is a bad thing for his clockworks, anyhow," agreed Shaggy, as with one accord they all started for the fountain. But before they could reach it, invisible hands raised Tik-Tok from the marble basin and set him upon his feet beside it, water dripping from every joint of his copper body. "Ma--ny tha--tha--tha--thanks!" he said; and then his copper jaws clicked together and he could say no more. He next made an attempt to walk but after several awkward trials found he could not move his joints. Peals of jeering laughter from persons unseen greeted Tik-Tok's failure, and the new arrivals in this strange land found it very uncomfortable to realize that there were many creatures around them who were invisible, yet could be heard plainly. "Shall I wind him up?" asked Betsy, feeling very sorry for Tik-Tok. "I think his machinery is wound; but he needs oiling," replied Shaggy. At once an oil-can appeared before him, held on a level with his eyes by some unseen hand.

kindly

How many times the word 'kindly' appears in the text?

to ask the important question. She dropped to her knees, facing the flowers, and extended both her arms pleadingly toward them. "Tell me, pretty cousins," she said in her sweet, gentle voice, "which way will lead us to the Kingdom of Ruggedo, the Nome King?" At once all the stems bent gracefully to the right and the flower heads nodded once--twice--thrice in that direction. "That's it!" cried Files joyfully. "Now we know the way." Ozga rose to her feet and looked wonderingly at the field-flowers, which had now resumed their upright position. "Was it the wind, do you think?" she asked in a low whisper. "No, indeed," replied Files. "There is not a breath of wind stirring. But these lovely blossoms are indeed your cousins and answered your question at once, as I knew they would." [Illustration] CHAPTER 9 Ruggedo's Rage is Rash and Reckless The way taken by the adventurers led up hill and down dale and wound here and there in a fashion that seemed aimless. But always it drew nearer to a range of low mountains and Files said more than once that he was certain the entrance to Ruggedo's cavern would be found among these rugged hills. In this he was quite correct. Far underneath the nearest mountain was a gorgeous chamber hollowed from the solid rock, the walls and roof of which glittered with thousands of magnificent jewels. Here, on a throne of virgin gold, sat the famous Nome King, dressed in splendid robes and wearing a superb crown cut from a single blood-red ruby. Ruggedo, the Monarch of all the Metals and Precious Stones of the Underground World, was a round little man with a flowing white beard, a red face, bright eyes and a scowl that covered all his forehead. One would think, to look at him, that he ought to be jolly; one might think, considering his enormous wealth, that he ought to be happy; but this was not the case. The Metal Monarch was surly and cross because mortals had dug so much treasure out of the earth and kept it above ground, where all the power of Ruggedo and his nomes was unable to recover it. He hated not only the mortals but also the fairies who live upon the earth or above it, and instead of being content with the riches he still possessed he was unhappy because he did not own all the gold and jewels in the world. Ruggedo had been nodding, half asleep, in his chair when suddenly he sat upright uttered a roar of rage and began pounding upon a huge gong that stood beside him. The sound filled the vast cavern and penetrated to many caverns beyond, where countless thousands of nomes were working at their unending tasks, hammering out gold and silver and other metals, or melting ores in great furnaces, or polishing glittering gems. The nomes trembled at the sound of the King's gong and whispered fearfully to one another that something unpleasant was sure to happen; but none dared pause in his task. The heavy curtains of cloth-of-gold were pushed aside and Kaliko, the King's High Chamberlain, entered the royal presence. "What's up, Your Majesty?" he asked, with a wide yawn, for he had just wakened. "Up?" roared Ruggedo, stamping his foot viciously. "Those foolish mortals are up, that's what! And they want to come down." "Down here?" inquired Kaliko. "Yes!" "How do you know?" continued the Chamberlain, yawning again. "I feel it in my bones," said Ruggedo. "I can always feel it when those hateful earth-crawlers draw near to my Kingdom. I am positive, Kaliko, that mortals are this very minute on their way here to annoy me--and I hate mortals more than I do catnip tea!" "Well, what's to be done?" demanded the nome. "Look through your spyglass, and see where the invaders are," commanded the King. So Kaliko went to a tube in the wall of rock and put his eye to it. The tube ran from the cavern up to the side of the mountain and turned several curves and corners, but as it was a magic spyglass Kaliko was able to see through it just as easily as if it had been straight. "Ho--hum," said he. "I see 'em, Your Majesty." "What do they look like?" inquired the Monarch. "That's a hard question to answer, for a queerer assortment of creatures I never yet beheld," replied the nome. "However, such a collection of curiosities may prove dangerous. There's a copper man, worked by machinery--" "Bah! that's only Tik-Tok," said Ruggedo. "I'm not afraid of him. Why, only the other day I met the fellow and threw him down a well." "Then some one must have pulled him out again," said Kaliko. "And there's a little girl--" "Dorothy?" asked Ruggedo, jumping up in fear. "No; some other girl. In fact, there are several girls, of various sizes; but Dorothy is not with them, nor is Ozma." "That's good!" exclaimed the King, sighing in relief. Kaliko still had his eye to the spyglass. "I see," said he, "an army of men from Oogaboo. They are all officers and carry swords. And there is a Shaggy Man--who seems very harmless--and a little donkey with big ears." "Pooh!" cried Ruggedo, snapping his fingers in scorn. "I've no fear of such a mob as that. A dozen of my nomes can destroy them all in a jiffy." "I'm not so sure of that," said Kaliko. "The people of Oogaboo are hard to destroy, and I believe the Rose Princess is a fairy. As for Polychrome, you know very well that the Rainbow's Daughter cannot be injured by a nome." "Polychrome! Is she among them?" asked the King. "Yes; I have just recognized her." "Then these people are coming here on no peaceful errand," declared Ruggedo, scowling fiercely. "In fact, no one ever comes here on a peaceful errand. I hate everybody, and everybody hates me!" "Very true," said Kaliko. "I must in some way prevent these people from reaching my dominions. Where are they now?" "Just now they are crossing the Rubber Country, Your Majesty." "Good! Are your magnetic rubber wires in working order?" "I think so," replied Kaliko. "Is it your Royal Will that we have some fun with these invaders?" "It is," answered Ruggedo. "I want to teach them a lesson they will never forget." Now, Shaggy had no idea that he was in a Rubber Country, nor had any of his companions. They noticed that everything around them was of a dull gray color and that the path upon which they walked was soft and springy, yet they had no suspicion that the rocks and trees were rubber and even the path they trod was made of rubber. Presently they came to a brook where sparkling water dashed through a deep channel and rushed away between high rocks far down the mountain-side. Across the brook were stepping-stones, so placed that travelers might easily leap from one to another and in that manner cross the water to the farther bank. Tik-Tok was marching ahead, followed by his officers and Queen Ann. After them came Betsy Bobbin and Hank, Polychrome and Shaggy, and last of all the Rose Princess with Files. The Clockwork Man saw the stream and the stepping-stones and, without making a pause, placed his foot upon the first stone. The result was astonishing. First he sank down in the soft rubber, which then rebounded and sent Tik-Tok soaring high in the air, where he turned a succession of flip-flops and alighted upon a rubber rock far in the rear of the party. General Apple did not see Tik-Tok bound, so quickly had he disappeared; therefore he also stepped upon the stone (which you will guess was connected with Kaliko's magnetic rubber wire) and instantly shot upward like an arrow. General Cone came next and met with a like fate, but the others now noticed that something was wrong and with one accord they halted the column and looked back along the path. There was Tik-Tok, still bounding from one rubber rock to another, each time rising a less distance from the ground. And there was General Apple, bounding away in another direction, his three-cornered hat jammed over his eyes and his long sword thumping him upon the arms and head as it swung this way and that. And there, also, appeared General Cone, who had struck a rubber rock headforemost and was so crumpled up that his round body looked more like a bouncing-ball than the form of a man. Betsy laughed merrily at the strange sight and Polychrome echoed her laughter. But Ozga was grave and wondering, while Queen Ann became angry at seeing the chief officers of the Army of Oogaboo bounding around in so undignified a manner. She shouted to them to stop, but they were unable to obey, even though they would have been glad to do so. Finally, however, they all ceased bounding and managed to get upon their feet and rejoin the Army. "Why did you do that?" demanded Ann, who seemed greatly provoked. "Don't ask them why," said Shaggy earnestly. "I knew you would ask them why, but you ought not to do it. The reason is plain. Those stones are rubber; therefore they are not stones. Those rocks around us are rubber, and therefore they are not rocks. Even this path is not a path; it's rubber. Unless we are very careful, your Majesty, we are all likely to get the bounce, just as your poor officers and Tik-Tok did." [Illustration] "Then let's be careful," remarked Files, who was full of wisdom; but Polychrome wanted to test the quality of the rubber, so she began dancing. Every step sent her higher and higher into the air, so that she resembled a big butterfly fluttering lightly. Presently she made a great bound and bounded way across the stream, landing lightly and steadily on the other side. "There is no rubber over here," she called to them. "Suppose you all try to bound over the stream, without touching the stepping-stones." Ann and her officers were reluctant to undertake such a risky adventure, but Betsy at once grasped the value of the suggestion and began jumping up and down until she found herself bounding almost as high as Polychrome had done. Then she suddenly leaned forward and the next bound took her easily across the brook, where she alighted by the side of the Rainbow's Daughter. "Come on, Hank!" called the girl, and the donkey tried to obey. He managed to bound pretty high but when he tried to bound across the stream he misjudged the distance and fell with a splash into the middle of the water. "Hee-haw!" he wailed, struggling toward the far bank. Betsy rushed forward to help him out, but when the mule stood safely beside her she was amazed to find he was not wet at all. "It's dry water," said Polychrome, dipping her hand into the stream and showing how the water fell from it and left it perfectly dry. "In that case," returned Betsy, "they can all walk through the water." She called to Ozga and Shaggy to wade across, assuring them the water was shallow and would not wet them. At once they followed her advice, avoiding the rubber stepping-stones, and made the crossing with ease. This encouraged the entire party to wade through the dry water, and in a few minutes all had assembled on the bank and renewed their journey along the path that led to the Nome King's dominions. When Kaliko again looked through his magic spyglass he exclaimed: "Bad luck, Your Majesty! All the invaders have passed the Rubber Country and now are fast approaching the entrance to your caverns." Ruggedo raved and stormed at the news and his anger was so great that several times, as he strode up and down his jeweled cavern, he paused to kick Kaliko upon his shins, which were so sensitive that the poor nome howled with pain. Finally the King said: "There's no help for it; we must drop these audacious invaders down the Hollow Tube." Kaliko gave a jump, at this, and looked at his master wonderingly. "If you do that, Your Majesty," he said, "you will make Tititi-Hoochoo very angry." "Never mind that," retorted Ruggedo. "Tititi-Hoochoo lives on the other side of the world, so what do I care for his anger?" Kaliko shuddered and uttered a little groan. "Remember his terrible powers," he pleaded, "and remember that he warned you, the last time you slid people through the Hollow Tube, that if you did it again he would take vengeance upon you." The Metal Monarch walked up and down in silence, thinking deeply. "Of two dangers," said he, "it is wise to choose the least. What do you suppose these invaders want?" "Let the Long-Eared Hearer listen to them," suggested Kaliko. "Call him here at once!" commanded Ruggedo eagerly. So in a few minutes there entered the cavern a nome with enormous ears, who bowed low before the King. "Strangers are approaching," said Ruggedo, "and I wish to know their errand. Listen carefully to their talk and tell me why they are coming here, and what for." The nome bowed again and spread out his great ears, swaying them gently up and down and back and forth. For half an hour he stood silent, in an attitude of listening, while both the King and Kaliko grew impatient at the delay. At last the Long-Eared Hearer spoke: [Illustration] "Shaggy Man is coming here to rescue his brother from captivity," said he. "Ha, the Ugly One!" exclaimed Ruggedo. "Well, Shaggy Man may have his ugly brother, for all I care. He's too lazy to work and is always getting in my way. Where is the Ugly One now, Kaliko?" "The last time Your Majesty stumbled over the prisoner you commanded me to send him to the Metal Forest, which I did. I suppose he is still there." "Very good. The invaders will have a hard time finding the Metal Forest," said the King, with a grin of malicious delight, "for half the time I can't find it myself. Yet I created the forest and made every tree, out of gold and silver, so as to keep the precious metals in a safe place and out of the reach of mortals. But tell me, Hearer, do the strangers want anything else?" "Yes, indeed they do!" returned the nome. "The Army of Oogaboo is determined to capture all the rich metals and rare jewels in your kingdom, and the officers and their Queen have arranged to divide the spoils and carry them away." When he heard this Ruggedo uttered a bellow of rage and began dancing up and down, rolling his eyes, clicking his teeth together and swinging his arms furiously. Then, in an ecstasy of anger he seized the long ears of the Hearer and pulled and twisted them cruelly; but Kaliko grabbed up the King's sceptre and rapped him over the knuckles with it, so that Ruggedo let go the ears and began to chase his Royal Chamberlain around the throne. The Hearer took advantage of this opportunity to slip away from the cavern and escape, and after the King had tired himself out chasing Kaliko he threw himself into his throne and panted for breath, while he glared wickedly at his defiant subject. "You'd better save your strength to fight the enemy," suggested Kaliko. "There will be a terrible battle when the Army of Oogaboo gets here." "The Army won't get here," said the King, still coughing and panting. "I'll drop 'em down the Hollow Tube--every man Jack and every girl Jill of 'em!" "And defy Tititi-Hoochoo?" asked Kaliko. "Yes. Go at once to my Chief Magician and order him to turn the path toward the Hollow Tube, and to make the top of the Tube invisible, so they'll all fall into it." Kaliko went away shaking his head, for he thought Ruggedo was making a great mistake. He found the Magician and had the path twisted so that it led directly to the opening of the Hollow Tube, and this opening he made invisible. Having obeyed the orders of his master, the Royal Chamberlain went to his private room and began to write letters of recommendation of himself, stating that he was an honest man, a good servant and a small eater. "Pretty soon," he said to himself, "I shall have to look for another job, for it is certain that Ruggedo has ruined himself by this reckless defiance of the mighty Tititi-Hoochoo. And in seeking a job nothing is so effective as a letter of recommendation." [Illustration] [Illustration] CHAPTER 10 A Terrible Tumble Through a Tube I suppose that Polychrome, and perhaps Queen Ann and her Army, might have been able to dispel the enchantment of Ruggedo's Chief Magician had they known that danger lay in their pathway; for the Rainbow's Daughter was a fairy and as Oogaboo is a part of the Land of Oz its inhabitants cannot easily be deceived by such common magic as the Nome King could command. But no one suspected any especial danger until after they had entered Ruggedo's cavern, and so they were journeying along in quite a contented manner when Tik-Tok, who marched ahead, suddenly disappeared. The officers thought he must have turned a corner, so they kept on their way and all of them likewise disappeared--one after another. Queen Ann was rather surprised at this, and in hastening forward to learn the reason she also vanished from sight. Betsy Bobbin had tired her feet by walking, so she was now riding upon the back of the stout little mule, facing backward and talking to Shaggy and Polychrome, who were just behind. Suddenly Hank pitched forward and began falling and Betsy would have tumbled over his head had she not grabbed the mule's shaggy neck with both arms and held on for dear life. All around was darkness, and they were not falling directly downward but seemed to be sliding along a steep incline. Hank's hoofs were resting upon some smooth substance over which he slid with the swiftness of the wind. Once Betsy's heels flew up and struck a similar substance overhead. They were, indeed, descending the "Hollow Tube" that led to the other side of the world. "Stop, Hank--stop!" cried the girl; but Hank only uttered a plaintive "Hee-haw!" for it was impossible for him to obey. After several minutes had passed and no harm had befallen them, Betsy gained courage. She could see nothing at all, nor could she hear anything except the rush of air past her ears as they plunged downward along the Tube. Whether she and Hank were alone, or the others were with them, she could not tell. But had some one been able to take a flash-light photograph of the Tube at that time a most curious picture would have resulted. There was Tik-Tok, flat upon his back and sliding headforemost down the incline. And there were the Officers of the Army of Oogaboo, all tangled up in a confused crowd, flapping their arms and trying to shield their faces from the clanking swords, which swung back and forth during the swift journey and pommeled everyone within their reach. Now followed Queen Ann, who had struck the Tube in a sitting position and went flying along with a dash and abandon that thoroughly bewildered the poor lady, who had no idea what had happened to her. Then, a little distance away, but unseen by the others in the inky darkness, slid Betsy and Hank, while behind them were Shaggy and Polychrome and finally Files and the Princess. When first they tumbled into the Tube all were too dazed to think clearly, but the trip was a long one, because the cavity led straight through the earth to a place just opposite the Nome King's dominions, and long before the adventurers got to the end they had begun to recover their wits. "This is awful, Hank!" cried Betsy in a loud voice, and Queen Ann heard her and called out: "Are you safe, Betsy?" "Mercy, no!" answered the little girl. "How could anyone be safe when she's going about sixty miles a minute?" Then, after a pause, she added: "But where do you s'pose we're going to, Your Maj'sty?" "Don't ask her that, please don't!" said Shaggy, who was not too far away to overhear them. "And please don't ask me why, either." "Why?" said Betsy. "No one can tell where we are going until we get there," replied Shaggy, and then he yelled "Ouch!" for Polychrome had overtaken him and was now sitting on his head. The Rainbow's Daughter laughed merrily, and so infectious was this joyous laugh that Betsy echoed it and Hank said "Hee-haw!" in a mild and sympathetic tone of voice. "I'd like to know where and when we'll arrive, just the same," exclaimed the little girl. "Be patient and you'll find out, my dear," said Polychrome. "But isn't this an odd experience? Here am I, whose home is in the skies, making a journey through the center of the earth--where I never expected to be!" "How do you know we're in the center of the earth?" asked Betsy, her voice trembling a little through nervousness. "Why, we can't be anywhere else," replied Polychrome. "I have often heard of this passage, which was once built by a Magician who was a great traveler. He thought it would save him the bother of going around the earth's surface, but he tumbled through the Tube so fast that he shot out at the other end and hit a star in the sky, which at once exploded." "The star exploded?" asked Betsy wonderingly. "Yes; the Magician hit it so hard." "And what became of the Magician?" inquired the girl. "No one knows that," answered Polychrome. "But I don't think it matters much." "It matters a good deal, if we also hit the stars when we come out," said Queen Ann, with a moan. "Don't worry," advised Polychrome. "I believe the Magician was going the other way, and probably he went much faster than we are going." "It's fast enough to suit me," remarked Shaggy, gently removing Polychrome's heel from his left eye. "Couldn't you manage to fall all by yourself, my dear?" "I'll try," laughed the Rainbow's Daughter. All this time they were swiftly falling through the Tube, and it was not so easy for them to talk as you may imagine when you read their words. But although they were so helpless and altogether in the dark as to their fate, the fact that they were able to converse at all cheered them considerably. Files and Ozga were also conversing as they clung tightly to one another, and the young fellow bravely strove to reassure the Princess, although he was terribly frightened, both on her account and on his own. An hour, under such trying circumstances, is a very long time, and for more than an hour they continued their fearful journey. Then, just as they began to fear the Tube would never end, Tik-Tok popped out into broad daylight and, after making a graceful circle in the air, fell with a splash into a great marble fountain. Out came the officers, in quick succession, tumbling heels over head and striking the ground in many undignified attitudes. "For the love of sassafras!" exclaimed a Peculiar Person who was hoeing pink violets in a garden. "What can all this mean?" For answer, Queen Ann sailed up from the Tube, took a ride through the air as high as the treetops, and alighted squarely on top of the Peculiar Person's head, smashing a jeweled crown over his eyes and tumbling him to the ground. The mule was heavier and had Betsy clinging to his back, so he did not go so high up. Fortunately for his little rider he struck the ground upon his four feet. Betsy was jarred a trifle but not hurt and when she looked around her she saw the Queen and the Peculiar Person struggling together upon the ground, where the man was trying to choke Ann and she had both hands in his bushy hair and was pulling with all her might. Some of the officers, when they got upon their feet, hastened to separate the combatants and sought to restrain the Peculiar Person so that he could not attack their Queen again. [Illustration] By this time, Shaggy, Polychrome, Ozga and Files had all arrived and were curiously examining the strange country in which they found themselves and which they knew to be exactly on the opposite side of the world from the place where they had fallen into the Tube. It was a lovely place, indeed, and seemed to be the garden of some great Prince, for through the vistas of trees and shrubbery could be seen the towers of an immense castle. But as yet the only inhabitant to greet them was the Peculiar Person just mentioned, who had shaken off the grasp of the officers without effort and was now trying to pull the battered crown from off his eyes. Shaggy, who was always polite, helped him to do this and when the man was free and could see again he looked at his visitors with evident amazement. "Well, well, well!" he exclaimed. "Where did you come from and how did you get here?" Betsy tried to answer him, for Queen Ann was surly and silent. "I can't say, exac'ly where we came from, 'cause I don't know the name of the place," said the girl, "but the way we got here was through the Hollow Tube." "Don't call it a 'hollow' Tube, please," exclaimed the Peculiar Person in an irritated tone of voice. "If it's a tube, it's sure to be hollow." "Why?" asked Betsy. "Because all tubes are made that way. But this Tube is private property and everyone is forbidden to fall into it." "We didn't do it on purpose," explained Betsy, and Polychrome added: "I am quite sure that Ruggedo, the Nome King, pushed us down that Tube." "Ha! Ruggedo! Did you say Ruggedo?" cried the man, becoming much excited. "That is what she said," replied Shaggy, "and I believe she is right. We were on our way to conquer the Nome King when suddenly we fell into the Tube." "Then you are enemies of Ruggedo?" inquired the Peculiar Person. "Not exac'ly enemies," said Betsy, a little puzzled by the question, "'cause we don't know him at all; but we started out to conquer him, which isn't as friendly as it might be." "True," agreed the man. He looked thoughtfully from one to another of them for a while and then he turned his head over his shoulder and said: "Never mind the fire and pincers, my good brothers. It will be best to take these strangers to the Private Citizen." "Very well, Tubekins," responded a Voice, deep and powerful, that seemed to come out of the air, for the speaker was invisible. All our friends gave a jump, at this. Even Polychrome was so startled that her gauze draperies fluttered like a banner in a breeze. Shaggy shook his head and sighed; Queen Ann looked very unhappy; the officers clung to each other, trembling violently. But soon they gained courage to look more closely at the Peculiar Person. As he was a type of all the inhabitants of this extraordinary land whom they afterward met, I will try to tell you what he looked like. His face was beautiful, but lacked expression. His eyes were large and blue in color and his teeth finely formed and white as snow. His hair was black and bushy and seemed inclined to curl at the ends. So far no one could find any fault with his appearance. He wore a robe of scarlet, which did not cover his arms and extended no lower than his bare knees. On the bosom of the robe was embroidered a terrible dragon's head, as horrible to look at as the man was beautiful. His arms and legs were left bare and the skin of one arm was bright yellow and the skin of the other arm a vivid green. He had one blue leg and one pink one, while both his feet--which showed through the open sandals he wore--were jet black. Betsy could not decide whether these gorgeous colors were dyes or the natural tints of the skin, but while she was thinking it over the man who had been called "Tubekins" said: "Follow me to the Residence--all of you!" But just then a Voice exclaimed: "Here's another of them, Tubekins, lying in the water of the fountain." [Illustration] "Gracious!" cried Betsy; "it must be Tik-Tok, and he'll drown." "Water is a bad thing for his clockworks, anyhow," agreed Shaggy, as with one accord they all started for the fountain. But before they could reach it, invisible hands raised Tik-Tok from the marble basin and set him upon his feet beside it, water dripping from every joint of his copper body. "Ma--ny tha--tha--tha--thanks!" he said; and then his copper jaws clicked together and he could say no more. He next made an attempt to walk but after several awkward trials found he could not move his joints. Peals of jeering laughter from persons unseen greeted Tik-Tok's failure, and the new arrivals in this strange land found it very uncomfortable to realize that there were many creatures around them who were invisible, yet could be heard plainly. "Shall I wind him up?" asked Betsy, feeling very sorry for Tik-Tok. "I think his machinery is wound; but he needs oiling," replied Shaggy. At once an oil-can appeared before him, held on a level with his eyes by some unseen hand.

became

How many times the word 'became' appears in the text?

to ask the important question. She dropped to her knees, facing the flowers, and extended both her arms pleadingly toward them. "Tell me, pretty cousins," she said in her sweet, gentle voice, "which way will lead us to the Kingdom of Ruggedo, the Nome King?" At once all the stems bent gracefully to the right and the flower heads nodded once--twice--thrice in that direction. "That's it!" cried Files joyfully. "Now we know the way." Ozga rose to her feet and looked wonderingly at the field-flowers, which had now resumed their upright position. "Was it the wind, do you think?" she asked in a low whisper. "No, indeed," replied Files. "There is not a breath of wind stirring. But these lovely blossoms are indeed your cousins and answered your question at once, as I knew they would." [Illustration] CHAPTER 9 Ruggedo's Rage is Rash and Reckless The way taken by the adventurers led up hill and down dale and wound here and there in a fashion that seemed aimless. But always it drew nearer to a range of low mountains and Files said more than once that he was certain the entrance to Ruggedo's cavern would be found among these rugged hills. In this he was quite correct. Far underneath the nearest mountain was a gorgeous chamber hollowed from the solid rock, the walls and roof of which glittered with thousands of magnificent jewels. Here, on a throne of virgin gold, sat the famous Nome King, dressed in splendid robes and wearing a superb crown cut from a single blood-red ruby. Ruggedo, the Monarch of all the Metals and Precious Stones of the Underground World, was a round little man with a flowing white beard, a red face, bright eyes and a scowl that covered all his forehead. One would think, to look at him, that he ought to be jolly; one might think, considering his enormous wealth, that he ought to be happy; but this was not the case. The Metal Monarch was surly and cross because mortals had dug so much treasure out of the earth and kept it above ground, where all the power of Ruggedo and his nomes was unable to recover it. He hated not only the mortals but also the fairies who live upon the earth or above it, and instead of being content with the riches he still possessed he was unhappy because he did not own all the gold and jewels in the world. Ruggedo had been nodding, half asleep, in his chair when suddenly he sat upright uttered a roar of rage and began pounding upon a huge gong that stood beside him. The sound filled the vast cavern and penetrated to many caverns beyond, where countless thousands of nomes were working at their unending tasks, hammering out gold and silver and other metals, or melting ores in great furnaces, or polishing glittering gems. The nomes trembled at the sound of the King's gong and whispered fearfully to one another that something unpleasant was sure to happen; but none dared pause in his task. The heavy curtains of cloth-of-gold were pushed aside and Kaliko, the King's High Chamberlain, entered the royal presence. "What's up, Your Majesty?" he asked, with a wide yawn, for he had just wakened. "Up?" roared Ruggedo, stamping his foot viciously. "Those foolish mortals are up, that's what! And they want to come down." "Down here?" inquired Kaliko. "Yes!" "How do you know?" continued the Chamberlain, yawning again. "I feel it in my bones," said Ruggedo. "I can always feel it when those hateful earth-crawlers draw near to my Kingdom. I am positive, Kaliko, that mortals are this very minute on their way here to annoy me--and I hate mortals more than I do catnip tea!" "Well, what's to be done?" demanded the nome. "Look through your spyglass, and see where the invaders are," commanded the King. So Kaliko went to a tube in the wall of rock and put his eye to it. The tube ran from the cavern up to the side of the mountain and turned several curves and corners, but as it was a magic spyglass Kaliko was able to see through it just as easily as if it had been straight. "Ho--hum," said he. "I see 'em, Your Majesty." "What do they look like?" inquired the Monarch. "That's a hard question to answer, for a queerer assortment of creatures I never yet beheld," replied the nome. "However, such a collection of curiosities may prove dangerous. There's a copper man, worked by machinery--" "Bah! that's only Tik-Tok," said Ruggedo. "I'm not afraid of him. Why, only the other day I met the fellow and threw him down a well." "Then some one must have pulled him out again," said Kaliko. "And there's a little girl--" "Dorothy?" asked Ruggedo, jumping up in fear. "No; some other girl. In fact, there are several girls, of various sizes; but Dorothy is not with them, nor is Ozma." "That's good!" exclaimed the King, sighing in relief. Kaliko still had his eye to the spyglass. "I see," said he, "an army of men from Oogaboo. They are all officers and carry swords. And there is a Shaggy Man--who seems very harmless--and a little donkey with big ears." "Pooh!" cried Ruggedo, snapping his fingers in scorn. "I've no fear of such a mob as that. A dozen of my nomes can destroy them all in a jiffy." "I'm not so sure of that," said Kaliko. "The people of Oogaboo are hard to destroy, and I believe the Rose Princess is a fairy. As for Polychrome, you know very well that the Rainbow's Daughter cannot be injured by a nome." "Polychrome! Is she among them?" asked the King. "Yes; I have just recognized her." "Then these people are coming here on no peaceful errand," declared Ruggedo, scowling fiercely. "In fact, no one ever comes here on a peaceful errand. I hate everybody, and everybody hates me!" "Very true," said Kaliko. "I must in some way prevent these people from reaching my dominions. Where are they now?" "Just now they are crossing the Rubber Country, Your Majesty." "Good! Are your magnetic rubber wires in working order?" "I think so," replied Kaliko. "Is it your Royal Will that we have some fun with these invaders?" "It is," answered Ruggedo. "I want to teach them a lesson they will never forget." Now, Shaggy had no idea that he was in a Rubber Country, nor had any of his companions. They noticed that everything around them was of a dull gray color and that the path upon which they walked was soft and springy, yet they had no suspicion that the rocks and trees were rubber and even the path they trod was made of rubber. Presently they came to a brook where sparkling water dashed through a deep channel and rushed away between high rocks far down the mountain-side. Across the brook were stepping-stones, so placed that travelers might easily leap from one to another and in that manner cross the water to the farther bank. Tik-Tok was marching ahead, followed by his officers and Queen Ann. After them came Betsy Bobbin and Hank, Polychrome and Shaggy, and last of all the Rose Princess with Files. The Clockwork Man saw the stream and the stepping-stones and, without making a pause, placed his foot upon the first stone. The result was astonishing. First he sank down in the soft rubber, which then rebounded and sent Tik-Tok soaring high in the air, where he turned a succession of flip-flops and alighted upon a rubber rock far in the rear of the party. General Apple did not see Tik-Tok bound, so quickly had he disappeared; therefore he also stepped upon the stone (which you will guess was connected with Kaliko's magnetic rubber wire) and instantly shot upward like an arrow. General Cone came next and met with a like fate, but the others now noticed that something was wrong and with one accord they halted the column and looked back along the path. There was Tik-Tok, still bounding from one rubber rock to another, each time rising a less distance from the ground. And there was General Apple, bounding away in another direction, his three-cornered hat jammed over his eyes and his long sword thumping him upon the arms and head as it swung this way and that. And there, also, appeared General Cone, who had struck a rubber rock headforemost and was so crumpled up that his round body looked more like a bouncing-ball than the form of a man. Betsy laughed merrily at the strange sight and Polychrome echoed her laughter. But Ozga was grave and wondering, while Queen Ann became angry at seeing the chief officers of the Army of Oogaboo bounding around in so undignified a manner. She shouted to them to stop, but they were unable to obey, even though they would have been glad to do so. Finally, however, they all ceased bounding and managed to get upon their feet and rejoin the Army. "Why did you do that?" demanded Ann, who seemed greatly provoked. "Don't ask them why," said Shaggy earnestly. "I knew you would ask them why, but you ought not to do it. The reason is plain. Those stones are rubber; therefore they are not stones. Those rocks around us are rubber, and therefore they are not rocks. Even this path is not a path; it's rubber. Unless we are very careful, your Majesty, we are all likely to get the bounce, just as your poor officers and Tik-Tok did." [Illustration] "Then let's be careful," remarked Files, who was full of wisdom; but Polychrome wanted to test the quality of the rubber, so she began dancing. Every step sent her higher and higher into the air, so that she resembled a big butterfly fluttering lightly. Presently she made a great bound and bounded way across the stream, landing lightly and steadily on the other side. "There is no rubber over here," she called to them. "Suppose you all try to bound over the stream, without touching the stepping-stones." Ann and her officers were reluctant to undertake such a risky adventure, but Betsy at once grasped the value of the suggestion and began jumping up and down until she found herself bounding almost as high as Polychrome had done. Then she suddenly leaned forward and the next bound took her easily across the brook, where she alighted by the side of the Rainbow's Daughter. "Come on, Hank!" called the girl, and the donkey tried to obey. He managed to bound pretty high but when he tried to bound across the stream he misjudged the distance and fell with a splash into the middle of the water. "Hee-haw!" he wailed, struggling toward the far bank. Betsy rushed forward to help him out, but when the mule stood safely beside her she was amazed to find he was not wet at all. "It's dry water," said Polychrome, dipping her hand into the stream and showing how the water fell from it and left it perfectly dry. "In that case," returned Betsy, "they can all walk through the water." She called to Ozga and Shaggy to wade across, assuring them the water was shallow and would not wet them. At once they followed her advice, avoiding the rubber stepping-stones, and made the crossing with ease. This encouraged the entire party to wade through the dry water, and in a few minutes all had assembled on the bank and renewed their journey along the path that led to the Nome King's dominions. When Kaliko again looked through his magic spyglass he exclaimed: "Bad luck, Your Majesty! All the invaders have passed the Rubber Country and now are fast approaching the entrance to your caverns." Ruggedo raved and stormed at the news and his anger was so great that several times, as he strode up and down his jeweled cavern, he paused to kick Kaliko upon his shins, which were so sensitive that the poor nome howled with pain. Finally the King said: "There's no help for it; we must drop these audacious invaders down the Hollow Tube." Kaliko gave a jump, at this, and looked at his master wonderingly. "If you do that, Your Majesty," he said, "you will make Tititi-Hoochoo very angry." "Never mind that," retorted Ruggedo. "Tititi-Hoochoo lives on the other side of the world, so what do I care for his anger?" Kaliko shuddered and uttered a little groan. "Remember his terrible powers," he pleaded, "and remember that he warned you, the last time you slid people through the Hollow Tube, that if you did it again he would take vengeance upon you." The Metal Monarch walked up and down in silence, thinking deeply. "Of two dangers," said he, "it is wise to choose the least. What do you suppose these invaders want?" "Let the Long-Eared Hearer listen to them," suggested Kaliko. "Call him here at once!" commanded Ruggedo eagerly. So in a few minutes there entered the cavern a nome with enormous ears, who bowed low before the King. "Strangers are approaching," said Ruggedo, "and I wish to know their errand. Listen carefully to their talk and tell me why they are coming here, and what for." The nome bowed again and spread out his great ears, swaying them gently up and down and back and forth. For half an hour he stood silent, in an attitude of listening, while both the King and Kaliko grew impatient at the delay. At last the Long-Eared Hearer spoke: [Illustration] "Shaggy Man is coming here to rescue his brother from captivity," said he. "Ha, the Ugly One!" exclaimed Ruggedo. "Well, Shaggy Man may have his ugly brother, for all I care. He's too lazy to work and is always getting in my way. Where is the Ugly One now, Kaliko?" "The last time Your Majesty stumbled over the prisoner you commanded me to send him to the Metal Forest, which I did. I suppose he is still there." "Very good. The invaders will have a hard time finding the Metal Forest," said the King, with a grin of malicious delight, "for half the time I can't find it myself. Yet I created the forest and made every tree, out of gold and silver, so as to keep the precious metals in a safe place and out of the reach of mortals. But tell me, Hearer, do the strangers want anything else?" "Yes, indeed they do!" returned the nome. "The Army of Oogaboo is determined to capture all the rich metals and rare jewels in your kingdom, and the officers and their Queen have arranged to divide the spoils and carry them away." When he heard this Ruggedo uttered a bellow of rage and began dancing up and down, rolling his eyes, clicking his teeth together and swinging his arms furiously. Then, in an ecstasy of anger he seized the long ears of the Hearer and pulled and twisted them cruelly; but Kaliko grabbed up the King's sceptre and rapped him over the knuckles with it, so that Ruggedo let go the ears and began to chase his Royal Chamberlain around the throne. The Hearer took advantage of this opportunity to slip away from the cavern and escape, and after the King had tired himself out chasing Kaliko he threw himself into his throne and panted for breath, while he glared wickedly at his defiant subject. "You'd better save your strength to fight the enemy," suggested Kaliko. "There will be a terrible battle when the Army of Oogaboo gets here." "The Army won't get here," said the King, still coughing and panting. "I'll drop 'em down the Hollow Tube--every man Jack and every girl Jill of 'em!" "And defy Tititi-Hoochoo?" asked Kaliko. "Yes. Go at once to my Chief Magician and order him to turn the path toward the Hollow Tube, and to make the top of the Tube invisible, so they'll all fall into it." Kaliko went away shaking his head, for he thought Ruggedo was making a great mistake. He found the Magician and had the path twisted so that it led directly to the opening of the Hollow Tube, and this opening he made invisible. Having obeyed the orders of his master, the Royal Chamberlain went to his private room and began to write letters of recommendation of himself, stating that he was an honest man, a good servant and a small eater. "Pretty soon," he said to himself, "I shall have to look for another job, for it is certain that Ruggedo has ruined himself by this reckless defiance of the mighty Tititi-Hoochoo. And in seeking a job nothing is so effective as a letter of recommendation." [Illustration] [Illustration] CHAPTER 10 A Terrible Tumble Through a Tube I suppose that Polychrome, and perhaps Queen Ann and her Army, might have been able to dispel the enchantment of Ruggedo's Chief Magician had they known that danger lay in their pathway; for the Rainbow's Daughter was a fairy and as Oogaboo is a part of the Land of Oz its inhabitants cannot easily be deceived by such common magic as the Nome King could command. But no one suspected any especial danger until after they had entered Ruggedo's cavern, and so they were journeying along in quite a contented manner when Tik-Tok, who marched ahead, suddenly disappeared. The officers thought he must have turned a corner, so they kept on their way and all of them likewise disappeared--one after another. Queen Ann was rather surprised at this, and in hastening forward to learn the reason she also vanished from sight. Betsy Bobbin had tired her feet by walking, so she was now riding upon the back of the stout little mule, facing backward and talking to Shaggy and Polychrome, who were just behind. Suddenly Hank pitched forward and began falling and Betsy would have tumbled over his head had she not grabbed the mule's shaggy neck with both arms and held on for dear life. All around was darkness, and they were not falling directly downward but seemed to be sliding along a steep incline. Hank's hoofs were resting upon some smooth substance over which he slid with the swiftness of the wind. Once Betsy's heels flew up and struck a similar substance overhead. They were, indeed, descending the "Hollow Tube" that led to the other side of the world. "Stop, Hank--stop!" cried the girl; but Hank only uttered a plaintive "Hee-haw!" for it was impossible for him to obey. After several minutes had passed and no harm had befallen them, Betsy gained courage. She could see nothing at all, nor could she hear anything except the rush of air past her ears as they plunged downward along the Tube. Whether she and Hank were alone, or the others were with them, she could not tell. But had some one been able to take a flash-light photograph of the Tube at that time a most curious picture would have resulted. There was Tik-Tok, flat upon his back and sliding headforemost down the incline. And there were the Officers of the Army of Oogaboo, all tangled up in a confused crowd, flapping their arms and trying to shield their faces from the clanking swords, which swung back and forth during the swift journey and pommeled everyone within their reach. Now followed Queen Ann, who had struck the Tube in a sitting position and went flying along with a dash and abandon that thoroughly bewildered the poor lady, who had no idea what had happened to her. Then, a little distance away, but unseen by the others in the inky darkness, slid Betsy and Hank, while behind them were Shaggy and Polychrome and finally Files and the Princess. When first they tumbled into the Tube all were too dazed to think clearly, but the trip was a long one, because the cavity led straight through the earth to a place just opposite the Nome King's dominions, and long before the adventurers got to the end they had begun to recover their wits. "This is awful, Hank!" cried Betsy in a loud voice, and Queen Ann heard her and called out: "Are you safe, Betsy?" "Mercy, no!" answered the little girl. "How could anyone be safe when she's going about sixty miles a minute?" Then, after a pause, she added: "But where do you s'pose we're going to, Your Maj'sty?" "Don't ask her that, please don't!" said Shaggy, who was not too far away to overhear them. "And please don't ask me why, either." "Why?" said Betsy. "No one can tell where we are going until we get there," replied Shaggy, and then he yelled "Ouch!" for Polychrome had overtaken him and was now sitting on his head. The Rainbow's Daughter laughed merrily, and so infectious was this joyous laugh that Betsy echoed it and Hank said "Hee-haw!" in a mild and sympathetic tone of voice. "I'd like to know where and when we'll arrive, just the same," exclaimed the little girl. "Be patient and you'll find out, my dear," said Polychrome. "But isn't this an odd experience? Here am I, whose home is in the skies, making a journey through the center of the earth--where I never expected to be!" "How do you know we're in the center of the earth?" asked Betsy, her voice trembling a little through nervousness. "Why, we can't be anywhere else," replied Polychrome. "I have often heard of this passage, which was once built by a Magician who was a great traveler. He thought it would save him the bother of going around the earth's surface, but he tumbled through the Tube so fast that he shot out at the other end and hit a star in the sky, which at once exploded." "The star exploded?" asked Betsy wonderingly. "Yes; the Magician hit it so hard." "And what became of the Magician?" inquired the girl. "No one knows that," answered Polychrome. "But I don't think it matters much." "It matters a good deal, if we also hit the stars when we come out," said Queen Ann, with a moan. "Don't worry," advised Polychrome. "I believe the Magician was going the other way, and probably he went much faster than we are going." "It's fast enough to suit me," remarked Shaggy, gently removing Polychrome's heel from his left eye. "Couldn't you manage to fall all by yourself, my dear?" "I'll try," laughed the Rainbow's Daughter. All this time they were swiftly falling through the Tube, and it was not so easy for them to talk as you may imagine when you read their words. But although they were so helpless and altogether in the dark as to their fate, the fact that they were able to converse at all cheered them considerably. Files and Ozga were also conversing as they clung tightly to one another, and the young fellow bravely strove to reassure the Princess, although he was terribly frightened, both on her account and on his own. An hour, under such trying circumstances, is a very long time, and for more than an hour they continued their fearful journey. Then, just as they began to fear the Tube would never end, Tik-Tok popped out into broad daylight and, after making a graceful circle in the air, fell with a splash into a great marble fountain. Out came the officers, in quick succession, tumbling heels over head and striking the ground in many undignified attitudes. "For the love of sassafras!" exclaimed a Peculiar Person who was hoeing pink violets in a garden. "What can all this mean?" For answer, Queen Ann sailed up from the Tube, took a ride through the air as high as the treetops, and alighted squarely on top of the Peculiar Person's head, smashing a jeweled crown over his eyes and tumbling him to the ground. The mule was heavier and had Betsy clinging to his back, so he did not go so high up. Fortunately for his little rider he struck the ground upon his four feet. Betsy was jarred a trifle but not hurt and when she looked around her she saw the Queen and the Peculiar Person struggling together upon the ground, where the man was trying to choke Ann and she had both hands in his bushy hair and was pulling with all her might. Some of the officers, when they got upon their feet, hastened to separate the combatants and sought to restrain the Peculiar Person so that he could not attack their Queen again. [Illustration] By this time, Shaggy, Polychrome, Ozga and Files had all arrived and were curiously examining the strange country in which they found themselves and which they knew to be exactly on the opposite side of the world from the place where they had fallen into the Tube. It was a lovely place, indeed, and seemed to be the garden of some great Prince, for through the vistas of trees and shrubbery could be seen the towers of an immense castle. But as yet the only inhabitant to greet them was the Peculiar Person just mentioned, who had shaken off the grasp of the officers without effort and was now trying to pull the battered crown from off his eyes. Shaggy, who was always polite, helped him to do this and when the man was free and could see again he looked at his visitors with evident amazement. "Well, well, well!" he exclaimed. "Where did you come from and how did you get here?" Betsy tried to answer him, for Queen Ann was surly and silent. "I can't say, exac'ly where we came from, 'cause I don't know the name of the place," said the girl, "but the way we got here was through the Hollow Tube." "Don't call it a 'hollow' Tube, please," exclaimed the Peculiar Person in an irritated tone of voice. "If it's a tube, it's sure to be hollow." "Why?" asked Betsy. "Because all tubes are made that way. But this Tube is private property and everyone is forbidden to fall into it." "We didn't do it on purpose," explained Betsy, and Polychrome added: "I am quite sure that Ruggedo, the Nome King, pushed us down that Tube." "Ha! Ruggedo! Did you say Ruggedo?" cried the man, becoming much excited. "That is what she said," replied Shaggy, "and I believe she is right. We were on our way to conquer the Nome King when suddenly we fell into the Tube." "Then you are enemies of Ruggedo?" inquired the Peculiar Person. "Not exac'ly enemies," said Betsy, a little puzzled by the question, "'cause we don't know him at all; but we started out to conquer him, which isn't as friendly as it might be." "True," agreed the man. He looked thoughtfully from one to another of them for a while and then he turned his head over his shoulder and said: "Never mind the fire and pincers, my good brothers. It will be best to take these strangers to the Private Citizen." "Very well, Tubekins," responded a Voice, deep and powerful, that seemed to come out of the air, for the speaker was invisible. All our friends gave a jump, at this. Even Polychrome was so startled that her gauze draperies fluttered like a banner in a breeze. Shaggy shook his head and sighed; Queen Ann looked very unhappy; the officers clung to each other, trembling violently. But soon they gained courage to look more closely at the Peculiar Person. As he was a type of all the inhabitants of this extraordinary land whom they afterward met, I will try to tell you what he looked like. His face was beautiful, but lacked expression. His eyes were large and blue in color and his teeth finely formed and white as snow. His hair was black and bushy and seemed inclined to curl at the ends. So far no one could find any fault with his appearance. He wore a robe of scarlet, which did not cover his arms and extended no lower than his bare knees. On the bosom of the robe was embroidered a terrible dragon's head, as horrible to look at as the man was beautiful. His arms and legs were left bare and the skin of one arm was bright yellow and the skin of the other arm a vivid green. He had one blue leg and one pink one, while both his feet--which showed through the open sandals he wore--were jet black. Betsy could not decide whether these gorgeous colors were dyes or the natural tints of the skin, but while she was thinking it over the man who had been called "Tubekins" said: "Follow me to the Residence--all of you!" But just then a Voice exclaimed: "Here's another of them, Tubekins, lying in the water of the fountain." [Illustration] "Gracious!" cried Betsy; "it must be Tik-Tok, and he'll drown." "Water is a bad thing for his clockworks, anyhow," agreed Shaggy, as with one accord they all started for the fountain. But before they could reach it, invisible hands raised Tik-Tok from the marble basin and set him upon his feet beside it, water dripping from every joint of his copper body. "Ma--ny tha--tha--tha--thanks!" he said; and then his copper jaws clicked together and he could say no more. He next made an attempt to walk but after several awkward trials found he could not move his joints. Peals of jeering laughter from persons unseen greeted Tik-Tok's failure, and the new arrivals in this strange land found it very uncomfortable to realize that there were many creatures around them who were invisible, yet could be heard plainly. "Shall I wind him up?" asked Betsy, feeling very sorry for Tik-Tok. "I think his machinery is wound; but he needs oiling," replied Shaggy. At once an oil-can appeared before him, held on a level with his eyes by some unseen hand.

congeal

How many times the word 'congeal' appears in the text?

to ask the important question. She dropped to her knees, facing the flowers, and extended both her arms pleadingly toward them. "Tell me, pretty cousins," she said in her sweet, gentle voice, "which way will lead us to the Kingdom of Ruggedo, the Nome King?" At once all the stems bent gracefully to the right and the flower heads nodded once--twice--thrice in that direction. "That's it!" cried Files joyfully. "Now we know the way." Ozga rose to her feet and looked wonderingly at the field-flowers, which had now resumed their upright position. "Was it the wind, do you think?" she asked in a low whisper. "No, indeed," replied Files. "There is not a breath of wind stirring. But these lovely blossoms are indeed your cousins and answered your question at once, as I knew they would." [Illustration] CHAPTER 9 Ruggedo's Rage is Rash and Reckless The way taken by the adventurers led up hill and down dale and wound here and there in a fashion that seemed aimless. But always it drew nearer to a range of low mountains and Files said more than once that he was certain the entrance to Ruggedo's cavern would be found among these rugged hills. In this he was quite correct. Far underneath the nearest mountain was a gorgeous chamber hollowed from the solid rock, the walls and roof of which glittered with thousands of magnificent jewels. Here, on a throne of virgin gold, sat the famous Nome King, dressed in splendid robes and wearing a superb crown cut from a single blood-red ruby. Ruggedo, the Monarch of all the Metals and Precious Stones of the Underground World, was a round little man with a flowing white beard, a red face, bright eyes and a scowl that covered all his forehead. One would think, to look at him, that he ought to be jolly; one might think, considering his enormous wealth, that he ought to be happy; but this was not the case. The Metal Monarch was surly and cross because mortals had dug so much treasure out of the earth and kept it above ground, where all the power of Ruggedo and his nomes was unable to recover it. He hated not only the mortals but also the fairies who live upon the earth or above it, and instead of being content with the riches he still possessed he was unhappy because he did not own all the gold and jewels in the world. Ruggedo had been nodding, half asleep, in his chair when suddenly he sat upright uttered a roar of rage and began pounding upon a huge gong that stood beside him. The sound filled the vast cavern and penetrated to many caverns beyond, where countless thousands of nomes were working at their unending tasks, hammering out gold and silver and other metals, or melting ores in great furnaces, or polishing glittering gems. The nomes trembled at the sound of the King's gong and whispered fearfully to one another that something unpleasant was sure to happen; but none dared pause in his task. The heavy curtains of cloth-of-gold were pushed aside and Kaliko, the King's High Chamberlain, entered the royal presence. "What's up, Your Majesty?" he asked, with a wide yawn, for he had just wakened. "Up?" roared Ruggedo, stamping his foot viciously. "Those foolish mortals are up, that's what! And they want to come down." "Down here?" inquired Kaliko. "Yes!" "How do you know?" continued the Chamberlain, yawning again. "I feel it in my bones," said Ruggedo. "I can always feel it when those hateful earth-crawlers draw near to my Kingdom. I am positive, Kaliko, that mortals are this very minute on their way here to annoy me--and I hate mortals more than I do catnip tea!" "Well, what's to be done?" demanded the nome. "Look through your spyglass, and see where the invaders are," commanded the King. So Kaliko went to a tube in the wall of rock and put his eye to it. The tube ran from the cavern up to the side of the mountain and turned several curves and corners, but as it was a magic spyglass Kaliko was able to see through it just as easily as if it had been straight. "Ho--hum," said he. "I see 'em, Your Majesty." "What do they look like?" inquired the Monarch. "That's a hard question to answer, for a queerer assortment of creatures I never yet beheld," replied the nome. "However, such a collection of curiosities may prove dangerous. There's a copper man, worked by machinery--" "Bah! that's only Tik-Tok," said Ruggedo. "I'm not afraid of him. Why, only the other day I met the fellow and threw him down a well." "Then some one must have pulled him out again," said Kaliko. "And there's a little girl--" "Dorothy?" asked Ruggedo, jumping up in fear. "No; some other girl. In fact, there are several girls, of various sizes; but Dorothy is not with them, nor is Ozma." "That's good!" exclaimed the King, sighing in relief. Kaliko still had his eye to the spyglass. "I see," said he, "an army of men from Oogaboo. They are all officers and carry swords. And there is a Shaggy Man--who seems very harmless--and a little donkey with big ears." "Pooh!" cried Ruggedo, snapping his fingers in scorn. "I've no fear of such a mob as that. A dozen of my nomes can destroy them all in a jiffy." "I'm not so sure of that," said Kaliko. "The people of Oogaboo are hard to destroy, and I believe the Rose Princess is a fairy. As for Polychrome, you know very well that the Rainbow's Daughter cannot be injured by a nome." "Polychrome! Is she among them?" asked the King. "Yes; I have just recognized her." "Then these people are coming here on no peaceful errand," declared Ruggedo, scowling fiercely. "In fact, no one ever comes here on a peaceful errand. I hate everybody, and everybody hates me!" "Very true," said Kaliko. "I must in some way prevent these people from reaching my dominions. Where are they now?" "Just now they are crossing the Rubber Country, Your Majesty." "Good! Are your magnetic rubber wires in working order?" "I think so," replied Kaliko. "Is it your Royal Will that we have some fun with these invaders?" "It is," answered Ruggedo. "I want to teach them a lesson they will never forget." Now, Shaggy had no idea that he was in a Rubber Country, nor had any of his companions. They noticed that everything around them was of a dull gray color and that the path upon which they walked was soft and springy, yet they had no suspicion that the rocks and trees were rubber and even the path they trod was made of rubber. Presently they came to a brook where sparkling water dashed through a deep channel and rushed away between high rocks far down the mountain-side. Across the brook were stepping-stones, so placed that travelers might easily leap from one to another and in that manner cross the water to the farther bank. Tik-Tok was marching ahead, followed by his officers and Queen Ann. After them came Betsy Bobbin and Hank, Polychrome and Shaggy, and last of all the Rose Princess with Files. The Clockwork Man saw the stream and the stepping-stones and, without making a pause, placed his foot upon the first stone. The result was astonishing. First he sank down in the soft rubber, which then rebounded and sent Tik-Tok soaring high in the air, where he turned a succession of flip-flops and alighted upon a rubber rock far in the rear of the party. General Apple did not see Tik-Tok bound, so quickly had he disappeared; therefore he also stepped upon the stone (which you will guess was connected with Kaliko's magnetic rubber wire) and instantly shot upward like an arrow. General Cone came next and met with a like fate, but the others now noticed that something was wrong and with one accord they halted the column and looked back along the path. There was Tik-Tok, still bounding from one rubber rock to another, each time rising a less distance from the ground. And there was General Apple, bounding away in another direction, his three-cornered hat jammed over his eyes and his long sword thumping him upon the arms and head as it swung this way and that. And there, also, appeared General Cone, who had struck a rubber rock headforemost and was so crumpled up that his round body looked more like a bouncing-ball than the form of a man. Betsy laughed merrily at the strange sight and Polychrome echoed her laughter. But Ozga was grave and wondering, while Queen Ann became angry at seeing the chief officers of the Army of Oogaboo bounding around in so undignified a manner. She shouted to them to stop, but they were unable to obey, even though they would have been glad to do so. Finally, however, they all ceased bounding and managed to get upon their feet and rejoin the Army. "Why did you do that?" demanded Ann, who seemed greatly provoked. "Don't ask them why," said Shaggy earnestly. "I knew you would ask them why, but you ought not to do it. The reason is plain. Those stones are rubber; therefore they are not stones. Those rocks around us are rubber, and therefore they are not rocks. Even this path is not a path; it's rubber. Unless we are very careful, your Majesty, we are all likely to get the bounce, just as your poor officers and Tik-Tok did." [Illustration] "Then let's be careful," remarked Files, who was full of wisdom; but Polychrome wanted to test the quality of the rubber, so she began dancing. Every step sent her higher and higher into the air, so that she resembled a big butterfly fluttering lightly. Presently she made a great bound and bounded way across the stream, landing lightly and steadily on the other side. "There is no rubber over here," she called to them. "Suppose you all try to bound over the stream, without touching the stepping-stones." Ann and her officers were reluctant to undertake such a risky adventure, but Betsy at once grasped the value of the suggestion and began jumping up and down until she found herself bounding almost as high as Polychrome had done. Then she suddenly leaned forward and the next bound took her easily across the brook, where she alighted by the side of the Rainbow's Daughter. "Come on, Hank!" called the girl, and the donkey tried to obey. He managed to bound pretty high but when he tried to bound across the stream he misjudged the distance and fell with a splash into the middle of the water. "Hee-haw!" he wailed, struggling toward the far bank. Betsy rushed forward to help him out, but when the mule stood safely beside her she was amazed to find he was not wet at all. "It's dry water," said Polychrome, dipping her hand into the stream and showing how the water fell from it and left it perfectly dry. "In that case," returned Betsy, "they can all walk through the water." She called to Ozga and Shaggy to wade across, assuring them the water was shallow and would not wet them. At once they followed her advice, avoiding the rubber stepping-stones, and made the crossing with ease. This encouraged the entire party to wade through the dry water, and in a few minutes all had assembled on the bank and renewed their journey along the path that led to the Nome King's dominions. When Kaliko again looked through his magic spyglass he exclaimed: "Bad luck, Your Majesty! All the invaders have passed the Rubber Country and now are fast approaching the entrance to your caverns." Ruggedo raved and stormed at the news and his anger was so great that several times, as he strode up and down his jeweled cavern, he paused to kick Kaliko upon his shins, which were so sensitive that the poor nome howled with pain. Finally the King said: "There's no help for it; we must drop these audacious invaders down the Hollow Tube." Kaliko gave a jump, at this, and looked at his master wonderingly. "If you do that, Your Majesty," he said, "you will make Tititi-Hoochoo very angry." "Never mind that," retorted Ruggedo. "Tititi-Hoochoo lives on the other side of the world, so what do I care for his anger?" Kaliko shuddered and uttered a little groan. "Remember his terrible powers," he pleaded, "and remember that he warned you, the last time you slid people through the Hollow Tube, that if you did it again he would take vengeance upon you." The Metal Monarch walked up and down in silence, thinking deeply. "Of two dangers," said he, "it is wise to choose the least. What do you suppose these invaders want?" "Let the Long-Eared Hearer listen to them," suggested Kaliko. "Call him here at once!" commanded Ruggedo eagerly. So in a few minutes there entered the cavern a nome with enormous ears, who bowed low before the King. "Strangers are approaching," said Ruggedo, "and I wish to know their errand. Listen carefully to their talk and tell me why they are coming here, and what for." The nome bowed again and spread out his great ears, swaying them gently up and down and back and forth. For half an hour he stood silent, in an attitude of listening, while both the King and Kaliko grew impatient at the delay. At last the Long-Eared Hearer spoke: [Illustration] "Shaggy Man is coming here to rescue his brother from captivity," said he. "Ha, the Ugly One!" exclaimed Ruggedo. "Well, Shaggy Man may have his ugly brother, for all I care. He's too lazy to work and is always getting in my way. Where is the Ugly One now, Kaliko?" "The last time Your Majesty stumbled over the prisoner you commanded me to send him to the Metal Forest, which I did. I suppose he is still there." "Very good. The invaders will have a hard time finding the Metal Forest," said the King, with a grin of malicious delight, "for half the time I can't find it myself. Yet I created the forest and made every tree, out of gold and silver, so as to keep the precious metals in a safe place and out of the reach of mortals. But tell me, Hearer, do the strangers want anything else?" "Yes, indeed they do!" returned the nome. "The Army of Oogaboo is determined to capture all the rich metals and rare jewels in your kingdom, and the officers and their Queen have arranged to divide the spoils and carry them away." When he heard this Ruggedo uttered a bellow of rage and began dancing up and down, rolling his eyes, clicking his teeth together and swinging his arms furiously. Then, in an ecstasy of anger he seized the long ears of the Hearer and pulled and twisted them cruelly; but Kaliko grabbed up the King's sceptre and rapped him over the knuckles with it, so that Ruggedo let go the ears and began to chase his Royal Chamberlain around the throne. The Hearer took advantage of this opportunity to slip away from the cavern and escape, and after the King had tired himself out chasing Kaliko he threw himself into his throne and panted for breath, while he glared wickedly at his defiant subject. "You'd better save your strength to fight the enemy," suggested Kaliko. "There will be a terrible battle when the Army of Oogaboo gets here." "The Army won't get here," said the King, still coughing and panting. "I'll drop 'em down the Hollow Tube--every man Jack and every girl Jill of 'em!" "And defy Tititi-Hoochoo?" asked Kaliko. "Yes. Go at once to my Chief Magician and order him to turn the path toward the Hollow Tube, and to make the top of the Tube invisible, so they'll all fall into it." Kaliko went away shaking his head, for he thought Ruggedo was making a great mistake. He found the Magician and had the path twisted so that it led directly to the opening of the Hollow Tube, and this opening he made invisible. Having obeyed the orders of his master, the Royal Chamberlain went to his private room and began to write letters of recommendation of himself, stating that he was an honest man, a good servant and a small eater. "Pretty soon," he said to himself, "I shall have to look for another job, for it is certain that Ruggedo has ruined himself by this reckless defiance of the mighty Tititi-Hoochoo. And in seeking a job nothing is so effective as a letter of recommendation." [Illustration] [Illustration] CHAPTER 10 A Terrible Tumble Through a Tube I suppose that Polychrome, and perhaps Queen Ann and her Army, might have been able to dispel the enchantment of Ruggedo's Chief Magician had they known that danger lay in their pathway; for the Rainbow's Daughter was a fairy and as Oogaboo is a part of the Land of Oz its inhabitants cannot easily be deceived by such common magic as the Nome King could command. But no one suspected any especial danger until after they had entered Ruggedo's cavern, and so they were journeying along in quite a contented manner when Tik-Tok, who marched ahead, suddenly disappeared. The officers thought he must have turned a corner, so they kept on their way and all of them likewise disappeared--one after another. Queen Ann was rather surprised at this, and in hastening forward to learn the reason she also vanished from sight. Betsy Bobbin had tired her feet by walking, so she was now riding upon the back of the stout little mule, facing backward and talking to Shaggy and Polychrome, who were just behind. Suddenly Hank pitched forward and began falling and Betsy would have tumbled over his head had she not grabbed the mule's shaggy neck with both arms and held on for dear life. All around was darkness, and they were not falling directly downward but seemed to be sliding along a steep incline. Hank's hoofs were resting upon some smooth substance over which he slid with the swiftness of the wind. Once Betsy's heels flew up and struck a similar substance overhead. They were, indeed, descending the "Hollow Tube" that led to the other side of the world. "Stop, Hank--stop!" cried the girl; but Hank only uttered a plaintive "Hee-haw!" for it was impossible for him to obey. After several minutes had passed and no harm had befallen them, Betsy gained courage. She could see nothing at all, nor could she hear anything except the rush of air past her ears as they plunged downward along the Tube. Whether she and Hank were alone, or the others were with them, she could not tell. But had some one been able to take a flash-light photograph of the Tube at that time a most curious picture would have resulted. There was Tik-Tok, flat upon his back and sliding headforemost down the incline. And there were the Officers of the Army of Oogaboo, all tangled up in a confused crowd, flapping their arms and trying to shield their faces from the clanking swords, which swung back and forth during the swift journey and pommeled everyone within their reach. Now followed Queen Ann, who had struck the Tube in a sitting position and went flying along with a dash and abandon that thoroughly bewildered the poor lady, who had no idea what had happened to her. Then, a little distance away, but unseen by the others in the inky darkness, slid Betsy and Hank, while behind them were Shaggy and Polychrome and finally Files and the Princess. When first they tumbled into the Tube all were too dazed to think clearly, but the trip was a long one, because the cavity led straight through the earth to a place just opposite the Nome King's dominions, and long before the adventurers got to the end they had begun to recover their wits. "This is awful, Hank!" cried Betsy in a loud voice, and Queen Ann heard her and called out: "Are you safe, Betsy?" "Mercy, no!" answered the little girl. "How could anyone be safe when she's going about sixty miles a minute?" Then, after a pause, she added: "But where do you s'pose we're going to, Your Maj'sty?" "Don't ask her that, please don't!" said Shaggy, who was not too far away to overhear them. "And please don't ask me why, either." "Why?" said Betsy. "No one can tell where we are going until we get there," replied Shaggy, and then he yelled "Ouch!" for Polychrome had overtaken him and was now sitting on his head. The Rainbow's Daughter laughed merrily, and so infectious was this joyous laugh that Betsy echoed it and Hank said "Hee-haw!" in a mild and sympathetic tone of voice. "I'd like to know where and when we'll arrive, just the same," exclaimed the little girl. "Be patient and you'll find out, my dear," said Polychrome. "But isn't this an odd experience? Here am I, whose home is in the skies, making a journey through the center of the earth--where I never expected to be!" "How do you know we're in the center of the earth?" asked Betsy, her voice trembling a little through nervousness. "Why, we can't be anywhere else," replied Polychrome. "I have often heard of this passage, which was once built by a Magician who was a great traveler. He thought it would save him the bother of going around the earth's surface, but he tumbled through the Tube so fast that he shot out at the other end and hit a star in the sky, which at once exploded." "The star exploded?" asked Betsy wonderingly. "Yes; the Magician hit it so hard." "And what became of the Magician?" inquired the girl. "No one knows that," answered Polychrome. "But I don't think it matters much." "It matters a good deal, if we also hit the stars when we come out," said Queen Ann, with a moan. "Don't worry," advised Polychrome. "I believe the Magician was going the other way, and probably he went much faster than we are going." "It's fast enough to suit me," remarked Shaggy, gently removing Polychrome's heel from his left eye. "Couldn't you manage to fall all by yourself, my dear?" "I'll try," laughed the Rainbow's Daughter. All this time they were swiftly falling through the Tube, and it was not so easy for them to talk as you may imagine when you read their words. But although they were so helpless and altogether in the dark as to their fate, the fact that they were able to converse at all cheered them considerably. Files and Ozga were also conversing as they clung tightly to one another, and the young fellow bravely strove to reassure the Princess, although he was terribly frightened, both on her account and on his own. An hour, under such trying circumstances, is a very long time, and for more than an hour they continued their fearful journey. Then, just as they began to fear the Tube would never end, Tik-Tok popped out into broad daylight and, after making a graceful circle in the air, fell with a splash into a great marble fountain. Out came the officers, in quick succession, tumbling heels over head and striking the ground in many undignified attitudes. "For the love of sassafras!" exclaimed a Peculiar Person who was hoeing pink violets in a garden. "What can all this mean?" For answer, Queen Ann sailed up from the Tube, took a ride through the air as high as the treetops, and alighted squarely on top of the Peculiar Person's head, smashing a jeweled crown over his eyes and tumbling him to the ground. The mule was heavier and had Betsy clinging to his back, so he did not go so high up. Fortunately for his little rider he struck the ground upon his four feet. Betsy was jarred a trifle but not hurt and when she looked around her she saw the Queen and the Peculiar Person struggling together upon the ground, where the man was trying to choke Ann and she had both hands in his bushy hair and was pulling with all her might. Some of the officers, when they got upon their feet, hastened to separate the combatants and sought to restrain the Peculiar Person so that he could not attack their Queen again. [Illustration] By this time, Shaggy, Polychrome, Ozga and Files had all arrived and were curiously examining the strange country in which they found themselves and which they knew to be exactly on the opposite side of the world from the place where they had fallen into the Tube. It was a lovely place, indeed, and seemed to be the garden of some great Prince, for through the vistas of trees and shrubbery could be seen the towers of an immense castle. But as yet the only inhabitant to greet them was the Peculiar Person just mentioned, who had shaken off the grasp of the officers without effort and was now trying to pull the battered crown from off his eyes. Shaggy, who was always polite, helped him to do this and when the man was free and could see again he looked at his visitors with evident amazement. "Well, well, well!" he exclaimed. "Where did you come from and how did you get here?" Betsy tried to answer him, for Queen Ann was surly and silent. "I can't say, exac'ly where we came from, 'cause I don't know the name of the place," said the girl, "but the way we got here was through the Hollow Tube." "Don't call it a 'hollow' Tube, please," exclaimed the Peculiar Person in an irritated tone of voice. "If it's a tube, it's sure to be hollow." "Why?" asked Betsy. "Because all tubes are made that way. But this Tube is private property and everyone is forbidden to fall into it." "We didn't do it on purpose," explained Betsy, and Polychrome added: "I am quite sure that Ruggedo, the Nome King, pushed us down that Tube." "Ha! Ruggedo! Did you say Ruggedo?" cried the man, becoming much excited. "That is what she said," replied Shaggy, "and I believe she is right. We were on our way to conquer the Nome King when suddenly we fell into the Tube." "Then you are enemies of Ruggedo?" inquired the Peculiar Person. "Not exac'ly enemies," said Betsy, a little puzzled by the question, "'cause we don't know him at all; but we started out to conquer him, which isn't as friendly as it might be." "True," agreed the man. He looked thoughtfully from one to another of them for a while and then he turned his head over his shoulder and said: "Never mind the fire and pincers, my good brothers. It will be best to take these strangers to the Private Citizen." "Very well, Tubekins," responded a Voice, deep and powerful, that seemed to come out of the air, for the speaker was invisible. All our friends gave a jump, at this. Even Polychrome was so startled that her gauze draperies fluttered like a banner in a breeze. Shaggy shook his head and sighed; Queen Ann looked very unhappy; the officers clung to each other, trembling violently. But soon they gained courage to look more closely at the Peculiar Person. As he was a type of all the inhabitants of this extraordinary land whom they afterward met, I will try to tell you what he looked like. His face was beautiful, but lacked expression. His eyes were large and blue in color and his teeth finely formed and white as snow. His hair was black and bushy and seemed inclined to curl at the ends. So far no one could find any fault with his appearance. He wore a robe of scarlet, which did not cover his arms and extended no lower than his bare knees. On the bosom of the robe was embroidered a terrible dragon's head, as horrible to look at as the man was beautiful. His arms and legs were left bare and the skin of one arm was bright yellow and the skin of the other arm a vivid green. He had one blue leg and one pink one, while both his feet--which showed through the open sandals he wore--were jet black. Betsy could not decide whether these gorgeous colors were dyes or the natural tints of the skin, but while she was thinking it over the man who had been called "Tubekins" said: "Follow me to the Residence--all of you!" But just then a Voice exclaimed: "Here's another of them, Tubekins, lying in the water of the fountain." [Illustration] "Gracious!" cried Betsy; "it must be Tik-Tok, and he'll drown." "Water is a bad thing for his clockworks, anyhow," agreed Shaggy, as with one accord they all started for the fountain. But before they could reach it, invisible hands raised Tik-Tok from the marble basin and set him upon his feet beside it, water dripping from every joint of his copper body. "Ma--ny tha--tha--tha--thanks!" he said; and then his copper jaws clicked together and he could say no more. He next made an attempt to walk but after several awkward trials found he could not move his joints. Peals of jeering laughter from persons unseen greeted Tik-Tok's failure, and the new arrivals in this strange land found it very uncomfortable to realize that there were many creatures around them who were invisible, yet could be heard plainly. "Shall I wind him up?" asked Betsy, feeling very sorry for Tik-Tok. "I think his machinery is wound; but he needs oiling," replied Shaggy. At once an oil-can appeared before him, held on a level with his eyes by some unseen hand.

crowd

How many times the word 'crowd' appears in the text?

to ask the important question. She dropped to her knees, facing the flowers, and extended both her arms pleadingly toward them. "Tell me, pretty cousins," she said in her sweet, gentle voice, "which way will lead us to the Kingdom of Ruggedo, the Nome King?" At once all the stems bent gracefully to the right and the flower heads nodded once--twice--thrice in that direction. "That's it!" cried Files joyfully. "Now we know the way." Ozga rose to her feet and looked wonderingly at the field-flowers, which had now resumed their upright position. "Was it the wind, do you think?" she asked in a low whisper. "No, indeed," replied Files. "There is not a breath of wind stirring. But these lovely blossoms are indeed your cousins and answered your question at once, as I knew they would." [Illustration] CHAPTER 9 Ruggedo's Rage is Rash and Reckless The way taken by the adventurers led up hill and down dale and wound here and there in a fashion that seemed aimless. But always it drew nearer to a range of low mountains and Files said more than once that he was certain the entrance to Ruggedo's cavern would be found among these rugged hills. In this he was quite correct. Far underneath the nearest mountain was a gorgeous chamber hollowed from the solid rock, the walls and roof of which glittered with thousands of magnificent jewels. Here, on a throne of virgin gold, sat the famous Nome King, dressed in splendid robes and wearing a superb crown cut from a single blood-red ruby. Ruggedo, the Monarch of all the Metals and Precious Stones of the Underground World, was a round little man with a flowing white beard, a red face, bright eyes and a scowl that covered all his forehead. One would think, to look at him, that he ought to be jolly; one might think, considering his enormous wealth, that he ought to be happy; but this was not the case. The Metal Monarch was surly and cross because mortals had dug so much treasure out of the earth and kept it above ground, where all the power of Ruggedo and his nomes was unable to recover it. He hated not only the mortals but also the fairies who live upon the earth or above it, and instead of being content with the riches he still possessed he was unhappy because he did not own all the gold and jewels in the world. Ruggedo had been nodding, half asleep, in his chair when suddenly he sat upright uttered a roar of rage and began pounding upon a huge gong that stood beside him. The sound filled the vast cavern and penetrated to many caverns beyond, where countless thousands of nomes were working at their unending tasks, hammering out gold and silver and other metals, or melting ores in great furnaces, or polishing glittering gems. The nomes trembled at the sound of the King's gong and whispered fearfully to one another that something unpleasant was sure to happen; but none dared pause in his task. The heavy curtains of cloth-of-gold were pushed aside and Kaliko, the King's High Chamberlain, entered the royal presence. "What's up, Your Majesty?" he asked, with a wide yawn, for he had just wakened. "Up?" roared Ruggedo, stamping his foot viciously. "Those foolish mortals are up, that's what! And they want to come down." "Down here?" inquired Kaliko. "Yes!" "How do you know?" continued the Chamberlain, yawning again. "I feel it in my bones," said Ruggedo. "I can always feel it when those hateful earth-crawlers draw near to my Kingdom. I am positive, Kaliko, that mortals are this very minute on their way here to annoy me--and I hate mortals more than I do catnip tea!" "Well, what's to be done?" demanded the nome. "Look through your spyglass, and see where the invaders are," commanded the King. So Kaliko went to a tube in the wall of rock and put his eye to it. The tube ran from the cavern up to the side of the mountain and turned several curves and corners, but as it was a magic spyglass Kaliko was able to see through it just as easily as if it had been straight. "Ho--hum," said he. "I see 'em, Your Majesty." "What do they look like?" inquired the Monarch. "That's a hard question to answer, for a queerer assortment of creatures I never yet beheld," replied the nome. "However, such a collection of curiosities may prove dangerous. There's a copper man, worked by machinery--" "Bah! that's only Tik-Tok," said Ruggedo. "I'm not afraid of him. Why, only the other day I met the fellow and threw him down a well." "Then some one must have pulled him out again," said Kaliko. "And there's a little girl--" "Dorothy?" asked Ruggedo, jumping up in fear. "No; some other girl. In fact, there are several girls, of various sizes; but Dorothy is not with them, nor is Ozma." "That's good!" exclaimed the King, sighing in relief. Kaliko still had his eye to the spyglass. "I see," said he, "an army of men from Oogaboo. They are all officers and carry swords. And there is a Shaggy Man--who seems very harmless--and a little donkey with big ears." "Pooh!" cried Ruggedo, snapping his fingers in scorn. "I've no fear of such a mob as that. A dozen of my nomes can destroy them all in a jiffy." "I'm not so sure of that," said Kaliko. "The people of Oogaboo are hard to destroy, and I believe the Rose Princess is a fairy. As for Polychrome, you know very well that the Rainbow's Daughter cannot be injured by a nome." "Polychrome! Is she among them?" asked the King. "Yes; I have just recognized her." "Then these people are coming here on no peaceful errand," declared Ruggedo, scowling fiercely. "In fact, no one ever comes here on a peaceful errand. I hate everybody, and everybody hates me!" "Very true," said Kaliko. "I must in some way prevent these people from reaching my dominions. Where are they now?" "Just now they are crossing the Rubber Country, Your Majesty." "Good! Are your magnetic rubber wires in working order?" "I think so," replied Kaliko. "Is it your Royal Will that we have some fun with these invaders?" "It is," answered Ruggedo. "I want to teach them a lesson they will never forget." Now, Shaggy had no idea that he was in a Rubber Country, nor had any of his companions. They noticed that everything around them was of a dull gray color and that the path upon which they walked was soft and springy, yet they had no suspicion that the rocks and trees were rubber and even the path they trod was made of rubber. Presently they came to a brook where sparkling water dashed through a deep channel and rushed away between high rocks far down the mountain-side. Across the brook were stepping-stones, so placed that travelers might easily leap from one to another and in that manner cross the water to the farther bank. Tik-Tok was marching ahead, followed by his officers and Queen Ann. After them came Betsy Bobbin and Hank, Polychrome and Shaggy, and last of all the Rose Princess with Files. The Clockwork Man saw the stream and the stepping-stones and, without making a pause, placed his foot upon the first stone. The result was astonishing. First he sank down in the soft rubber, which then rebounded and sent Tik-Tok soaring high in the air, where he turned a succession of flip-flops and alighted upon a rubber rock far in the rear of the party. General Apple did not see Tik-Tok bound, so quickly had he disappeared; therefore he also stepped upon the stone (which you will guess was connected with Kaliko's magnetic rubber wire) and instantly shot upward like an arrow. General Cone came next and met with a like fate, but the others now noticed that something was wrong and with one accord they halted the column and looked back along the path. There was Tik-Tok, still bounding from one rubber rock to another, each time rising a less distance from the ground. And there was General Apple, bounding away in another direction, his three-cornered hat jammed over his eyes and his long sword thumping him upon the arms and head as it swung this way and that. And there, also, appeared General Cone, who had struck a rubber rock headforemost and was so crumpled up that his round body looked more like a bouncing-ball than the form of a man. Betsy laughed merrily at the strange sight and Polychrome echoed her laughter. But Ozga was grave and wondering, while Queen Ann became angry at seeing the chief officers of the Army of Oogaboo bounding around in so undignified a manner. She shouted to them to stop, but they were unable to obey, even though they would have been glad to do so. Finally, however, they all ceased bounding and managed to get upon their feet and rejoin the Army. "Why did you do that?" demanded Ann, who seemed greatly provoked. "Don't ask them why," said Shaggy earnestly. "I knew you would ask them why, but you ought not to do it. The reason is plain. Those stones are rubber; therefore they are not stones. Those rocks around us are rubber, and therefore they are not rocks. Even this path is not a path; it's rubber. Unless we are very careful, your Majesty, we are all likely to get the bounce, just as your poor officers and Tik-Tok did." [Illustration] "Then let's be careful," remarked Files, who was full of wisdom; but Polychrome wanted to test the quality of the rubber, so she began dancing. Every step sent her higher and higher into the air, so that she resembled a big butterfly fluttering lightly. Presently she made a great bound and bounded way across the stream, landing lightly and steadily on the other side. "There is no rubber over here," she called to them. "Suppose you all try to bound over the stream, without touching the stepping-stones." Ann and her officers were reluctant to undertake such a risky adventure, but Betsy at once grasped the value of the suggestion and began jumping up and down until she found herself bounding almost as high as Polychrome had done. Then she suddenly leaned forward and the next bound took her easily across the brook, where she alighted by the side of the Rainbow's Daughter. "Come on, Hank!" called the girl, and the donkey tried to obey. He managed to bound pretty high but when he tried to bound across the stream he misjudged the distance and fell with a splash into the middle of the water. "Hee-haw!" he wailed, struggling toward the far bank. Betsy rushed forward to help him out, but when the mule stood safely beside her she was amazed to find he was not wet at all. "It's dry water," said Polychrome, dipping her hand into the stream and showing how the water fell from it and left it perfectly dry. "In that case," returned Betsy, "they can all walk through the water." She called to Ozga and Shaggy to wade across, assuring them the water was shallow and would not wet them. At once they followed her advice, avoiding the rubber stepping-stones, and made the crossing with ease. This encouraged the entire party to wade through the dry water, and in a few minutes all had assembled on the bank and renewed their journey along the path that led to the Nome King's dominions. When Kaliko again looked through his magic spyglass he exclaimed: "Bad luck, Your Majesty! All the invaders have passed the Rubber Country and now are fast approaching the entrance to your caverns." Ruggedo raved and stormed at the news and his anger was so great that several times, as he strode up and down his jeweled cavern, he paused to kick Kaliko upon his shins, which were so sensitive that the poor nome howled with pain. Finally the King said: "There's no help for it; we must drop these audacious invaders down the Hollow Tube." Kaliko gave a jump, at this, and looked at his master wonderingly. "If you do that, Your Majesty," he said, "you will make Tititi-Hoochoo very angry." "Never mind that," retorted Ruggedo. "Tititi-Hoochoo lives on the other side of the world, so what do I care for his anger?" Kaliko shuddered and uttered a little groan. "Remember his terrible powers," he pleaded, "and remember that he warned you, the last time you slid people through the Hollow Tube, that if you did it again he would take vengeance upon you." The Metal Monarch walked up and down in silence, thinking deeply. "Of two dangers," said he, "it is wise to choose the least. What do you suppose these invaders want?" "Let the Long-Eared Hearer listen to them," suggested Kaliko. "Call him here at once!" commanded Ruggedo eagerly. So in a few minutes there entered the cavern a nome with enormous ears, who bowed low before the King. "Strangers are approaching," said Ruggedo, "and I wish to know their errand. Listen carefully to their talk and tell me why they are coming here, and what for." The nome bowed again and spread out his great ears, swaying them gently up and down and back and forth. For half an hour he stood silent, in an attitude of listening, while both the King and Kaliko grew impatient at the delay. At last the Long-Eared Hearer spoke: [Illustration] "Shaggy Man is coming here to rescue his brother from captivity," said he. "Ha, the Ugly One!" exclaimed Ruggedo. "Well, Shaggy Man may have his ugly brother, for all I care. He's too lazy to work and is always getting in my way. Where is the Ugly One now, Kaliko?" "The last time Your Majesty stumbled over the prisoner you commanded me to send him to the Metal Forest, which I did. I suppose he is still there." "Very good. The invaders will have a hard time finding the Metal Forest," said the King, with a grin of malicious delight, "for half the time I can't find it myself. Yet I created the forest and made every tree, out of gold and silver, so as to keep the precious metals in a safe place and out of the reach of mortals. But tell me, Hearer, do the strangers want anything else?" "Yes, indeed they do!" returned the nome. "The Army of Oogaboo is determined to capture all the rich metals and rare jewels in your kingdom, and the officers and their Queen have arranged to divide the spoils and carry them away." When he heard this Ruggedo uttered a bellow of rage and began dancing up and down, rolling his eyes, clicking his teeth together and swinging his arms furiously. Then, in an ecstasy of anger he seized the long ears of the Hearer and pulled and twisted them cruelly; but Kaliko grabbed up the King's sceptre and rapped him over the knuckles with it, so that Ruggedo let go the ears and began to chase his Royal Chamberlain around the throne. The Hearer took advantage of this opportunity to slip away from the cavern and escape, and after the King had tired himself out chasing Kaliko he threw himself into his throne and panted for breath, while he glared wickedly at his defiant subject. "You'd better save your strength to fight the enemy," suggested Kaliko. "There will be a terrible battle when the Army of Oogaboo gets here." "The Army won't get here," said the King, still coughing and panting. "I'll drop 'em down the Hollow Tube--every man Jack and every girl Jill of 'em!" "And defy Tititi-Hoochoo?" asked Kaliko. "Yes. Go at once to my Chief Magician and order him to turn the path toward the Hollow Tube, and to make the top of the Tube invisible, so they'll all fall into it." Kaliko went away shaking his head, for he thought Ruggedo was making a great mistake. He found the Magician and had the path twisted so that it led directly to the opening of the Hollow Tube, and this opening he made invisible. Having obeyed the orders of his master, the Royal Chamberlain went to his private room and began to write letters of recommendation of himself, stating that he was an honest man, a good servant and a small eater. "Pretty soon," he said to himself, "I shall have to look for another job, for it is certain that Ruggedo has ruined himself by this reckless defiance of the mighty Tititi-Hoochoo. And in seeking a job nothing is so effective as a letter of recommendation." [Illustration] [Illustration] CHAPTER 10 A Terrible Tumble Through a Tube I suppose that Polychrome, and perhaps Queen Ann and her Army, might have been able to dispel the enchantment of Ruggedo's Chief Magician had they known that danger lay in their pathway; for the Rainbow's Daughter was a fairy and as Oogaboo is a part of the Land of Oz its inhabitants cannot easily be deceived by such common magic as the Nome King could command. But no one suspected any especial danger until after they had entered Ruggedo's cavern, and so they were journeying along in quite a contented manner when Tik-Tok, who marched ahead, suddenly disappeared. The officers thought he must have turned a corner, so they kept on their way and all of them likewise disappeared--one after another. Queen Ann was rather surprised at this, and in hastening forward to learn the reason she also vanished from sight. Betsy Bobbin had tired her feet by walking, so she was now riding upon the back of the stout little mule, facing backward and talking to Shaggy and Polychrome, who were just behind. Suddenly Hank pitched forward and began falling and Betsy would have tumbled over his head had she not grabbed the mule's shaggy neck with both arms and held on for dear life. All around was darkness, and they were not falling directly downward but seemed to be sliding along a steep incline. Hank's hoofs were resting upon some smooth substance over which he slid with the swiftness of the wind. Once Betsy's heels flew up and struck a similar substance overhead. They were, indeed, descending the "Hollow Tube" that led to the other side of the world. "Stop, Hank--stop!" cried the girl; but Hank only uttered a plaintive "Hee-haw!" for it was impossible for him to obey. After several minutes had passed and no harm had befallen them, Betsy gained courage. She could see nothing at all, nor could she hear anything except the rush of air past her ears as they plunged downward along the Tube. Whether she and Hank were alone, or the others were with them, she could not tell. But had some one been able to take a flash-light photograph of the Tube at that time a most curious picture would have resulted. There was Tik-Tok, flat upon his back and sliding headforemost down the incline. And there were the Officers of the Army of Oogaboo, all tangled up in a confused crowd, flapping their arms and trying to shield their faces from the clanking swords, which swung back and forth during the swift journey and pommeled everyone within their reach. Now followed Queen Ann, who had struck the Tube in a sitting position and went flying along with a dash and abandon that thoroughly bewildered the poor lady, who had no idea what had happened to her. Then, a little distance away, but unseen by the others in the inky darkness, slid Betsy and Hank, while behind them were Shaggy and Polychrome and finally Files and the Princess. When first they tumbled into the Tube all were too dazed to think clearly, but the trip was a long one, because the cavity led straight through the earth to a place just opposite the Nome King's dominions, and long before the adventurers got to the end they had begun to recover their wits. "This is awful, Hank!" cried Betsy in a loud voice, and Queen Ann heard her and called out: "Are you safe, Betsy?" "Mercy, no!" answered the little girl. "How could anyone be safe when she's going about sixty miles a minute?" Then, after a pause, she added: "But where do you s'pose we're going to, Your Maj'sty?" "Don't ask her that, please don't!" said Shaggy, who was not too far away to overhear them. "And please don't ask me why, either." "Why?" said Betsy. "No one can tell where we are going until we get there," replied Shaggy, and then he yelled "Ouch!" for Polychrome had overtaken him and was now sitting on his head. The Rainbow's Daughter laughed merrily, and so infectious was this joyous laugh that Betsy echoed it and Hank said "Hee-haw!" in a mild and sympathetic tone of voice. "I'd like to know where and when we'll arrive, just the same," exclaimed the little girl. "Be patient and you'll find out, my dear," said Polychrome. "But isn't this an odd experience? Here am I, whose home is in the skies, making a journey through the center of the earth--where I never expected to be!" "How do you know we're in the center of the earth?" asked Betsy, her voice trembling a little through nervousness. "Why, we can't be anywhere else," replied Polychrome. "I have often heard of this passage, which was once built by a Magician who was a great traveler. He thought it would save him the bother of going around the earth's surface, but he tumbled through the Tube so fast that he shot out at the other end and hit a star in the sky, which at once exploded." "The star exploded?" asked Betsy wonderingly. "Yes; the Magician hit it so hard." "And what became of the Magician?" inquired the girl. "No one knows that," answered Polychrome. "But I don't think it matters much." "It matters a good deal, if we also hit the stars when we come out," said Queen Ann, with a moan. "Don't worry," advised Polychrome. "I believe the Magician was going the other way, and probably he went much faster than we are going." "It's fast enough to suit me," remarked Shaggy, gently removing Polychrome's heel from his left eye. "Couldn't you manage to fall all by yourself, my dear?" "I'll try," laughed the Rainbow's Daughter. All this time they were swiftly falling through the Tube, and it was not so easy for them to talk as you may imagine when you read their words. But although they were so helpless and altogether in the dark as to their fate, the fact that they were able to converse at all cheered them considerably. Files and Ozga were also conversing as they clung tightly to one another, and the young fellow bravely strove to reassure the Princess, although he was terribly frightened, both on her account and on his own. An hour, under such trying circumstances, is a very long time, and for more than an hour they continued their fearful journey. Then, just as they began to fear the Tube would never end, Tik-Tok popped out into broad daylight and, after making a graceful circle in the air, fell with a splash into a great marble fountain. Out came the officers, in quick succession, tumbling heels over head and striking the ground in many undignified attitudes. "For the love of sassafras!" exclaimed a Peculiar Person who was hoeing pink violets in a garden. "What can all this mean?" For answer, Queen Ann sailed up from the Tube, took a ride through the air as high as the treetops, and alighted squarely on top of the Peculiar Person's head, smashing a jeweled crown over his eyes and tumbling him to the ground. The mule was heavier and had Betsy clinging to his back, so he did not go so high up. Fortunately for his little rider he struck the ground upon his four feet. Betsy was jarred a trifle but not hurt and when she looked around her she saw the Queen and the Peculiar Person struggling together upon the ground, where the man was trying to choke Ann and she had both hands in his bushy hair and was pulling with all her might. Some of the officers, when they got upon their feet, hastened to separate the combatants and sought to restrain the Peculiar Person so that he could not attack their Queen again. [Illustration] By this time, Shaggy, Polychrome, Ozga and Files had all arrived and were curiously examining the strange country in which they found themselves and which they knew to be exactly on the opposite side of the world from the place where they had fallen into the Tube. It was a lovely place, indeed, and seemed to be the garden of some great Prince, for through the vistas of trees and shrubbery could be seen the towers of an immense castle. But as yet the only inhabitant to greet them was the Peculiar Person just mentioned, who had shaken off the grasp of the officers without effort and was now trying to pull the battered crown from off his eyes. Shaggy, who was always polite, helped him to do this and when the man was free and could see again he looked at his visitors with evident amazement. "Well, well, well!" he exclaimed. "Where did you come from and how did you get here?" Betsy tried to answer him, for Queen Ann was surly and silent. "I can't say, exac'ly where we came from, 'cause I don't know the name of the place," said the girl, "but the way we got here was through the Hollow Tube." "Don't call it a 'hollow' Tube, please," exclaimed the Peculiar Person in an irritated tone of voice. "If it's a tube, it's sure to be hollow." "Why?" asked Betsy. "Because all tubes are made that way. But this Tube is private property and everyone is forbidden to fall into it." "We didn't do it on purpose," explained Betsy, and Polychrome added: "I am quite sure that Ruggedo, the Nome King, pushed us down that Tube." "Ha! Ruggedo! Did you say Ruggedo?" cried the man, becoming much excited. "That is what she said," replied Shaggy, "and I believe she is right. We were on our way to conquer the Nome King when suddenly we fell into the Tube." "Then you are enemies of Ruggedo?" inquired the Peculiar Person. "Not exac'ly enemies," said Betsy, a little puzzled by the question, "'cause we don't know him at all; but we started out to conquer him, which isn't as friendly as it might be." "True," agreed the man. He looked thoughtfully from one to another of them for a while and then he turned his head over his shoulder and said: "Never mind the fire and pincers, my good brothers. It will be best to take these strangers to the Private Citizen." "Very well, Tubekins," responded a Voice, deep and powerful, that seemed to come out of the air, for the speaker was invisible. All our friends gave a jump, at this. Even Polychrome was so startled that her gauze draperies fluttered like a banner in a breeze. Shaggy shook his head and sighed; Queen Ann looked very unhappy; the officers clung to each other, trembling violently. But soon they gained courage to look more closely at the Peculiar Person. As he was a type of all the inhabitants of this extraordinary land whom they afterward met, I will try to tell you what he looked like. His face was beautiful, but lacked expression. His eyes were large and blue in color and his teeth finely formed and white as snow. His hair was black and bushy and seemed inclined to curl at the ends. So far no one could find any fault with his appearance. He wore a robe of scarlet, which did not cover his arms and extended no lower than his bare knees. On the bosom of the robe was embroidered a terrible dragon's head, as horrible to look at as the man was beautiful. His arms and legs were left bare and the skin of one arm was bright yellow and the skin of the other arm a vivid green. He had one blue leg and one pink one, while both his feet--which showed through the open sandals he wore--were jet black. Betsy could not decide whether these gorgeous colors were dyes or the natural tints of the skin, but while she was thinking it over the man who had been called "Tubekins" said: "Follow me to the Residence--all of you!" But just then a Voice exclaimed: "Here's another of them, Tubekins, lying in the water of the fountain." [Illustration] "Gracious!" cried Betsy; "it must be Tik-Tok, and he'll drown." "Water is a bad thing for his clockworks, anyhow," agreed Shaggy, as with one accord they all started for the fountain. But before they could reach it, invisible hands raised Tik-Tok from the marble basin and set him upon his feet beside it, water dripping from every joint of his copper body. "Ma--ny tha--tha--tha--thanks!" he said; and then his copper jaws clicked together and he could say no more. He next made an attempt to walk but after several awkward trials found he could not move his joints. Peals of jeering laughter from persons unseen greeted Tik-Tok's failure, and the new arrivals in this strange land found it very uncomfortable to realize that there were many creatures around them who were invisible, yet could be heard plainly. "Shall I wind him up?" asked Betsy, feeling very sorry for Tik-Tok. "I think his machinery is wound; but he needs oiling," replied Shaggy. At once an oil-can appeared before him, held on a level with his eyes by some unseen hand.

lazy

How many times the word 'lazy' appears in the text?

to ask the important question. She dropped to her knees, facing the flowers, and extended both her arms pleadingly toward them. "Tell me, pretty cousins," she said in her sweet, gentle voice, "which way will lead us to the Kingdom of Ruggedo, the Nome King?" At once all the stems bent gracefully to the right and the flower heads nodded once--twice--thrice in that direction. "That's it!" cried Files joyfully. "Now we know the way." Ozga rose to her feet and looked wonderingly at the field-flowers, which had now resumed their upright position. "Was it the wind, do you think?" she asked in a low whisper. "No, indeed," replied Files. "There is not a breath of wind stirring. But these lovely blossoms are indeed your cousins and answered your question at once, as I knew they would." [Illustration] CHAPTER 9 Ruggedo's Rage is Rash and Reckless The way taken by the adventurers led up hill and down dale and wound here and there in a fashion that seemed aimless. But always it drew nearer to a range of low mountains and Files said more than once that he was certain the entrance to Ruggedo's cavern would be found among these rugged hills. In this he was quite correct. Far underneath the nearest mountain was a gorgeous chamber hollowed from the solid rock, the walls and roof of which glittered with thousands of magnificent jewels. Here, on a throne of virgin gold, sat the famous Nome King, dressed in splendid robes and wearing a superb crown cut from a single blood-red ruby. Ruggedo, the Monarch of all the Metals and Precious Stones of the Underground World, was a round little man with a flowing white beard, a red face, bright eyes and a scowl that covered all his forehead. One would think, to look at him, that he ought to be jolly; one might think, considering his enormous wealth, that he ought to be happy; but this was not the case. The Metal Monarch was surly and cross because mortals had dug so much treasure out of the earth and kept it above ground, where all the power of Ruggedo and his nomes was unable to recover it. He hated not only the mortals but also the fairies who live upon the earth or above it, and instead of being content with the riches he still possessed he was unhappy because he did not own all the gold and jewels in the world. Ruggedo had been nodding, half asleep, in his chair when suddenly he sat upright uttered a roar of rage and began pounding upon a huge gong that stood beside him. The sound filled the vast cavern and penetrated to many caverns beyond, where countless thousands of nomes were working at their unending tasks, hammering out gold and silver and other metals, or melting ores in great furnaces, or polishing glittering gems. The nomes trembled at the sound of the King's gong and whispered fearfully to one another that something unpleasant was sure to happen; but none dared pause in his task. The heavy curtains of cloth-of-gold were pushed aside and Kaliko, the King's High Chamberlain, entered the royal presence. "What's up, Your Majesty?" he asked, with a wide yawn, for he had just wakened. "Up?" roared Ruggedo, stamping his foot viciously. "Those foolish mortals are up, that's what! And they want to come down." "Down here?" inquired Kaliko. "Yes!" "How do you know?" continued the Chamberlain, yawning again. "I feel it in my bones," said Ruggedo. "I can always feel it when those hateful earth-crawlers draw near to my Kingdom. I am positive, Kaliko, that mortals are this very minute on their way here to annoy me--and I hate mortals more than I do catnip tea!" "Well, what's to be done?" demanded the nome. "Look through your spyglass, and see where the invaders are," commanded the King. So Kaliko went to a tube in the wall of rock and put his eye to it. The tube ran from the cavern up to the side of the mountain and turned several curves and corners, but as it was a magic spyglass Kaliko was able to see through it just as easily as if it had been straight. "Ho--hum," said he. "I see 'em, Your Majesty." "What do they look like?" inquired the Monarch. "That's a hard question to answer, for a queerer assortment of creatures I never yet beheld," replied the nome. "However, such a collection of curiosities may prove dangerous. There's a copper man, worked by machinery--" "Bah! that's only Tik-Tok," said Ruggedo. "I'm not afraid of him. Why, only the other day I met the fellow and threw him down a well." "Then some one must have pulled him out again," said Kaliko. "And there's a little girl--" "Dorothy?" asked Ruggedo, jumping up in fear. "No; some other girl. In fact, there are several girls, of various sizes; but Dorothy is not with them, nor is Ozma." "That's good!" exclaimed the King, sighing in relief. Kaliko still had his eye to the spyglass. "I see," said he, "an army of men from Oogaboo. They are all officers and carry swords. And there is a Shaggy Man--who seems very harmless--and a little donkey with big ears." "Pooh!" cried Ruggedo, snapping his fingers in scorn. "I've no fear of such a mob as that. A dozen of my nomes can destroy them all in a jiffy." "I'm not so sure of that," said Kaliko. "The people of Oogaboo are hard to destroy, and I believe the Rose Princess is a fairy. As for Polychrome, you know very well that the Rainbow's Daughter cannot be injured by a nome." "Polychrome! Is she among them?" asked the King. "Yes; I have just recognized her." "Then these people are coming here on no peaceful errand," declared Ruggedo, scowling fiercely. "In fact, no one ever comes here on a peaceful errand. I hate everybody, and everybody hates me!" "Very true," said Kaliko. "I must in some way prevent these people from reaching my dominions. Where are they now?" "Just now they are crossing the Rubber Country, Your Majesty." "Good! Are your magnetic rubber wires in working order?" "I think so," replied Kaliko. "Is it your Royal Will that we have some fun with these invaders?" "It is," answered Ruggedo. "I want to teach them a lesson they will never forget." Now, Shaggy had no idea that he was in a Rubber Country, nor had any of his companions. They noticed that everything around them was of a dull gray color and that the path upon which they walked was soft and springy, yet they had no suspicion that the rocks and trees were rubber and even the path they trod was made of rubber. Presently they came to a brook where sparkling water dashed through a deep channel and rushed away between high rocks far down the mountain-side. Across the brook were stepping-stones, so placed that travelers might easily leap from one to another and in that manner cross the water to the farther bank. Tik-Tok was marching ahead, followed by his officers and Queen Ann. After them came Betsy Bobbin and Hank, Polychrome and Shaggy, and last of all the Rose Princess with Files. The Clockwork Man saw the stream and the stepping-stones and, without making a pause, placed his foot upon the first stone. The result was astonishing. First he sank down in the soft rubber, which then rebounded and sent Tik-Tok soaring high in the air, where he turned a succession of flip-flops and alighted upon a rubber rock far in the rear of the party. General Apple did not see Tik-Tok bound, so quickly had he disappeared; therefore he also stepped upon the stone (which you will guess was connected with Kaliko's magnetic rubber wire) and instantly shot upward like an arrow. General Cone came next and met with a like fate, but the others now noticed that something was wrong and with one accord they halted the column and looked back along the path. There was Tik-Tok, still bounding from one rubber rock to another, each time rising a less distance from the ground. And there was General Apple, bounding away in another direction, his three-cornered hat jammed over his eyes and his long sword thumping him upon the arms and head as it swung this way and that. And there, also, appeared General Cone, who had struck a rubber rock headforemost and was so crumpled up that his round body looked more like a bouncing-ball than the form of a man. Betsy laughed merrily at the strange sight and Polychrome echoed her laughter. But Ozga was grave and wondering, while Queen Ann became angry at seeing the chief officers of the Army of Oogaboo bounding around in so undignified a manner. She shouted to them to stop, but they were unable to obey, even though they would have been glad to do so. Finally, however, they all ceased bounding and managed to get upon their feet and rejoin the Army. "Why did you do that?" demanded Ann, who seemed greatly provoked. "Don't ask them why," said Shaggy earnestly. "I knew you would ask them why, but you ought not to do it. The reason is plain. Those stones are rubber; therefore they are not stones. Those rocks around us are rubber, and therefore they are not rocks. Even this path is not a path; it's rubber. Unless we are very careful, your Majesty, we are all likely to get the bounce, just as your poor officers and Tik-Tok did." [Illustration] "Then let's be careful," remarked Files, who was full of wisdom; but Polychrome wanted to test the quality of the rubber, so she began dancing. Every step sent her higher and higher into the air, so that she resembled a big butterfly fluttering lightly. Presently she made a great bound and bounded way across the stream, landing lightly and steadily on the other side. "There is no rubber over here," she called to them. "Suppose you all try to bound over the stream, without touching the stepping-stones." Ann and her officers were reluctant to undertake such a risky adventure, but Betsy at once grasped the value of the suggestion and began jumping up and down until she found herself bounding almost as high as Polychrome had done. Then she suddenly leaned forward and the next bound took her easily across the brook, where she alighted by the side of the Rainbow's Daughter. "Come on, Hank!" called the girl, and the donkey tried to obey. He managed to bound pretty high but when he tried to bound across the stream he misjudged the distance and fell with a splash into the middle of the water. "Hee-haw!" he wailed, struggling toward the far bank. Betsy rushed forward to help him out, but when the mule stood safely beside her she was amazed to find he was not wet at all. "It's dry water," said Polychrome, dipping her hand into the stream and showing how the water fell from it and left it perfectly dry. "In that case," returned Betsy, "they can all walk through the water." She called to Ozga and Shaggy to wade across, assuring them the water was shallow and would not wet them. At once they followed her advice, avoiding the rubber stepping-stones, and made the crossing with ease. This encouraged the entire party to wade through the dry water, and in a few minutes all had assembled on the bank and renewed their journey along the path that led to the Nome King's dominions. When Kaliko again looked through his magic spyglass he exclaimed: "Bad luck, Your Majesty! All the invaders have passed the Rubber Country and now are fast approaching the entrance to your caverns." Ruggedo raved and stormed at the news and his anger was so great that several times, as he strode up and down his jeweled cavern, he paused to kick Kaliko upon his shins, which were so sensitive that the poor nome howled with pain. Finally the King said: "There's no help for it; we must drop these audacious invaders down the Hollow Tube." Kaliko gave a jump, at this, and looked at his master wonderingly. "If you do that, Your Majesty," he said, "you will make Tititi-Hoochoo very angry." "Never mind that," retorted Ruggedo. "Tititi-Hoochoo lives on the other side of the world, so what do I care for his anger?" Kaliko shuddered and uttered a little groan. "Remember his terrible powers," he pleaded, "and remember that he warned you, the last time you slid people through the Hollow Tube, that if you did it again he would take vengeance upon you." The Metal Monarch walked up and down in silence, thinking deeply. "Of two dangers," said he, "it is wise to choose the least. What do you suppose these invaders want?" "Let the Long-Eared Hearer listen to them," suggested Kaliko. "Call him here at once!" commanded Ruggedo eagerly. So in a few minutes there entered the cavern a nome with enormous ears, who bowed low before the King. "Strangers are approaching," said Ruggedo, "and I wish to know their errand. Listen carefully to their talk and tell me why they are coming here, and what for." The nome bowed again and spread out his great ears, swaying them gently up and down and back and forth. For half an hour he stood silent, in an attitude of listening, while both the King and Kaliko grew impatient at the delay. At last the Long-Eared Hearer spoke: [Illustration] "Shaggy Man is coming here to rescue his brother from captivity," said he. "Ha, the Ugly One!" exclaimed Ruggedo. "Well, Shaggy Man may have his ugly brother, for all I care. He's too lazy to work and is always getting in my way. Where is the Ugly One now, Kaliko?" "The last time Your Majesty stumbled over the prisoner you commanded me to send him to the Metal Forest, which I did. I suppose he is still there." "Very good. The invaders will have a hard time finding the Metal Forest," said the King, with a grin of malicious delight, "for half the time I can't find it myself. Yet I created the forest and made every tree, out of gold and silver, so as to keep the precious metals in a safe place and out of the reach of mortals. But tell me, Hearer, do the strangers want anything else?" "Yes, indeed they do!" returned the nome. "The Army of Oogaboo is determined to capture all the rich metals and rare jewels in your kingdom, and the officers and their Queen have arranged to divide the spoils and carry them away." When he heard this Ruggedo uttered a bellow of rage and began dancing up and down, rolling his eyes, clicking his teeth together and swinging his arms furiously. Then, in an ecstasy of anger he seized the long ears of the Hearer and pulled and twisted them cruelly; but Kaliko grabbed up the King's sceptre and rapped him over the knuckles with it, so that Ruggedo let go the ears and began to chase his Royal Chamberlain around the throne. The Hearer took advantage of this opportunity to slip away from the cavern and escape, and after the King had tired himself out chasing Kaliko he threw himself into his throne and panted for breath, while he glared wickedly at his defiant subject. "You'd better save your strength to fight the enemy," suggested Kaliko. "There will be a terrible battle when the Army of Oogaboo gets here." "The Army won't get here," said the King, still coughing and panting. "I'll drop 'em down the Hollow Tube--every man Jack and every girl Jill of 'em!" "And defy Tititi-Hoochoo?" asked Kaliko. "Yes. Go at once to my Chief Magician and order him to turn the path toward the Hollow Tube, and to make the top of the Tube invisible, so they'll all fall into it." Kaliko went away shaking his head, for he thought Ruggedo was making a great mistake. He found the Magician and had the path twisted so that it led directly to the opening of the Hollow Tube, and this opening he made invisible. Having obeyed the orders of his master, the Royal Chamberlain went to his private room and began to write letters of recommendation of himself, stating that he was an honest man, a good servant and a small eater. "Pretty soon," he said to himself, "I shall have to look for another job, for it is certain that Ruggedo has ruined himself by this reckless defiance of the mighty Tititi-Hoochoo. And in seeking a job nothing is so effective as a letter of recommendation." [Illustration] [Illustration] CHAPTER 10 A Terrible Tumble Through a Tube I suppose that Polychrome, and perhaps Queen Ann and her Army, might have been able to dispel the enchantment of Ruggedo's Chief Magician had they known that danger lay in their pathway; for the Rainbow's Daughter was a fairy and as Oogaboo is a part of the Land of Oz its inhabitants cannot easily be deceived by such common magic as the Nome King could command. But no one suspected any especial danger until after they had entered Ruggedo's cavern, and so they were journeying along in quite a contented manner when Tik-Tok, who marched ahead, suddenly disappeared. The officers thought he must have turned a corner, so they kept on their way and all of them likewise disappeared--one after another. Queen Ann was rather surprised at this, and in hastening forward to learn the reason she also vanished from sight. Betsy Bobbin had tired her feet by walking, so she was now riding upon the back of the stout little mule, facing backward and talking to Shaggy and Polychrome, who were just behind. Suddenly Hank pitched forward and began falling and Betsy would have tumbled over his head had she not grabbed the mule's shaggy neck with both arms and held on for dear life. All around was darkness, and they were not falling directly downward but seemed to be sliding along a steep incline. Hank's hoofs were resting upon some smooth substance over which he slid with the swiftness of the wind. Once Betsy's heels flew up and struck a similar substance overhead. They were, indeed, descending the "Hollow Tube" that led to the other side of the world. "Stop, Hank--stop!" cried the girl; but Hank only uttered a plaintive "Hee-haw!" for it was impossible for him to obey. After several minutes had passed and no harm had befallen them, Betsy gained courage. She could see nothing at all, nor could she hear anything except the rush of air past her ears as they plunged downward along the Tube. Whether she and Hank were alone, or the others were with them, she could not tell. But had some one been able to take a flash-light photograph of the Tube at that time a most curious picture would have resulted. There was Tik-Tok, flat upon his back and sliding headforemost down the incline. And there were the Officers of the Army of Oogaboo, all tangled up in a confused crowd, flapping their arms and trying to shield their faces from the clanking swords, which swung back and forth during the swift journey and pommeled everyone within their reach. Now followed Queen Ann, who had struck the Tube in a sitting position and went flying along with a dash and abandon that thoroughly bewildered the poor lady, who had no idea what had happened to her. Then, a little distance away, but unseen by the others in the inky darkness, slid Betsy and Hank, while behind them were Shaggy and Polychrome and finally Files and the Princess. When first they tumbled into the Tube all were too dazed to think clearly, but the trip was a long one, because the cavity led straight through the earth to a place just opposite the Nome King's dominions, and long before the adventurers got to the end they had begun to recover their wits. "This is awful, Hank!" cried Betsy in a loud voice, and Queen Ann heard her and called out: "Are you safe, Betsy?" "Mercy, no!" answered the little girl. "How could anyone be safe when she's going about sixty miles a minute?" Then, after a pause, she added: "But where do you s'pose we're going to, Your Maj'sty?" "Don't ask her that, please don't!" said Shaggy, who was not too far away to overhear them. "And please don't ask me why, either." "Why?" said Betsy. "No one can tell where we are going until we get there," replied Shaggy, and then he yelled "Ouch!" for Polychrome had overtaken him and was now sitting on his head. The Rainbow's Daughter laughed merrily, and so infectious was this joyous laugh that Betsy echoed it and Hank said "Hee-haw!" in a mild and sympathetic tone of voice. "I'd like to know where and when we'll arrive, just the same," exclaimed the little girl. "Be patient and you'll find out, my dear," said Polychrome. "But isn't this an odd experience? Here am I, whose home is in the skies, making a journey through the center of the earth--where I never expected to be!" "How do you know we're in the center of the earth?" asked Betsy, her voice trembling a little through nervousness. "Why, we can't be anywhere else," replied Polychrome. "I have often heard of this passage, which was once built by a Magician who was a great traveler. He thought it would save him the bother of going around the earth's surface, but he tumbled through the Tube so fast that he shot out at the other end and hit a star in the sky, which at once exploded." "The star exploded?" asked Betsy wonderingly. "Yes; the Magician hit it so hard." "And what became of the Magician?" inquired the girl. "No one knows that," answered Polychrome. "But I don't think it matters much." "It matters a good deal, if we also hit the stars when we come out," said Queen Ann, with a moan. "Don't worry," advised Polychrome. "I believe the Magician was going the other way, and probably he went much faster than we are going." "It's fast enough to suit me," remarked Shaggy, gently removing Polychrome's heel from his left eye. "Couldn't you manage to fall all by yourself, my dear?" "I'll try," laughed the Rainbow's Daughter. All this time they were swiftly falling through the Tube, and it was not so easy for them to talk as you may imagine when you read their words. But although they were so helpless and altogether in the dark as to their fate, the fact that they were able to converse at all cheered them considerably. Files and Ozga were also conversing as they clung tightly to one another, and the young fellow bravely strove to reassure the Princess, although he was terribly frightened, both on her account and on his own. An hour, under such trying circumstances, is a very long time, and for more than an hour they continued their fearful journey. Then, just as they began to fear the Tube would never end, Tik-Tok popped out into broad daylight and, after making a graceful circle in the air, fell with a splash into a great marble fountain. Out came the officers, in quick succession, tumbling heels over head and striking the ground in many undignified attitudes. "For the love of sassafras!" exclaimed a Peculiar Person who was hoeing pink violets in a garden. "What can all this mean?" For answer, Queen Ann sailed up from the Tube, took a ride through the air as high as the treetops, and alighted squarely on top of the Peculiar Person's head, smashing a jeweled crown over his eyes and tumbling him to the ground. The mule was heavier and had Betsy clinging to his back, so he did not go so high up. Fortunately for his little rider he struck the ground upon his four feet. Betsy was jarred a trifle but not hurt and when she looked around her she saw the Queen and the Peculiar Person struggling together upon the ground, where the man was trying to choke Ann and she had both hands in his bushy hair and was pulling with all her might. Some of the officers, when they got upon their feet, hastened to separate the combatants and sought to restrain the Peculiar Person so that he could not attack their Queen again. [Illustration] By this time, Shaggy, Polychrome, Ozga and Files had all arrived and were curiously examining the strange country in which they found themselves and which they knew to be exactly on the opposite side of the world from the place where they had fallen into the Tube. It was a lovely place, indeed, and seemed to be the garden of some great Prince, for through the vistas of trees and shrubbery could be seen the towers of an immense castle. But as yet the only inhabitant to greet them was the Peculiar Person just mentioned, who had shaken off the grasp of the officers without effort and was now trying to pull the battered crown from off his eyes. Shaggy, who was always polite, helped him to do this and when the man was free and could see again he looked at his visitors with evident amazement. "Well, well, well!" he exclaimed. "Where did you come from and how did you get here?" Betsy tried to answer him, for Queen Ann was surly and silent. "I can't say, exac'ly where we came from, 'cause I don't know the name of the place," said the girl, "but the way we got here was through the Hollow Tube." "Don't call it a 'hollow' Tube, please," exclaimed the Peculiar Person in an irritated tone of voice. "If it's a tube, it's sure to be hollow." "Why?" asked Betsy. "Because all tubes are made that way. But this Tube is private property and everyone is forbidden to fall into it." "We didn't do it on purpose," explained Betsy, and Polychrome added: "I am quite sure that Ruggedo, the Nome King, pushed us down that Tube." "Ha! Ruggedo! Did you say Ruggedo?" cried the man, becoming much excited. "That is what she said," replied Shaggy, "and I believe she is right. We were on our way to conquer the Nome King when suddenly we fell into the Tube." "Then you are enemies of Ruggedo?" inquired the Peculiar Person. "Not exac'ly enemies," said Betsy, a little puzzled by the question, "'cause we don't know him at all; but we started out to conquer him, which isn't as friendly as it might be." "True," agreed the man. He looked thoughtfully from one to another of them for a while and then he turned his head over his shoulder and said: "Never mind the fire and pincers, my good brothers. It will be best to take these strangers to the Private Citizen." "Very well, Tubekins," responded a Voice, deep and powerful, that seemed to come out of the air, for the speaker was invisible. All our friends gave a jump, at this. Even Polychrome was so startled that her gauze draperies fluttered like a banner in a breeze. Shaggy shook his head and sighed; Queen Ann looked very unhappy; the officers clung to each other, trembling violently. But soon they gained courage to look more closely at the Peculiar Person. As he was a type of all the inhabitants of this extraordinary land whom they afterward met, I will try to tell you what he looked like. His face was beautiful, but lacked expression. His eyes were large and blue in color and his teeth finely formed and white as snow. His hair was black and bushy and seemed inclined to curl at the ends. So far no one could find any fault with his appearance. He wore a robe of scarlet, which did not cover his arms and extended no lower than his bare knees. On the bosom of the robe was embroidered a terrible dragon's head, as horrible to look at as the man was beautiful. His arms and legs were left bare and the skin of one arm was bright yellow and the skin of the other arm a vivid green. He had one blue leg and one pink one, while both his feet--which showed through the open sandals he wore--were jet black. Betsy could not decide whether these gorgeous colors were dyes or the natural tints of the skin, but while she was thinking it over the man who had been called "Tubekins" said: "Follow me to the Residence--all of you!" But just then a Voice exclaimed: "Here's another of them, Tubekins, lying in the water of the fountain." [Illustration] "Gracious!" cried Betsy; "it must be Tik-Tok, and he'll drown." "Water is a bad thing for his clockworks, anyhow," agreed Shaggy, as with one accord they all started for the fountain. But before they could reach it, invisible hands raised Tik-Tok from the marble basin and set him upon his feet beside it, water dripping from every joint of his copper body. "Ma--ny tha--tha--tha--thanks!" he said; and then his copper jaws clicked together and he could say no more. He next made an attempt to walk but after several awkward trials found he could not move his joints. Peals of jeering laughter from persons unseen greeted Tik-Tok's failure, and the new arrivals in this strange land found it very uncomfortable to realize that there were many creatures around them who were invisible, yet could be heard plainly. "Shall I wind him up?" asked Betsy, feeling very sorry for Tik-Tok. "I think his machinery is wound; but he needs oiling," replied Shaggy. At once an oil-can appeared before him, held on a level with his eyes by some unseen hand.

poked

How many times the word 'poked' appears in the text?

to ask the important question. She dropped to her knees, facing the flowers, and extended both her arms pleadingly toward them. "Tell me, pretty cousins," she said in her sweet, gentle voice, "which way will lead us to the Kingdom of Ruggedo, the Nome King?" At once all the stems bent gracefully to the right and the flower heads nodded once--twice--thrice in that direction. "That's it!" cried Files joyfully. "Now we know the way." Ozga rose to her feet and looked wonderingly at the field-flowers, which had now resumed their upright position. "Was it the wind, do you think?" she asked in a low whisper. "No, indeed," replied Files. "There is not a breath of wind stirring. But these lovely blossoms are indeed your cousins and answered your question at once, as I knew they would." [Illustration] CHAPTER 9 Ruggedo's Rage is Rash and Reckless The way taken by the adventurers led up hill and down dale and wound here and there in a fashion that seemed aimless. But always it drew nearer to a range of low mountains and Files said more than once that he was certain the entrance to Ruggedo's cavern would be found among these rugged hills. In this he was quite correct. Far underneath the nearest mountain was a gorgeous chamber hollowed from the solid rock, the walls and roof of which glittered with thousands of magnificent jewels. Here, on a throne of virgin gold, sat the famous Nome King, dressed in splendid robes and wearing a superb crown cut from a single blood-red ruby. Ruggedo, the Monarch of all the Metals and Precious Stones of the Underground World, was a round little man with a flowing white beard, a red face, bright eyes and a scowl that covered all his forehead. One would think, to look at him, that he ought to be jolly; one might think, considering his enormous wealth, that he ought to be happy; but this was not the case. The Metal Monarch was surly and cross because mortals had dug so much treasure out of the earth and kept it above ground, where all the power of Ruggedo and his nomes was unable to recover it. He hated not only the mortals but also the fairies who live upon the earth or above it, and instead of being content with the riches he still possessed he was unhappy because he did not own all the gold and jewels in the world. Ruggedo had been nodding, half asleep, in his chair when suddenly he sat upright uttered a roar of rage and began pounding upon a huge gong that stood beside him. The sound filled the vast cavern and penetrated to many caverns beyond, where countless thousands of nomes were working at their unending tasks, hammering out gold and silver and other metals, or melting ores in great furnaces, or polishing glittering gems. The nomes trembled at the sound of the King's gong and whispered fearfully to one another that something unpleasant was sure to happen; but none dared pause in his task. The heavy curtains of cloth-of-gold were pushed aside and Kaliko, the King's High Chamberlain, entered the royal presence. "What's up, Your Majesty?" he asked, with a wide yawn, for he had just wakened. "Up?" roared Ruggedo, stamping his foot viciously. "Those foolish mortals are up, that's what! And they want to come down." "Down here?" inquired Kaliko. "Yes!" "How do you know?" continued the Chamberlain, yawning again. "I feel it in my bones," said Ruggedo. "I can always feel it when those hateful earth-crawlers draw near to my Kingdom. I am positive, Kaliko, that mortals are this very minute on their way here to annoy me--and I hate mortals more than I do catnip tea!" "Well, what's to be done?" demanded the nome. "Look through your spyglass, and see where the invaders are," commanded the King. So Kaliko went to a tube in the wall of rock and put his eye to it. The tube ran from the cavern up to the side of the mountain and turned several curves and corners, but as it was a magic spyglass Kaliko was able to see through it just as easily as if it had been straight. "Ho--hum," said he. "I see 'em, Your Majesty." "What do they look like?" inquired the Monarch. "That's a hard question to answer, for a queerer assortment of creatures I never yet beheld," replied the nome. "However, such a collection of curiosities may prove dangerous. There's a copper man, worked by machinery--" "Bah! that's only Tik-Tok," said Ruggedo. "I'm not afraid of him. Why, only the other day I met the fellow and threw him down a well." "Then some one must have pulled him out again," said Kaliko. "And there's a little girl--" "Dorothy?" asked Ruggedo, jumping up in fear. "No; some other girl. In fact, there are several girls, of various sizes; but Dorothy is not with them, nor is Ozma." "That's good!" exclaimed the King, sighing in relief. Kaliko still had his eye to the spyglass. "I see," said he, "an army of men from Oogaboo. They are all officers and carry swords. And there is a Shaggy Man--who seems very harmless--and a little donkey with big ears." "Pooh!" cried Ruggedo, snapping his fingers in scorn. "I've no fear of such a mob as that. A dozen of my nomes can destroy them all in a jiffy." "I'm not so sure of that," said Kaliko. "The people of Oogaboo are hard to destroy, and I believe the Rose Princess is a fairy. As for Polychrome, you know very well that the Rainbow's Daughter cannot be injured by a nome." "Polychrome! Is she among them?" asked the King. "Yes; I have just recognized her." "Then these people are coming here on no peaceful errand," declared Ruggedo, scowling fiercely. "In fact, no one ever comes here on a peaceful errand. I hate everybody, and everybody hates me!" "Very true," said Kaliko. "I must in some way prevent these people from reaching my dominions. Where are they now?" "Just now they are crossing the Rubber Country, Your Majesty." "Good! Are your magnetic rubber wires in working order?" "I think so," replied Kaliko. "Is it your Royal Will that we have some fun with these invaders?" "It is," answered Ruggedo. "I want to teach them a lesson they will never forget." Now, Shaggy had no idea that he was in a Rubber Country, nor had any of his companions. They noticed that everything around them was of a dull gray color and that the path upon which they walked was soft and springy, yet they had no suspicion that the rocks and trees were rubber and even the path they trod was made of rubber. Presently they came to a brook where sparkling water dashed through a deep channel and rushed away between high rocks far down the mountain-side. Across the brook were stepping-stones, so placed that travelers might easily leap from one to another and in that manner cross the water to the farther bank. Tik-Tok was marching ahead, followed by his officers and Queen Ann. After them came Betsy Bobbin and Hank, Polychrome and Shaggy, and last of all the Rose Princess with Files. The Clockwork Man saw the stream and the stepping-stones and, without making a pause, placed his foot upon the first stone. The result was astonishing. First he sank down in the soft rubber, which then rebounded and sent Tik-Tok soaring high in the air, where he turned a succession of flip-flops and alighted upon a rubber rock far in the rear of the party. General Apple did not see Tik-Tok bound, so quickly had he disappeared; therefore he also stepped upon the stone (which you will guess was connected with Kaliko's magnetic rubber wire) and instantly shot upward like an arrow. General Cone came next and met with a like fate, but the others now noticed that something was wrong and with one accord they halted the column and looked back along the path. There was Tik-Tok, still bounding from one rubber rock to another, each time rising a less distance from the ground. And there was General Apple, bounding away in another direction, his three-cornered hat jammed over his eyes and his long sword thumping him upon the arms and head as it swung this way and that. And there, also, appeared General Cone, who had struck a rubber rock headforemost and was so crumpled up that his round body looked more like a bouncing-ball than the form of a man. Betsy laughed merrily at the strange sight and Polychrome echoed her laughter. But Ozga was grave and wondering, while Queen Ann became angry at seeing the chief officers of the Army of Oogaboo bounding around in so undignified a manner. She shouted to them to stop, but they were unable to obey, even though they would have been glad to do so. Finally, however, they all ceased bounding and managed to get upon their feet and rejoin the Army. "Why did you do that?" demanded Ann, who seemed greatly provoked. "Don't ask them why," said Shaggy earnestly. "I knew you would ask them why, but you ought not to do it. The reason is plain. Those stones are rubber; therefore they are not stones. Those rocks around us are rubber, and therefore they are not rocks. Even this path is not a path; it's rubber. Unless we are very careful, your Majesty, we are all likely to get the bounce, just as your poor officers and Tik-Tok did." [Illustration] "Then let's be careful," remarked Files, who was full of wisdom; but Polychrome wanted to test the quality of the rubber, so she began dancing. Every step sent her higher and higher into the air, so that she resembled a big butterfly fluttering lightly. Presently she made a great bound and bounded way across the stream, landing lightly and steadily on the other side. "There is no rubber over here," she called to them. "Suppose you all try to bound over the stream, without touching the stepping-stones." Ann and her officers were reluctant to undertake such a risky adventure, but Betsy at once grasped the value of the suggestion and began jumping up and down until she found herself bounding almost as high as Polychrome had done. Then she suddenly leaned forward and the next bound took her easily across the brook, where she alighted by the side of the Rainbow's Daughter. "Come on, Hank!" called the girl, and the donkey tried to obey. He managed to bound pretty high but when he tried to bound across the stream he misjudged the distance and fell with a splash into the middle of the water. "Hee-haw!" he wailed, struggling toward the far bank. Betsy rushed forward to help him out, but when the mule stood safely beside her she was amazed to find he was not wet at all. "It's dry water," said Polychrome, dipping her hand into the stream and showing how the water fell from it and left it perfectly dry. "In that case," returned Betsy, "they can all walk through the water." She called to Ozga and Shaggy to wade across, assuring them the water was shallow and would not wet them. At once they followed her advice, avoiding the rubber stepping-stones, and made the crossing with ease. This encouraged the entire party to wade through the dry water, and in a few minutes all had assembled on the bank and renewed their journey along the path that led to the Nome King's dominions. When Kaliko again looked through his magic spyglass he exclaimed: "Bad luck, Your Majesty! All the invaders have passed the Rubber Country and now are fast approaching the entrance to your caverns." Ruggedo raved and stormed at the news and his anger was so great that several times, as he strode up and down his jeweled cavern, he paused to kick Kaliko upon his shins, which were so sensitive that the poor nome howled with pain. Finally the King said: "There's no help for it; we must drop these audacious invaders down the Hollow Tube." Kaliko gave a jump, at this, and looked at his master wonderingly. "If you do that, Your Majesty," he said, "you will make Tititi-Hoochoo very angry." "Never mind that," retorted Ruggedo. "Tititi-Hoochoo lives on the other side of the world, so what do I care for his anger?" Kaliko shuddered and uttered a little groan. "Remember his terrible powers," he pleaded, "and remember that he warned you, the last time you slid people through the Hollow Tube, that if you did it again he would take vengeance upon you." The Metal Monarch walked up and down in silence, thinking deeply. "Of two dangers," said he, "it is wise to choose the least. What do you suppose these invaders want?" "Let the Long-Eared Hearer listen to them," suggested Kaliko. "Call him here at once!" commanded Ruggedo eagerly. So in a few minutes there entered the cavern a nome with enormous ears, who bowed low before the King. "Strangers are approaching," said Ruggedo, "and I wish to know their errand. Listen carefully to their talk and tell me why they are coming here, and what for." The nome bowed again and spread out his great ears, swaying them gently up and down and back and forth. For half an hour he stood silent, in an attitude of listening, while both the King and Kaliko grew impatient at the delay. At last the Long-Eared Hearer spoke: [Illustration] "Shaggy Man is coming here to rescue his brother from captivity," said he. "Ha, the Ugly One!" exclaimed Ruggedo. "Well, Shaggy Man may have his ugly brother, for all I care. He's too lazy to work and is always getting in my way. Where is the Ugly One now, Kaliko?" "The last time Your Majesty stumbled over the prisoner you commanded me to send him to the Metal Forest, which I did. I suppose he is still there." "Very good. The invaders will have a hard time finding the Metal Forest," said the King, with a grin of malicious delight, "for half the time I can't find it myself. Yet I created the forest and made every tree, out of gold and silver, so as to keep the precious metals in a safe place and out of the reach of mortals. But tell me, Hearer, do the strangers want anything else?" "Yes, indeed they do!" returned the nome. "The Army of Oogaboo is determined to capture all the rich metals and rare jewels in your kingdom, and the officers and their Queen have arranged to divide the spoils and carry them away." When he heard this Ruggedo uttered a bellow of rage and began dancing up and down, rolling his eyes, clicking his teeth together and swinging his arms furiously. Then, in an ecstasy of anger he seized the long ears of the Hearer and pulled and twisted them cruelly; but Kaliko grabbed up the King's sceptre and rapped him over the knuckles with it, so that Ruggedo let go the ears and began to chase his Royal Chamberlain around the throne. The Hearer took advantage of this opportunity to slip away from the cavern and escape, and after the King had tired himself out chasing Kaliko he threw himself into his throne and panted for breath, while he glared wickedly at his defiant subject. "You'd better save your strength to fight the enemy," suggested Kaliko. "There will be a terrible battle when the Army of Oogaboo gets here." "The Army won't get here," said the King, still coughing and panting. "I'll drop 'em down the Hollow Tube--every man Jack and every girl Jill of 'em!" "And defy Tititi-Hoochoo?" asked Kaliko. "Yes. Go at once to my Chief Magician and order him to turn the path toward the Hollow Tube, and to make the top of the Tube invisible, so they'll all fall into it." Kaliko went away shaking his head, for he thought Ruggedo was making a great mistake. He found the Magician and had the path twisted so that it led directly to the opening of the Hollow Tube, and this opening he made invisible. Having obeyed the orders of his master, the Royal Chamberlain went to his private room and began to write letters of recommendation of himself, stating that he was an honest man, a good servant and a small eater. "Pretty soon," he said to himself, "I shall have to look for another job, for it is certain that Ruggedo has ruined himself by this reckless defiance of the mighty Tititi-Hoochoo. And in seeking a job nothing is so effective as a letter of recommendation." [Illustration] [Illustration] CHAPTER 10 A Terrible Tumble Through a Tube I suppose that Polychrome, and perhaps Queen Ann and her Army, might have been able to dispel the enchantment of Ruggedo's Chief Magician had they known that danger lay in their pathway; for the Rainbow's Daughter was a fairy and as Oogaboo is a part of the Land of Oz its inhabitants cannot easily be deceived by such common magic as the Nome King could command. But no one suspected any especial danger until after they had entered Ruggedo's cavern, and so they were journeying along in quite a contented manner when Tik-Tok, who marched ahead, suddenly disappeared. The officers thought he must have turned a corner, so they kept on their way and all of them likewise disappeared--one after another. Queen Ann was rather surprised at this, and in hastening forward to learn the reason she also vanished from sight. Betsy Bobbin had tired her feet by walking, so she was now riding upon the back of the stout little mule, facing backward and talking to Shaggy and Polychrome, who were just behind. Suddenly Hank pitched forward and began falling and Betsy would have tumbled over his head had she not grabbed the mule's shaggy neck with both arms and held on for dear life. All around was darkness, and they were not falling directly downward but seemed to be sliding along a steep incline. Hank's hoofs were resting upon some smooth substance over which he slid with the swiftness of the wind. Once Betsy's heels flew up and struck a similar substance overhead. They were, indeed, descending the "Hollow Tube" that led to the other side of the world. "Stop, Hank--stop!" cried the girl; but Hank only uttered a plaintive "Hee-haw!" for it was impossible for him to obey. After several minutes had passed and no harm had befallen them, Betsy gained courage. She could see nothing at all, nor could she hear anything except the rush of air past her ears as they plunged downward along the Tube. Whether she and Hank were alone, or the others were with them, she could not tell. But had some one been able to take a flash-light photograph of the Tube at that time a most curious picture would have resulted. There was Tik-Tok, flat upon his back and sliding headforemost down the incline. And there were the Officers of the Army of Oogaboo, all tangled up in a confused crowd, flapping their arms and trying to shield their faces from the clanking swords, which swung back and forth during the swift journey and pommeled everyone within their reach. Now followed Queen Ann, who had struck the Tube in a sitting position and went flying along with a dash and abandon that thoroughly bewildered the poor lady, who had no idea what had happened to her. Then, a little distance away, but unseen by the others in the inky darkness, slid Betsy and Hank, while behind them were Shaggy and Polychrome and finally Files and the Princess. When first they tumbled into the Tube all were too dazed to think clearly, but the trip was a long one, because the cavity led straight through the earth to a place just opposite the Nome King's dominions, and long before the adventurers got to the end they had begun to recover their wits. "This is awful, Hank!" cried Betsy in a loud voice, and Queen Ann heard her and called out: "Are you safe, Betsy?" "Mercy, no!" answered the little girl. "How could anyone be safe when she's going about sixty miles a minute?" Then, after a pause, she added: "But where do you s'pose we're going to, Your Maj'sty?" "Don't ask her that, please don't!" said Shaggy, who was not too far away to overhear them. "And please don't ask me why, either." "Why?" said Betsy. "No one can tell where we are going until we get there," replied Shaggy, and then he yelled "Ouch!" for Polychrome had overtaken him and was now sitting on his head. The Rainbow's Daughter laughed merrily, and so infectious was this joyous laugh that Betsy echoed it and Hank said "Hee-haw!" in a mild and sympathetic tone of voice. "I'd like to know where and when we'll arrive, just the same," exclaimed the little girl. "Be patient and you'll find out, my dear," said Polychrome. "But isn't this an odd experience? Here am I, whose home is in the skies, making a journey through the center of the earth--where I never expected to be!" "How do you know we're in the center of the earth?" asked Betsy, her voice trembling a little through nervousness. "Why, we can't be anywhere else," replied Polychrome. "I have often heard of this passage, which was once built by a Magician who was a great traveler. He thought it would save him the bother of going around the earth's surface, but he tumbled through the Tube so fast that he shot out at the other end and hit a star in the sky, which at once exploded." "The star exploded?" asked Betsy wonderingly. "Yes; the Magician hit it so hard." "And what became of the Magician?" inquired the girl. "No one knows that," answered Polychrome. "But I don't think it matters much." "It matters a good deal, if we also hit the stars when we come out," said Queen Ann, with a moan. "Don't worry," advised Polychrome. "I believe the Magician was going the other way, and probably he went much faster than we are going." "It's fast enough to suit me," remarked Shaggy, gently removing Polychrome's heel from his left eye. "Couldn't you manage to fall all by yourself, my dear?" "I'll try," laughed the Rainbow's Daughter. All this time they were swiftly falling through the Tube, and it was not so easy for them to talk as you may imagine when you read their words. But although they were so helpless and altogether in the dark as to their fate, the fact that they were able to converse at all cheered them considerably. Files and Ozga were also conversing as they clung tightly to one another, and the young fellow bravely strove to reassure the Princess, although he was terribly frightened, both on her account and on his own. An hour, under such trying circumstances, is a very long time, and for more than an hour they continued their fearful journey. Then, just as they began to fear the Tube would never end, Tik-Tok popped out into broad daylight and, after making a graceful circle in the air, fell with a splash into a great marble fountain. Out came the officers, in quick succession, tumbling heels over head and striking the ground in many undignified attitudes. "For the love of sassafras!" exclaimed a Peculiar Person who was hoeing pink violets in a garden. "What can all this mean?" For answer, Queen Ann sailed up from the Tube, took a ride through the air as high as the treetops, and alighted squarely on top of the Peculiar Person's head, smashing a jeweled crown over his eyes and tumbling him to the ground. The mule was heavier and had Betsy clinging to his back, so he did not go so high up. Fortunately for his little rider he struck the ground upon his four feet. Betsy was jarred a trifle but not hurt and when she looked around her she saw the Queen and the Peculiar Person struggling together upon the ground, where the man was trying to choke Ann and she had both hands in his bushy hair and was pulling with all her might. Some of the officers, when they got upon their feet, hastened to separate the combatants and sought to restrain the Peculiar Person so that he could not attack their Queen again. [Illustration] By this time, Shaggy, Polychrome, Ozga and Files had all arrived and were curiously examining the strange country in which they found themselves and which they knew to be exactly on the opposite side of the world from the place where they had fallen into the Tube. It was a lovely place, indeed, and seemed to be the garden of some great Prince, for through the vistas of trees and shrubbery could be seen the towers of an immense castle. But as yet the only inhabitant to greet them was the Peculiar Person just mentioned, who had shaken off the grasp of the officers without effort and was now trying to pull the battered crown from off his eyes. Shaggy, who was always polite, helped him to do this and when the man was free and could see again he looked at his visitors with evident amazement. "Well, well, well!" he exclaimed. "Where did you come from and how did you get here?" Betsy tried to answer him, for Queen Ann was surly and silent. "I can't say, exac'ly where we came from, 'cause I don't know the name of the place," said the girl, "but the way we got here was through the Hollow Tube." "Don't call it a 'hollow' Tube, please," exclaimed the Peculiar Person in an irritated tone of voice. "If it's a tube, it's sure to be hollow." "Why?" asked Betsy. "Because all tubes are made that way. But this Tube is private property and everyone is forbidden to fall into it." "We didn't do it on purpose," explained Betsy, and Polychrome added: "I am quite sure that Ruggedo, the Nome King, pushed us down that Tube." "Ha! Ruggedo! Did you say Ruggedo?" cried the man, becoming much excited. "That is what she said," replied Shaggy, "and I believe she is right. We were on our way to conquer the Nome King when suddenly we fell into the Tube." "Then you are enemies of Ruggedo?" inquired the Peculiar Person. "Not exac'ly enemies," said Betsy, a little puzzled by the question, "'cause we don't know him at all; but we started out to conquer him, which isn't as friendly as it might be." "True," agreed the man. He looked thoughtfully from one to another of them for a while and then he turned his head over his shoulder and said: "Never mind the fire and pincers, my good brothers. It will be best to take these strangers to the Private Citizen." "Very well, Tubekins," responded a Voice, deep and powerful, that seemed to come out of the air, for the speaker was invisible. All our friends gave a jump, at this. Even Polychrome was so startled that her gauze draperies fluttered like a banner in a breeze. Shaggy shook his head and sighed; Queen Ann looked very unhappy; the officers clung to each other, trembling violently. But soon they gained courage to look more closely at the Peculiar Person. As he was a type of all the inhabitants of this extraordinary land whom they afterward met, I will try to tell you what he looked like. His face was beautiful, but lacked expression. His eyes were large and blue in color and his teeth finely formed and white as snow. His hair was black and bushy and seemed inclined to curl at the ends. So far no one could find any fault with his appearance. He wore a robe of scarlet, which did not cover his arms and extended no lower than his bare knees. On the bosom of the robe was embroidered a terrible dragon's head, as horrible to look at as the man was beautiful. His arms and legs were left bare and the skin of one arm was bright yellow and the skin of the other arm a vivid green. He had one blue leg and one pink one, while both his feet--which showed through the open sandals he wore--were jet black. Betsy could not decide whether these gorgeous colors were dyes or the natural tints of the skin, but while she was thinking it over the man who had been called "Tubekins" said: "Follow me to the Residence--all of you!" But just then a Voice exclaimed: "Here's another of them, Tubekins, lying in the water of the fountain." [Illustration] "Gracious!" cried Betsy; "it must be Tik-Tok, and he'll drown." "Water is a bad thing for his clockworks, anyhow," agreed Shaggy, as with one accord they all started for the fountain. But before they could reach it, invisible hands raised Tik-Tok from the marble basin and set him upon his feet beside it, water dripping from every joint of his copper body. "Ma--ny tha--tha--tha--thanks!" he said; and then his copper jaws clicked together and he could say no more. He next made an attempt to walk but after several awkward trials found he could not move his joints. Peals of jeering laughter from persons unseen greeted Tik-Tok's failure, and the new arrivals in this strange land found it very uncomfortable to realize that there were many creatures around them who were invisible, yet could be heard plainly. "Shall I wind him up?" asked Betsy, feeling very sorry for Tik-Tok. "I think his machinery is wound; but he needs oiling," replied Shaggy. At once an oil-can appeared before him, held on a level with his eyes by some unseen hand.

ward

How many times the word 'ward' appears in the text?

to ask the important question. She dropped to her knees, facing the flowers, and extended both her arms pleadingly toward them. "Tell me, pretty cousins," she said in her sweet, gentle voice, "which way will lead us to the Kingdom of Ruggedo, the Nome King?" At once all the stems bent gracefully to the right and the flower heads nodded once--twice--thrice in that direction. "That's it!" cried Files joyfully. "Now we know the way." Ozga rose to her feet and looked wonderingly at the field-flowers, which had now resumed their upright position. "Was it the wind, do you think?" she asked in a low whisper. "No, indeed," replied Files. "There is not a breath of wind stirring. But these lovely blossoms are indeed your cousins and answered your question at once, as I knew they would." [Illustration] CHAPTER 9 Ruggedo's Rage is Rash and Reckless The way taken by the adventurers led up hill and down dale and wound here and there in a fashion that seemed aimless. But always it drew nearer to a range of low mountains and Files said more than once that he was certain the entrance to Ruggedo's cavern would be found among these rugged hills. In this he was quite correct. Far underneath the nearest mountain was a gorgeous chamber hollowed from the solid rock, the walls and roof of which glittered with thousands of magnificent jewels. Here, on a throne of virgin gold, sat the famous Nome King, dressed in splendid robes and wearing a superb crown cut from a single blood-red ruby. Ruggedo, the Monarch of all the Metals and Precious Stones of the Underground World, was a round little man with a flowing white beard, a red face, bright eyes and a scowl that covered all his forehead. One would think, to look at him, that he ought to be jolly; one might think, considering his enormous wealth, that he ought to be happy; but this was not the case. The Metal Monarch was surly and cross because mortals had dug so much treasure out of the earth and kept it above ground, where all the power of Ruggedo and his nomes was unable to recover it. He hated not only the mortals but also the fairies who live upon the earth or above it, and instead of being content with the riches he still possessed he was unhappy because he did not own all the gold and jewels in the world. Ruggedo had been nodding, half asleep, in his chair when suddenly he sat upright uttered a roar of rage and began pounding upon a huge gong that stood beside him. The sound filled the vast cavern and penetrated to many caverns beyond, where countless thousands of nomes were working at their unending tasks, hammering out gold and silver and other metals, or melting ores in great furnaces, or polishing glittering gems. The nomes trembled at the sound of the King's gong and whispered fearfully to one another that something unpleasant was sure to happen; but none dared pause in his task. The heavy curtains of cloth-of-gold were pushed aside and Kaliko, the King's High Chamberlain, entered the royal presence. "What's up, Your Majesty?" he asked, with a wide yawn, for he had just wakened. "Up?" roared Ruggedo, stamping his foot viciously. "Those foolish mortals are up, that's what! And they want to come down." "Down here?" inquired Kaliko. "Yes!" "How do you know?" continued the Chamberlain, yawning again. "I feel it in my bones," said Ruggedo. "I can always feel it when those hateful earth-crawlers draw near to my Kingdom. I am positive, Kaliko, that mortals are this very minute on their way here to annoy me--and I hate mortals more than I do catnip tea!" "Well, what's to be done?" demanded the nome. "Look through your spyglass, and see where the invaders are," commanded the King. So Kaliko went to a tube in the wall of rock and put his eye to it. The tube ran from the cavern up to the side of the mountain and turned several curves and corners, but as it was a magic spyglass Kaliko was able to see through it just as easily as if it had been straight. "Ho--hum," said he. "I see 'em, Your Majesty." "What do they look like?" inquired the Monarch. "That's a hard question to answer, for a queerer assortment of creatures I never yet beheld," replied the nome. "However, such a collection of curiosities may prove dangerous. There's a copper man, worked by machinery--" "Bah! that's only Tik-Tok," said Ruggedo. "I'm not afraid of him. Why, only the other day I met the fellow and threw him down a well." "Then some one must have pulled him out again," said Kaliko. "And there's a little girl--" "Dorothy?" asked Ruggedo, jumping up in fear. "No; some other girl. In fact, there are several girls, of various sizes; but Dorothy is not with them, nor is Ozma." "That's good!" exclaimed the King, sighing in relief. Kaliko still had his eye to the spyglass. "I see," said he, "an army of men from Oogaboo. They are all officers and carry swords. And there is a Shaggy Man--who seems very harmless--and a little donkey with big ears." "Pooh!" cried Ruggedo, snapping his fingers in scorn. "I've no fear of such a mob as that. A dozen of my nomes can destroy them all in a jiffy." "I'm not so sure of that," said Kaliko. "The people of Oogaboo are hard to destroy, and I believe the Rose Princess is a fairy. As for Polychrome, you know very well that the Rainbow's Daughter cannot be injured by a nome." "Polychrome! Is she among them?" asked the King. "Yes; I have just recognized her." "Then these people are coming here on no peaceful errand," declared Ruggedo, scowling fiercely. "In fact, no one ever comes here on a peaceful errand. I hate everybody, and everybody hates me!" "Very true," said Kaliko. "I must in some way prevent these people from reaching my dominions. Where are they now?" "Just now they are crossing the Rubber Country, Your Majesty." "Good! Are your magnetic rubber wires in working order?" "I think so," replied Kaliko. "Is it your Royal Will that we have some fun with these invaders?" "It is," answered Ruggedo. "I want to teach them a lesson they will never forget." Now, Shaggy had no idea that he was in a Rubber Country, nor had any of his companions. They noticed that everything around them was of a dull gray color and that the path upon which they walked was soft and springy, yet they had no suspicion that the rocks and trees were rubber and even the path they trod was made of rubber. Presently they came to a brook where sparkling water dashed through a deep channel and rushed away between high rocks far down the mountain-side. Across the brook were stepping-stones, so placed that travelers might easily leap from one to another and in that manner cross the water to the farther bank. Tik-Tok was marching ahead, followed by his officers and Queen Ann. After them came Betsy Bobbin and Hank, Polychrome and Shaggy, and last of all the Rose Princess with Files. The Clockwork Man saw the stream and the stepping-stones and, without making a pause, placed his foot upon the first stone. The result was astonishing. First he sank down in the soft rubber, which then rebounded and sent Tik-Tok soaring high in the air, where he turned a succession of flip-flops and alighted upon a rubber rock far in the rear of the party. General Apple did not see Tik-Tok bound, so quickly had he disappeared; therefore he also stepped upon the stone (which you will guess was connected with Kaliko's magnetic rubber wire) and instantly shot upward like an arrow. General Cone came next and met with a like fate, but the others now noticed that something was wrong and with one accord they halted the column and looked back along the path. There was Tik-Tok, still bounding from one rubber rock to another, each time rising a less distance from the ground. And there was General Apple, bounding away in another direction, his three-cornered hat jammed over his eyes and his long sword thumping him upon the arms and head as it swung this way and that. And there, also, appeared General Cone, who had struck a rubber rock headforemost and was so crumpled up that his round body looked more like a bouncing-ball than the form of a man. Betsy laughed merrily at the strange sight and Polychrome echoed her laughter. But Ozga was grave and wondering, while Queen Ann became angry at seeing the chief officers of the Army of Oogaboo bounding around in so undignified a manner. She shouted to them to stop, but they were unable to obey, even though they would have been glad to do so. Finally, however, they all ceased bounding and managed to get upon their feet and rejoin the Army. "Why did you do that?" demanded Ann, who seemed greatly provoked. "Don't ask them why," said Shaggy earnestly. "I knew you would ask them why, but you ought not to do it. The reason is plain. Those stones are rubber; therefore they are not stones. Those rocks around us are rubber, and therefore they are not rocks. Even this path is not a path; it's rubber. Unless we are very careful, your Majesty, we are all likely to get the bounce, just as your poor officers and Tik-Tok did." [Illustration] "Then let's be careful," remarked Files, who was full of wisdom; but Polychrome wanted to test the quality of the rubber, so she began dancing. Every step sent her higher and higher into the air, so that she resembled a big butterfly fluttering lightly. Presently she made a great bound and bounded way across the stream, landing lightly and steadily on the other side. "There is no rubber over here," she called to them. "Suppose you all try to bound over the stream, without touching the stepping-stones." Ann and her officers were reluctant to undertake such a risky adventure, but Betsy at once grasped the value of the suggestion and began jumping up and down until she found herself bounding almost as high as Polychrome had done. Then she suddenly leaned forward and the next bound took her easily across the brook, where she alighted by the side of the Rainbow's Daughter. "Come on, Hank!" called the girl, and the donkey tried to obey. He managed to bound pretty high but when he tried to bound across the stream he misjudged the distance and fell with a splash into the middle of the water. "Hee-haw!" he wailed, struggling toward the far bank. Betsy rushed forward to help him out, but when the mule stood safely beside her she was amazed to find he was not wet at all. "It's dry water," said Polychrome, dipping her hand into the stream and showing how the water fell from it and left it perfectly dry. "In that case," returned Betsy, "they can all walk through the water." She called to Ozga and Shaggy to wade across, assuring them the water was shallow and would not wet them. At once they followed her advice, avoiding the rubber stepping-stones, and made the crossing with ease. This encouraged the entire party to wade through the dry water, and in a few minutes all had assembled on the bank and renewed their journey along the path that led to the Nome King's dominions. When Kaliko again looked through his magic spyglass he exclaimed: "Bad luck, Your Majesty! All the invaders have passed the Rubber Country and now are fast approaching the entrance to your caverns." Ruggedo raved and stormed at the news and his anger was so great that several times, as he strode up and down his jeweled cavern, he paused to kick Kaliko upon his shins, which were so sensitive that the poor nome howled with pain. Finally the King said: "There's no help for it; we must drop these audacious invaders down the Hollow Tube." Kaliko gave a jump, at this, and looked at his master wonderingly. "If you do that, Your Majesty," he said, "you will make Tititi-Hoochoo very angry." "Never mind that," retorted Ruggedo. "Tititi-Hoochoo lives on the other side of the world, so what do I care for his anger?" Kaliko shuddered and uttered a little groan. "Remember his terrible powers," he pleaded, "and remember that he warned you, the last time you slid people through the Hollow Tube, that if you did it again he would take vengeance upon you." The Metal Monarch walked up and down in silence, thinking deeply. "Of two dangers," said he, "it is wise to choose the least. What do you suppose these invaders want?" "Let the Long-Eared Hearer listen to them," suggested Kaliko. "Call him here at once!" commanded Ruggedo eagerly. So in a few minutes there entered the cavern a nome with enormous ears, who bowed low before the King. "Strangers are approaching," said Ruggedo, "and I wish to know their errand. Listen carefully to their talk and tell me why they are coming here, and what for." The nome bowed again and spread out his great ears, swaying them gently up and down and back and forth. For half an hour he stood silent, in an attitude of listening, while both the King and Kaliko grew impatient at the delay. At last the Long-Eared Hearer spoke: [Illustration] "Shaggy Man is coming here to rescue his brother from captivity," said he. "Ha, the Ugly One!" exclaimed Ruggedo. "Well, Shaggy Man may have his ugly brother, for all I care. He's too lazy to work and is always getting in my way. Where is the Ugly One now, Kaliko?" "The last time Your Majesty stumbled over the prisoner you commanded me to send him to the Metal Forest, which I did. I suppose he is still there." "Very good. The invaders will have a hard time finding the Metal Forest," said the King, with a grin of malicious delight, "for half the time I can't find it myself. Yet I created the forest and made every tree, out of gold and silver, so as to keep the precious metals in a safe place and out of the reach of mortals. But tell me, Hearer, do the strangers want anything else?" "Yes, indeed they do!" returned the nome. "The Army of Oogaboo is determined to capture all the rich metals and rare jewels in your kingdom, and the officers and their Queen have arranged to divide the spoils and carry them away." When he heard this Ruggedo uttered a bellow of rage and began dancing up and down, rolling his eyes, clicking his teeth together and swinging his arms furiously. Then, in an ecstasy of anger he seized the long ears of the Hearer and pulled and twisted them cruelly; but Kaliko grabbed up the King's sceptre and rapped him over the knuckles with it, so that Ruggedo let go the ears and began to chase his Royal Chamberlain around the throne. The Hearer took advantage of this opportunity to slip away from the cavern and escape, and after the King had tired himself out chasing Kaliko he threw himself into his throne and panted for breath, while he glared wickedly at his defiant subject. "You'd better save your strength to fight the enemy," suggested Kaliko. "There will be a terrible battle when the Army of Oogaboo gets here." "The Army won't get here," said the King, still coughing and panting. "I'll drop 'em down the Hollow Tube--every man Jack and every girl Jill of 'em!" "And defy Tititi-Hoochoo?" asked Kaliko. "Yes. Go at once to my Chief Magician and order him to turn the path toward the Hollow Tube, and to make the top of the Tube invisible, so they'll all fall into it." Kaliko went away shaking his head, for he thought Ruggedo was making a great mistake. He found the Magician and had the path twisted so that it led directly to the opening of the Hollow Tube, and this opening he made invisible. Having obeyed the orders of his master, the Royal Chamberlain went to his private room and began to write letters of recommendation of himself, stating that he was an honest man, a good servant and a small eater. "Pretty soon," he said to himself, "I shall have to look for another job, for it is certain that Ruggedo has ruined himself by this reckless defiance of the mighty Tititi-Hoochoo. And in seeking a job nothing is so effective as a letter of recommendation." [Illustration] [Illustration] CHAPTER 10 A Terrible Tumble Through a Tube I suppose that Polychrome, and perhaps Queen Ann and her Army, might have been able to dispel the enchantment of Ruggedo's Chief Magician had they known that danger lay in their pathway; for the Rainbow's Daughter was a fairy and as Oogaboo is a part of the Land of Oz its inhabitants cannot easily be deceived by such common magic as the Nome King could command. But no one suspected any especial danger until after they had entered Ruggedo's cavern, and so they were journeying along in quite a contented manner when Tik-Tok, who marched ahead, suddenly disappeared. The officers thought he must have turned a corner, so they kept on their way and all of them likewise disappeared--one after another. Queen Ann was rather surprised at this, and in hastening forward to learn the reason she also vanished from sight. Betsy Bobbin had tired her feet by walking, so she was now riding upon the back of the stout little mule, facing backward and talking to Shaggy and Polychrome, who were just behind. Suddenly Hank pitched forward and began falling and Betsy would have tumbled over his head had she not grabbed the mule's shaggy neck with both arms and held on for dear life. All around was darkness, and they were not falling directly downward but seemed to be sliding along a steep incline. Hank's hoofs were resting upon some smooth substance over which he slid with the swiftness of the wind. Once Betsy's heels flew up and struck a similar substance overhead. They were, indeed, descending the "Hollow Tube" that led to the other side of the world. "Stop, Hank--stop!" cried the girl; but Hank only uttered a plaintive "Hee-haw!" for it was impossible for him to obey. After several minutes had passed and no harm had befallen them, Betsy gained courage. She could see nothing at all, nor could she hear anything except the rush of air past her ears as they plunged downward along the Tube. Whether she and Hank were alone, or the others were with them, she could not tell. But had some one been able to take a flash-light photograph of the Tube at that time a most curious picture would have resulted. There was Tik-Tok, flat upon his back and sliding headforemost down the incline. And there were the Officers of the Army of Oogaboo, all tangled up in a confused crowd, flapping their arms and trying to shield their faces from the clanking swords, which swung back and forth during the swift journey and pommeled everyone within their reach. Now followed Queen Ann, who had struck the Tube in a sitting position and went flying along with a dash and abandon that thoroughly bewildered the poor lady, who had no idea what had happened to her. Then, a little distance away, but unseen by the others in the inky darkness, slid Betsy and Hank, while behind them were Shaggy and Polychrome and finally Files and the Princess. When first they tumbled into the Tube all were too dazed to think clearly, but the trip was a long one, because the cavity led straight through the earth to a place just opposite the Nome King's dominions, and long before the adventurers got to the end they had begun to recover their wits. "This is awful, Hank!" cried Betsy in a loud voice, and Queen Ann heard her and called out: "Are you safe, Betsy?" "Mercy, no!" answered the little girl. "How could anyone be safe when she's going about sixty miles a minute?" Then, after a pause, she added: "But where do you s'pose we're going to, Your Maj'sty?" "Don't ask her that, please don't!" said Shaggy, who was not too far away to overhear them. "And please don't ask me why, either." "Why?" said Betsy. "No one can tell where we are going until we get there," replied Shaggy, and then he yelled "Ouch!" for Polychrome had overtaken him and was now sitting on his head. The Rainbow's Daughter laughed merrily, and so infectious was this joyous laugh that Betsy echoed it and Hank said "Hee-haw!" in a mild and sympathetic tone of voice. "I'd like to know where and when we'll arrive, just the same," exclaimed the little girl. "Be patient and you'll find out, my dear," said Polychrome. "But isn't this an odd experience? Here am I, whose home is in the skies, making a journey through the center of the earth--where I never expected to be!" "How do you know we're in the center of the earth?" asked Betsy, her voice trembling a little through nervousness. "Why, we can't be anywhere else," replied Polychrome. "I have often heard of this passage, which was once built by a Magician who was a great traveler. He thought it would save him the bother of going around the earth's surface, but he tumbled through the Tube so fast that he shot out at the other end and hit a star in the sky, which at once exploded." "The star exploded?" asked Betsy wonderingly. "Yes; the Magician hit it so hard." "And what became of the Magician?" inquired the girl. "No one knows that," answered Polychrome. "But I don't think it matters much." "It matters a good deal, if we also hit the stars when we come out," said Queen Ann, with a moan. "Don't worry," advised Polychrome. "I believe the Magician was going the other way, and probably he went much faster than we are going." "It's fast enough to suit me," remarked Shaggy, gently removing Polychrome's heel from his left eye. "Couldn't you manage to fall all by yourself, my dear?" "I'll try," laughed the Rainbow's Daughter. All this time they were swiftly falling through the Tube, and it was not so easy for them to talk as you may imagine when you read their words. But although they were so helpless and altogether in the dark as to their fate, the fact that they were able to converse at all cheered them considerably. Files and Ozga were also conversing as they clung tightly to one another, and the young fellow bravely strove to reassure the Princess, although he was terribly frightened, both on her account and on his own. An hour, under such trying circumstances, is a very long time, and for more than an hour they continued their fearful journey. Then, just as they began to fear the Tube would never end, Tik-Tok popped out into broad daylight and, after making a graceful circle in the air, fell with a splash into a great marble fountain. Out came the officers, in quick succession, tumbling heels over head and striking the ground in many undignified attitudes. "For the love of sassafras!" exclaimed a Peculiar Person who was hoeing pink violets in a garden. "What can all this mean?" For answer, Queen Ann sailed up from the Tube, took a ride through the air as high as the treetops, and alighted squarely on top of the Peculiar Person's head, smashing a jeweled crown over his eyes and tumbling him to the ground. The mule was heavier and had Betsy clinging to his back, so he did not go so high up. Fortunately for his little rider he struck the ground upon his four feet. Betsy was jarred a trifle but not hurt and when she looked around her she saw the Queen and the Peculiar Person struggling together upon the ground, where the man was trying to choke Ann and she had both hands in his bushy hair and was pulling with all her might. Some of the officers, when they got upon their feet, hastened to separate the combatants and sought to restrain the Peculiar Person so that he could not attack their Queen again. [Illustration] By this time, Shaggy, Polychrome, Ozga and Files had all arrived and were curiously examining the strange country in which they found themselves and which they knew to be exactly on the opposite side of the world from the place where they had fallen into the Tube. It was a lovely place, indeed, and seemed to be the garden of some great Prince, for through the vistas of trees and shrubbery could be seen the towers of an immense castle. But as yet the only inhabitant to greet them was the Peculiar Person just mentioned, who had shaken off the grasp of the officers without effort and was now trying to pull the battered crown from off his eyes. Shaggy, who was always polite, helped him to do this and when the man was free and could see again he looked at his visitors with evident amazement. "Well, well, well!" he exclaimed. "Where did you come from and how did you get here?" Betsy tried to answer him, for Queen Ann was surly and silent. "I can't say, exac'ly where we came from, 'cause I don't know the name of the place," said the girl, "but the way we got here was through the Hollow Tube." "Don't call it a 'hollow' Tube, please," exclaimed the Peculiar Person in an irritated tone of voice. "If it's a tube, it's sure to be hollow." "Why?" asked Betsy. "Because all tubes are made that way. But this Tube is private property and everyone is forbidden to fall into it." "We didn't do it on purpose," explained Betsy, and Polychrome added: "I am quite sure that Ruggedo, the Nome King, pushed us down that Tube." "Ha! Ruggedo! Did you say Ruggedo?" cried the man, becoming much excited. "That is what she said," replied Shaggy, "and I believe she is right. We were on our way to conquer the Nome King when suddenly we fell into the Tube." "Then you are enemies of Ruggedo?" inquired the Peculiar Person. "Not exac'ly enemies," said Betsy, a little puzzled by the question, "'cause we don't know him at all; but we started out to conquer him, which isn't as friendly as it might be." "True," agreed the man. He looked thoughtfully from one to another of them for a while and then he turned his head over his shoulder and said: "Never mind the fire and pincers, my good brothers. It will be best to take these strangers to the Private Citizen." "Very well, Tubekins," responded a Voice, deep and powerful, that seemed to come out of the air, for the speaker was invisible. All our friends gave a jump, at this. Even Polychrome was so startled that her gauze draperies fluttered like a banner in a breeze. Shaggy shook his head and sighed; Queen Ann looked very unhappy; the officers clung to each other, trembling violently. But soon they gained courage to look more closely at the Peculiar Person. As he was a type of all the inhabitants of this extraordinary land whom they afterward met, I will try to tell you what he looked like. His face was beautiful, but lacked expression. His eyes were large and blue in color and his teeth finely formed and white as snow. His hair was black and bushy and seemed inclined to curl at the ends. So far no one could find any fault with his appearance. He wore a robe of scarlet, which did not cover his arms and extended no lower than his bare knees. On the bosom of the robe was embroidered a terrible dragon's head, as horrible to look at as the man was beautiful. His arms and legs were left bare and the skin of one arm was bright yellow and the skin of the other arm a vivid green. He had one blue leg and one pink one, while both his feet--which showed through the open sandals he wore--were jet black. Betsy could not decide whether these gorgeous colors were dyes or the natural tints of the skin, but while she was thinking it over the man who had been called "Tubekins" said: "Follow me to the Residence--all of you!" But just then a Voice exclaimed: "Here's another of them, Tubekins, lying in the water of the fountain." [Illustration] "Gracious!" cried Betsy; "it must be Tik-Tok, and he'll drown." "Water is a bad thing for his clockworks, anyhow," agreed Shaggy, as with one accord they all started for the fountain. But before they could reach it, invisible hands raised Tik-Tok from the marble basin and set him upon his feet beside it, water dripping from every joint of his copper body. "Ma--ny tha--tha--tha--thanks!" he said; and then his copper jaws clicked together and he could say no more. He next made an attempt to walk but after several awkward trials found he could not move his joints. Peals of jeering laughter from persons unseen greeted Tik-Tok's failure, and the new arrivals in this strange land found it very uncomfortable to realize that there were many creatures around them who were invisible, yet could be heard plainly. "Shall I wind him up?" asked Betsy, feeling very sorry for Tik-Tok. "I think his machinery is wound; but he needs oiling," replied Shaggy. At once an oil-can appeared before him, held on a level with his eyes by some unseen hand.

illustration

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to ask the important question. She dropped to her knees, facing the flowers, and extended both her arms pleadingly toward them. "Tell me, pretty cousins," she said in her sweet, gentle voice, "which way will lead us to the Kingdom of Ruggedo, the Nome King?" At once all the stems bent gracefully to the right and the flower heads nodded once--twice--thrice in that direction. "That's it!" cried Files joyfully. "Now we know the way." Ozga rose to her feet and looked wonderingly at the field-flowers, which had now resumed their upright position. "Was it the wind, do you think?" she asked in a low whisper. "No, indeed," replied Files. "There is not a breath of wind stirring. But these lovely blossoms are indeed your cousins and answered your question at once, as I knew they would." [Illustration] CHAPTER 9 Ruggedo's Rage is Rash and Reckless The way taken by the adventurers led up hill and down dale and wound here and there in a fashion that seemed aimless. But always it drew nearer to a range of low mountains and Files said more than once that he was certain the entrance to Ruggedo's cavern would be found among these rugged hills. In this he was quite correct. Far underneath the nearest mountain was a gorgeous chamber hollowed from the solid rock, the walls and roof of which glittered with thousands of magnificent jewels. Here, on a throne of virgin gold, sat the famous Nome King, dressed in splendid robes and wearing a superb crown cut from a single blood-red ruby. Ruggedo, the Monarch of all the Metals and Precious Stones of the Underground World, was a round little man with a flowing white beard, a red face, bright eyes and a scowl that covered all his forehead. One would think, to look at him, that he ought to be jolly; one might think, considering his enormous wealth, that he ought to be happy; but this was not the case. The Metal Monarch was surly and cross because mortals had dug so much treasure out of the earth and kept it above ground, where all the power of Ruggedo and his nomes was unable to recover it. He hated not only the mortals but also the fairies who live upon the earth or above it, and instead of being content with the riches he still possessed he was unhappy because he did not own all the gold and jewels in the world. Ruggedo had been nodding, half asleep, in his chair when suddenly he sat upright uttered a roar of rage and began pounding upon a huge gong that stood beside him. The sound filled the vast cavern and penetrated to many caverns beyond, where countless thousands of nomes were working at their unending tasks, hammering out gold and silver and other metals, or melting ores in great furnaces, or polishing glittering gems. The nomes trembled at the sound of the King's gong and whispered fearfully to one another that something unpleasant was sure to happen; but none dared pause in his task. The heavy curtains of cloth-of-gold were pushed aside and Kaliko, the King's High Chamberlain, entered the royal presence. "What's up, Your Majesty?" he asked, with a wide yawn, for he had just wakened. "Up?" roared Ruggedo, stamping his foot viciously. "Those foolish mortals are up, that's what! And they want to come down." "Down here?" inquired Kaliko. "Yes!" "How do you know?" continued the Chamberlain, yawning again. "I feel it in my bones," said Ruggedo. "I can always feel it when those hateful earth-crawlers draw near to my Kingdom. I am positive, Kaliko, that mortals are this very minute on their way here to annoy me--and I hate mortals more than I do catnip tea!" "Well, what's to be done?" demanded the nome. "Look through your spyglass, and see where the invaders are," commanded the King. So Kaliko went to a tube in the wall of rock and put his eye to it. The tube ran from the cavern up to the side of the mountain and turned several curves and corners, but as it was a magic spyglass Kaliko was able to see through it just as easily as if it had been straight. "Ho--hum," said he. "I see 'em, Your Majesty." "What do they look like?" inquired the Monarch. "That's a hard question to answer, for a queerer assortment of creatures I never yet beheld," replied the nome. "However, such a collection of curiosities may prove dangerous. There's a copper man, worked by machinery--" "Bah! that's only Tik-Tok," said Ruggedo. "I'm not afraid of him. Why, only the other day I met the fellow and threw him down a well." "Then some one must have pulled him out again," said Kaliko. "And there's a little girl--" "Dorothy?" asked Ruggedo, jumping up in fear. "No; some other girl. In fact, there are several girls, of various sizes; but Dorothy is not with them, nor is Ozma." "That's good!" exclaimed the King, sighing in relief. Kaliko still had his eye to the spyglass. "I see," said he, "an army of men from Oogaboo. They are all officers and carry swords. And there is a Shaggy Man--who seems very harmless--and a little donkey with big ears." "Pooh!" cried Ruggedo, snapping his fingers in scorn. "I've no fear of such a mob as that. A dozen of my nomes can destroy them all in a jiffy." "I'm not so sure of that," said Kaliko. "The people of Oogaboo are hard to destroy, and I believe the Rose Princess is a fairy. As for Polychrome, you know very well that the Rainbow's Daughter cannot be injured by a nome." "Polychrome! Is she among them?" asked the King. "Yes; I have just recognized her." "Then these people are coming here on no peaceful errand," declared Ruggedo, scowling fiercely. "In fact, no one ever comes here on a peaceful errand. I hate everybody, and everybody hates me!" "Very true," said Kaliko. "I must in some way prevent these people from reaching my dominions. Where are they now?" "Just now they are crossing the Rubber Country, Your Majesty." "Good! Are your magnetic rubber wires in working order?" "I think so," replied Kaliko. "Is it your Royal Will that we have some fun with these invaders?" "It is," answered Ruggedo. "I want to teach them a lesson they will never forget." Now, Shaggy had no idea that he was in a Rubber Country, nor had any of his companions. They noticed that everything around them was of a dull gray color and that the path upon which they walked was soft and springy, yet they had no suspicion that the rocks and trees were rubber and even the path they trod was made of rubber. Presently they came to a brook where sparkling water dashed through a deep channel and rushed away between high rocks far down the mountain-side. Across the brook were stepping-stones, so placed that travelers might easily leap from one to another and in that manner cross the water to the farther bank. Tik-Tok was marching ahead, followed by his officers and Queen Ann. After them came Betsy Bobbin and Hank, Polychrome and Shaggy, and last of all the Rose Princess with Files. The Clockwork Man saw the stream and the stepping-stones and, without making a pause, placed his foot upon the first stone. The result was astonishing. First he sank down in the soft rubber, which then rebounded and sent Tik-Tok soaring high in the air, where he turned a succession of flip-flops and alighted upon a rubber rock far in the rear of the party. General Apple did not see Tik-Tok bound, so quickly had he disappeared; therefore he also stepped upon the stone (which you will guess was connected with Kaliko's magnetic rubber wire) and instantly shot upward like an arrow. General Cone came next and met with a like fate, but the others now noticed that something was wrong and with one accord they halted the column and looked back along the path. There was Tik-Tok, still bounding from one rubber rock to another, each time rising a less distance from the ground. And there was General Apple, bounding away in another direction, his three-cornered hat jammed over his eyes and his long sword thumping him upon the arms and head as it swung this way and that. And there, also, appeared General Cone, who had struck a rubber rock headforemost and was so crumpled up that his round body looked more like a bouncing-ball than the form of a man. Betsy laughed merrily at the strange sight and Polychrome echoed her laughter. But Ozga was grave and wondering, while Queen Ann became angry at seeing the chief officers of the Army of Oogaboo bounding around in so undignified a manner. She shouted to them to stop, but they were unable to obey, even though they would have been glad to do so. Finally, however, they all ceased bounding and managed to get upon their feet and rejoin the Army. "Why did you do that?" demanded Ann, who seemed greatly provoked. "Don't ask them why," said Shaggy earnestly. "I knew you would ask them why, but you ought not to do it. The reason is plain. Those stones are rubber; therefore they are not stones. Those rocks around us are rubber, and therefore they are not rocks. Even this path is not a path; it's rubber. Unless we are very careful, your Majesty, we are all likely to get the bounce, just as your poor officers and Tik-Tok did." [Illustration] "Then let's be careful," remarked Files, who was full of wisdom; but Polychrome wanted to test the quality of the rubber, so she began dancing. Every step sent her higher and higher into the air, so that she resembled a big butterfly fluttering lightly. Presently she made a great bound and bounded way across the stream, landing lightly and steadily on the other side. "There is no rubber over here," she called to them. "Suppose you all try to bound over the stream, without touching the stepping-stones." Ann and her officers were reluctant to undertake such a risky adventure, but Betsy at once grasped the value of the suggestion and began jumping up and down until she found herself bounding almost as high as Polychrome had done. Then she suddenly leaned forward and the next bound took her easily across the brook, where she alighted by the side of the Rainbow's Daughter. "Come on, Hank!" called the girl, and the donkey tried to obey. He managed to bound pretty high but when he tried to bound across the stream he misjudged the distance and fell with a splash into the middle of the water. "Hee-haw!" he wailed, struggling toward the far bank. Betsy rushed forward to help him out, but when the mule stood safely beside her she was amazed to find he was not wet at all. "It's dry water," said Polychrome, dipping her hand into the stream and showing how the water fell from it and left it perfectly dry. "In that case," returned Betsy, "they can all walk through the water." She called to Ozga and Shaggy to wade across, assuring them the water was shallow and would not wet them. At once they followed her advice, avoiding the rubber stepping-stones, and made the crossing with ease. This encouraged the entire party to wade through the dry water, and in a few minutes all had assembled on the bank and renewed their journey along the path that led to the Nome King's dominions. When Kaliko again looked through his magic spyglass he exclaimed: "Bad luck, Your Majesty! All the invaders have passed the Rubber Country and now are fast approaching the entrance to your caverns." Ruggedo raved and stormed at the news and his anger was so great that several times, as he strode up and down his jeweled cavern, he paused to kick Kaliko upon his shins, which were so sensitive that the poor nome howled with pain. Finally the King said: "There's no help for it; we must drop these audacious invaders down the Hollow Tube." Kaliko gave a jump, at this, and looked at his master wonderingly. "If you do that, Your Majesty," he said, "you will make Tititi-Hoochoo very angry." "Never mind that," retorted Ruggedo. "Tititi-Hoochoo lives on the other side of the world, so what do I care for his anger?" Kaliko shuddered and uttered a little groan. "Remember his terrible powers," he pleaded, "and remember that he warned you, the last time you slid people through the Hollow Tube, that if you did it again he would take vengeance upon you." The Metal Monarch walked up and down in silence, thinking deeply. "Of two dangers," said he, "it is wise to choose the least. What do you suppose these invaders want?" "Let the Long-Eared Hearer listen to them," suggested Kaliko. "Call him here at once!" commanded Ruggedo eagerly. So in a few minutes there entered the cavern a nome with enormous ears, who bowed low before the King. "Strangers are approaching," said Ruggedo, "and I wish to know their errand. Listen carefully to their talk and tell me why they are coming here, and what for." The nome bowed again and spread out his great ears, swaying them gently up and down and back and forth. For half an hour he stood silent, in an attitude of listening, while both the King and Kaliko grew impatient at the delay. At last the Long-Eared Hearer spoke: [Illustration] "Shaggy Man is coming here to rescue his brother from captivity," said he. "Ha, the Ugly One!" exclaimed Ruggedo. "Well, Shaggy Man may have his ugly brother, for all I care. He's too lazy to work and is always getting in my way. Where is the Ugly One now, Kaliko?" "The last time Your Majesty stumbled over the prisoner you commanded me to send him to the Metal Forest, which I did. I suppose he is still there." "Very good. The invaders will have a hard time finding the Metal Forest," said the King, with a grin of malicious delight, "for half the time I can't find it myself. Yet I created the forest and made every tree, out of gold and silver, so as to keep the precious metals in a safe place and out of the reach of mortals. But tell me, Hearer, do the strangers want anything else?" "Yes, indeed they do!" returned the nome. "The Army of Oogaboo is determined to capture all the rich metals and rare jewels in your kingdom, and the officers and their Queen have arranged to divide the spoils and carry them away." When he heard this Ruggedo uttered a bellow of rage and began dancing up and down, rolling his eyes, clicking his teeth together and swinging his arms furiously. Then, in an ecstasy of anger he seized the long ears of the Hearer and pulled and twisted them cruelly; but Kaliko grabbed up the King's sceptre and rapped him over the knuckles with it, so that Ruggedo let go the ears and began to chase his Royal Chamberlain around the throne. The Hearer took advantage of this opportunity to slip away from the cavern and escape, and after the King had tired himself out chasing Kaliko he threw himself into his throne and panted for breath, while he glared wickedly at his defiant subject. "You'd better save your strength to fight the enemy," suggested Kaliko. "There will be a terrible battle when the Army of Oogaboo gets here." "The Army won't get here," said the King, still coughing and panting. "I'll drop 'em down the Hollow Tube--every man Jack and every girl Jill of 'em!" "And defy Tititi-Hoochoo?" asked Kaliko. "Yes. Go at once to my Chief Magician and order him to turn the path toward the Hollow Tube, and to make the top of the Tube invisible, so they'll all fall into it." Kaliko went away shaking his head, for he thought Ruggedo was making a great mistake. He found the Magician and had the path twisted so that it led directly to the opening of the Hollow Tube, and this opening he made invisible. Having obeyed the orders of his master, the Royal Chamberlain went to his private room and began to write letters of recommendation of himself, stating that he was an honest man, a good servant and a small eater. "Pretty soon," he said to himself, "I shall have to look for another job, for it is certain that Ruggedo has ruined himself by this reckless defiance of the mighty Tititi-Hoochoo. And in seeking a job nothing is so effective as a letter of recommendation." [Illustration] [Illustration] CHAPTER 10 A Terrible Tumble Through a Tube I suppose that Polychrome, and perhaps Queen Ann and her Army, might have been able to dispel the enchantment of Ruggedo's Chief Magician had they known that danger lay in their pathway; for the Rainbow's Daughter was a fairy and as Oogaboo is a part of the Land of Oz its inhabitants cannot easily be deceived by such common magic as the Nome King could command. But no one suspected any especial danger until after they had entered Ruggedo's cavern, and so they were journeying along in quite a contented manner when Tik-Tok, who marched ahead, suddenly disappeared. The officers thought he must have turned a corner, so they kept on their way and all of them likewise disappeared--one after another. Queen Ann was rather surprised at this, and in hastening forward to learn the reason she also vanished from sight. Betsy Bobbin had tired her feet by walking, so she was now riding upon the back of the stout little mule, facing backward and talking to Shaggy and Polychrome, who were just behind. Suddenly Hank pitched forward and began falling and Betsy would have tumbled over his head had she not grabbed the mule's shaggy neck with both arms and held on for dear life. All around was darkness, and they were not falling directly downward but seemed to be sliding along a steep incline. Hank's hoofs were resting upon some smooth substance over which he slid with the swiftness of the wind. Once Betsy's heels flew up and struck a similar substance overhead. They were, indeed, descending the "Hollow Tube" that led to the other side of the world. "Stop, Hank--stop!" cried the girl; but Hank only uttered a plaintive "Hee-haw!" for it was impossible for him to obey. After several minutes had passed and no harm had befallen them, Betsy gained courage. She could see nothing at all, nor could she hear anything except the rush of air past her ears as they plunged downward along the Tube. Whether she and Hank were alone, or the others were with them, she could not tell. But had some one been able to take a flash-light photograph of the Tube at that time a most curious picture would have resulted. There was Tik-Tok, flat upon his back and sliding headforemost down the incline. And there were the Officers of the Army of Oogaboo, all tangled up in a confused crowd, flapping their arms and trying to shield their faces from the clanking swords, which swung back and forth during the swift journey and pommeled everyone within their reach. Now followed Queen Ann, who had struck the Tube in a sitting position and went flying along with a dash and abandon that thoroughly bewildered the poor lady, who had no idea what had happened to her. Then, a little distance away, but unseen by the others in the inky darkness, slid Betsy and Hank, while behind them were Shaggy and Polychrome and finally Files and the Princess. When first they tumbled into the Tube all were too dazed to think clearly, but the trip was a long one, because the cavity led straight through the earth to a place just opposite the Nome King's dominions, and long before the adventurers got to the end they had begun to recover their wits. "This is awful, Hank!" cried Betsy in a loud voice, and Queen Ann heard her and called out: "Are you safe, Betsy?" "Mercy, no!" answered the little girl. "How could anyone be safe when she's going about sixty miles a minute?" Then, after a pause, she added: "But where do you s'pose we're going to, Your Maj'sty?" "Don't ask her that, please don't!" said Shaggy, who was not too far away to overhear them. "And please don't ask me why, either." "Why?" said Betsy. "No one can tell where we are going until we get there," replied Shaggy, and then he yelled "Ouch!" for Polychrome had overtaken him and was now sitting on his head. The Rainbow's Daughter laughed merrily, and so infectious was this joyous laugh that Betsy echoed it and Hank said "Hee-haw!" in a mild and sympathetic tone of voice. "I'd like to know where and when we'll arrive, just the same," exclaimed the little girl. "Be patient and you'll find out, my dear," said Polychrome. "But isn't this an odd experience? Here am I, whose home is in the skies, making a journey through the center of the earth--where I never expected to be!" "How do you know we're in the center of the earth?" asked Betsy, her voice trembling a little through nervousness. "Why, we can't be anywhere else," replied Polychrome. "I have often heard of this passage, which was once built by a Magician who was a great traveler. He thought it would save him the bother of going around the earth's surface, but he tumbled through the Tube so fast that he shot out at the other end and hit a star in the sky, which at once exploded." "The star exploded?" asked Betsy wonderingly. "Yes; the Magician hit it so hard." "And what became of the Magician?" inquired the girl. "No one knows that," answered Polychrome. "But I don't think it matters much." "It matters a good deal, if we also hit the stars when we come out," said Queen Ann, with a moan. "Don't worry," advised Polychrome. "I believe the Magician was going the other way, and probably he went much faster than we are going." "It's fast enough to suit me," remarked Shaggy, gently removing Polychrome's heel from his left eye. "Couldn't you manage to fall all by yourself, my dear?" "I'll try," laughed the Rainbow's Daughter. All this time they were swiftly falling through the Tube, and it was not so easy for them to talk as you may imagine when you read their words. But although they were so helpless and altogether in the dark as to their fate, the fact that they were able to converse at all cheered them considerably. Files and Ozga were also conversing as they clung tightly to one another, and the young fellow bravely strove to reassure the Princess, although he was terribly frightened, both on her account and on his own. An hour, under such trying circumstances, is a very long time, and for more than an hour they continued their fearful journey. Then, just as they began to fear the Tube would never end, Tik-Tok popped out into broad daylight and, after making a graceful circle in the air, fell with a splash into a great marble fountain. Out came the officers, in quick succession, tumbling heels over head and striking the ground in many undignified attitudes. "For the love of sassafras!" exclaimed a Peculiar Person who was hoeing pink violets in a garden. "What can all this mean?" For answer, Queen Ann sailed up from the Tube, took a ride through the air as high as the treetops, and alighted squarely on top of the Peculiar Person's head, smashing a jeweled crown over his eyes and tumbling him to the ground. The mule was heavier and had Betsy clinging to his back, so he did not go so high up. Fortunately for his little rider he struck the ground upon his four feet. Betsy was jarred a trifle but not hurt and when she looked around her she saw the Queen and the Peculiar Person struggling together upon the ground, where the man was trying to choke Ann and she had both hands in his bushy hair and was pulling with all her might. Some of the officers, when they got upon their feet, hastened to separate the combatants and sought to restrain the Peculiar Person so that he could not attack their Queen again. [Illustration] By this time, Shaggy, Polychrome, Ozga and Files had all arrived and were curiously examining the strange country in which they found themselves and which they knew to be exactly on the opposite side of the world from the place where they had fallen into the Tube. It was a lovely place, indeed, and seemed to be the garden of some great Prince, for through the vistas of trees and shrubbery could be seen the towers of an immense castle. But as yet the only inhabitant to greet them was the Peculiar Person just mentioned, who had shaken off the grasp of the officers without effort and was now trying to pull the battered crown from off his eyes. Shaggy, who was always polite, helped him to do this and when the man was free and could see again he looked at his visitors with evident amazement. "Well, well, well!" he exclaimed. "Where did you come from and how did you get here?" Betsy tried to answer him, for Queen Ann was surly and silent. "I can't say, exac'ly where we came from, 'cause I don't know the name of the place," said the girl, "but the way we got here was through the Hollow Tube." "Don't call it a 'hollow' Tube, please," exclaimed the Peculiar Person in an irritated tone of voice. "If it's a tube, it's sure to be hollow." "Why?" asked Betsy. "Because all tubes are made that way. But this Tube is private property and everyone is forbidden to fall into it." "We didn't do it on purpose," explained Betsy, and Polychrome added: "I am quite sure that Ruggedo, the Nome King, pushed us down that Tube." "Ha! Ruggedo! Did you say Ruggedo?" cried the man, becoming much excited. "That is what she said," replied Shaggy, "and I believe she is right. We were on our way to conquer the Nome King when suddenly we fell into the Tube." "Then you are enemies of Ruggedo?" inquired the Peculiar Person. "Not exac'ly enemies," said Betsy, a little puzzled by the question, "'cause we don't know him at all; but we started out to conquer him, which isn't as friendly as it might be." "True," agreed the man. He looked thoughtfully from one to another of them for a while and then he turned his head over his shoulder and said: "Never mind the fire and pincers, my good brothers. It will be best to take these strangers to the Private Citizen." "Very well, Tubekins," responded a Voice, deep and powerful, that seemed to come out of the air, for the speaker was invisible. All our friends gave a jump, at this. Even Polychrome was so startled that her gauze draperies fluttered like a banner in a breeze. Shaggy shook his head and sighed; Queen Ann looked very unhappy; the officers clung to each other, trembling violently. But soon they gained courage to look more closely at the Peculiar Person. As he was a type of all the inhabitants of this extraordinary land whom they afterward met, I will try to tell you what he looked like. His face was beautiful, but lacked expression. His eyes were large and blue in color and his teeth finely formed and white as snow. His hair was black and bushy and seemed inclined to curl at the ends. So far no one could find any fault with his appearance. He wore a robe of scarlet, which did not cover his arms and extended no lower than his bare knees. On the bosom of the robe was embroidered a terrible dragon's head, as horrible to look at as the man was beautiful. His arms and legs were left bare and the skin of one arm was bright yellow and the skin of the other arm a vivid green. He had one blue leg and one pink one, while both his feet--which showed through the open sandals he wore--were jet black. Betsy could not decide whether these gorgeous colors were dyes or the natural tints of the skin, but while she was thinking it over the man who had been called "Tubekins" said: "Follow me to the Residence--all of you!" But just then a Voice exclaimed: "Here's another of them, Tubekins, lying in the water of the fountain." [Illustration] "Gracious!" cried Betsy; "it must be Tik-Tok, and he'll drown." "Water is a bad thing for his clockworks, anyhow," agreed Shaggy, as with one accord they all started for the fountain. But before they could reach it, invisible hands raised Tik-Tok from the marble basin and set him upon his feet beside it, water dripping from every joint of his copper body. "Ma--ny tha--tha--tha--thanks!" he said; and then his copper jaws clicked together and he could say no more. He next made an attempt to walk but after several awkward trials found he could not move his joints. Peals of jeering laughter from persons unseen greeted Tik-Tok's failure, and the new arrivals in this strange land found it very uncomfortable to realize that there were many creatures around them who were invisible, yet could be heard plainly. "Shall I wind him up?" asked Betsy, feeling very sorry for Tik-Tok. "I think his machinery is wound; but he needs oiling," replied Shaggy. At once an oil-can appeared before him, held on a level with his eyes by some unseen hand.

captivity

How many times the word 'captivity' appears in the text?

to ask the important question. She dropped to her knees, facing the flowers, and extended both her arms pleadingly toward them. "Tell me, pretty cousins," she said in her sweet, gentle voice, "which way will lead us to the Kingdom of Ruggedo, the Nome King?" At once all the stems bent gracefully to the right and the flower heads nodded once--twice--thrice in that direction. "That's it!" cried Files joyfully. "Now we know the way." Ozga rose to her feet and looked wonderingly at the field-flowers, which had now resumed their upright position. "Was it the wind, do you think?" she asked in a low whisper. "No, indeed," replied Files. "There is not a breath of wind stirring. But these lovely blossoms are indeed your cousins and answered your question at once, as I knew they would." [Illustration] CHAPTER 9 Ruggedo's Rage is Rash and Reckless The way taken by the adventurers led up hill and down dale and wound here and there in a fashion that seemed aimless. But always it drew nearer to a range of low mountains and Files said more than once that he was certain the entrance to Ruggedo's cavern would be found among these rugged hills. In this he was quite correct. Far underneath the nearest mountain was a gorgeous chamber hollowed from the solid rock, the walls and roof of which glittered with thousands of magnificent jewels. Here, on a throne of virgin gold, sat the famous Nome King, dressed in splendid robes and wearing a superb crown cut from a single blood-red ruby. Ruggedo, the Monarch of all the Metals and Precious Stones of the Underground World, was a round little man with a flowing white beard, a red face, bright eyes and a scowl that covered all his forehead. One would think, to look at him, that he ought to be jolly; one might think, considering his enormous wealth, that he ought to be happy; but this was not the case. The Metal Monarch was surly and cross because mortals had dug so much treasure out of the earth and kept it above ground, where all the power of Ruggedo and his nomes was unable to recover it. He hated not only the mortals but also the fairies who live upon the earth or above it, and instead of being content with the riches he still possessed he was unhappy because he did not own all the gold and jewels in the world. Ruggedo had been nodding, half asleep, in his chair when suddenly he sat upright uttered a roar of rage and began pounding upon a huge gong that stood beside him. The sound filled the vast cavern and penetrated to many caverns beyond, where countless thousands of nomes were working at their unending tasks, hammering out gold and silver and other metals, or melting ores in great furnaces, or polishing glittering gems. The nomes trembled at the sound of the King's gong and whispered fearfully to one another that something unpleasant was sure to happen; but none dared pause in his task. The heavy curtains of cloth-of-gold were pushed aside and Kaliko, the King's High Chamberlain, entered the royal presence. "What's up, Your Majesty?" he asked, with a wide yawn, for he had just wakened. "Up?" roared Ruggedo, stamping his foot viciously. "Those foolish mortals are up, that's what! And they want to come down." "Down here?" inquired Kaliko. "Yes!" "How do you know?" continued the Chamberlain, yawning again. "I feel it in my bones," said Ruggedo. "I can always feel it when those hateful earth-crawlers draw near to my Kingdom. I am positive, Kaliko, that mortals are this very minute on their way here to annoy me--and I hate mortals more than I do catnip tea!" "Well, what's to be done?" demanded the nome. "Look through your spyglass, and see where the invaders are," commanded the King. So Kaliko went to a tube in the wall of rock and put his eye to it. The tube ran from the cavern up to the side of the mountain and turned several curves and corners, but as it was a magic spyglass Kaliko was able to see through it just as easily as if it had been straight. "Ho--hum," said he. "I see 'em, Your Majesty." "What do they look like?" inquired the Monarch. "That's a hard question to answer, for a queerer assortment of creatures I never yet beheld," replied the nome. "However, such a collection of curiosities may prove dangerous. There's a copper man, worked by machinery--" "Bah! that's only Tik-Tok," said Ruggedo. "I'm not afraid of him. Why, only the other day I met the fellow and threw him down a well." "Then some one must have pulled him out again," said Kaliko. "And there's a little girl--" "Dorothy?" asked Ruggedo, jumping up in fear. "No; some other girl. In fact, there are several girls, of various sizes; but Dorothy is not with them, nor is Ozma." "That's good!" exclaimed the King, sighing in relief. Kaliko still had his eye to the spyglass. "I see," said he, "an army of men from Oogaboo. They are all officers and carry swords. And there is a Shaggy Man--who seems very harmless--and a little donkey with big ears." "Pooh!" cried Ruggedo, snapping his fingers in scorn. "I've no fear of such a mob as that. A dozen of my nomes can destroy them all in a jiffy." "I'm not so sure of that," said Kaliko. "The people of Oogaboo are hard to destroy, and I believe the Rose Princess is a fairy. As for Polychrome, you know very well that the Rainbow's Daughter cannot be injured by a nome." "Polychrome! Is she among them?" asked the King. "Yes; I have just recognized her." "Then these people are coming here on no peaceful errand," declared Ruggedo, scowling fiercely. "In fact, no one ever comes here on a peaceful errand. I hate everybody, and everybody hates me!" "Very true," said Kaliko. "I must in some way prevent these people from reaching my dominions. Where are they now?" "Just now they are crossing the Rubber Country, Your Majesty." "Good! Are your magnetic rubber wires in working order?" "I think so," replied Kaliko. "Is it your Royal Will that we have some fun with these invaders?" "It is," answered Ruggedo. "I want to teach them a lesson they will never forget." Now, Shaggy had no idea that he was in a Rubber Country, nor had any of his companions. They noticed that everything around them was of a dull gray color and that the path upon which they walked was soft and springy, yet they had no suspicion that the rocks and trees were rubber and even the path they trod was made of rubber. Presently they came to a brook where sparkling water dashed through a deep channel and rushed away between high rocks far down the mountain-side. Across the brook were stepping-stones, so placed that travelers might easily leap from one to another and in that manner cross the water to the farther bank. Tik-Tok was marching ahead, followed by his officers and Queen Ann. After them came Betsy Bobbin and Hank, Polychrome and Shaggy, and last of all the Rose Princess with Files. The Clockwork Man saw the stream and the stepping-stones and, without making a pause, placed his foot upon the first stone. The result was astonishing. First he sank down in the soft rubber, which then rebounded and sent Tik-Tok soaring high in the air, where he turned a succession of flip-flops and alighted upon a rubber rock far in the rear of the party. General Apple did not see Tik-Tok bound, so quickly had he disappeared; therefore he also stepped upon the stone (which you will guess was connected with Kaliko's magnetic rubber wire) and instantly shot upward like an arrow. General Cone came next and met with a like fate, but the others now noticed that something was wrong and with one accord they halted the column and looked back along the path. There was Tik-Tok, still bounding from one rubber rock to another, each time rising a less distance from the ground. And there was General Apple, bounding away in another direction, his three-cornered hat jammed over his eyes and his long sword thumping him upon the arms and head as it swung this way and that. And there, also, appeared General Cone, who had struck a rubber rock headforemost and was so crumpled up that his round body looked more like a bouncing-ball than the form of a man. Betsy laughed merrily at the strange sight and Polychrome echoed her laughter. But Ozga was grave and wondering, while Queen Ann became angry at seeing the chief officers of the Army of Oogaboo bounding around in so undignified a manner. She shouted to them to stop, but they were unable to obey, even though they would have been glad to do so. Finally, however, they all ceased bounding and managed to get upon their feet and rejoin the Army. "Why did you do that?" demanded Ann, who seemed greatly provoked. "Don't ask them why," said Shaggy earnestly. "I knew you would ask them why, but you ought not to do it. The reason is plain. Those stones are rubber; therefore they are not stones. Those rocks around us are rubber, and therefore they are not rocks. Even this path is not a path; it's rubber. Unless we are very careful, your Majesty, we are all likely to get the bounce, just as your poor officers and Tik-Tok did." [Illustration] "Then let's be careful," remarked Files, who was full of wisdom; but Polychrome wanted to test the quality of the rubber, so she began dancing. Every step sent her higher and higher into the air, so that she resembled a big butterfly fluttering lightly. Presently she made a great bound and bounded way across the stream, landing lightly and steadily on the other side. "There is no rubber over here," she called to them. "Suppose you all try to bound over the stream, without touching the stepping-stones." Ann and her officers were reluctant to undertake such a risky adventure, but Betsy at once grasped the value of the suggestion and began jumping up and down until she found herself bounding almost as high as Polychrome had done. Then she suddenly leaned forward and the next bound took her easily across the brook, where she alighted by the side of the Rainbow's Daughter. "Come on, Hank!" called the girl, and the donkey tried to obey. He managed to bound pretty high but when he tried to bound across the stream he misjudged the distance and fell with a splash into the middle of the water. "Hee-haw!" he wailed, struggling toward the far bank. Betsy rushed forward to help him out, but when the mule stood safely beside her she was amazed to find he was not wet at all. "It's dry water," said Polychrome, dipping her hand into the stream and showing how the water fell from it and left it perfectly dry. "In that case," returned Betsy, "they can all walk through the water." She called to Ozga and Shaggy to wade across, assuring them the water was shallow and would not wet them. At once they followed her advice, avoiding the rubber stepping-stones, and made the crossing with ease. This encouraged the entire party to wade through the dry water, and in a few minutes all had assembled on the bank and renewed their journey along the path that led to the Nome King's dominions. When Kaliko again looked through his magic spyglass he exclaimed: "Bad luck, Your Majesty! All the invaders have passed the Rubber Country and now are fast approaching the entrance to your caverns." Ruggedo raved and stormed at the news and his anger was so great that several times, as he strode up and down his jeweled cavern, he paused to kick Kaliko upon his shins, which were so sensitive that the poor nome howled with pain. Finally the King said: "There's no help for it; we must drop these audacious invaders down the Hollow Tube." Kaliko gave a jump, at this, and looked at his master wonderingly. "If you do that, Your Majesty," he said, "you will make Tititi-Hoochoo very angry." "Never mind that," retorted Ruggedo. "Tititi-Hoochoo lives on the other side of the world, so what do I care for his anger?" Kaliko shuddered and uttered a little groan. "Remember his terrible powers," he pleaded, "and remember that he warned you, the last time you slid people through the Hollow Tube, that if you did it again he would take vengeance upon you." The Metal Monarch walked up and down in silence, thinking deeply. "Of two dangers," said he, "it is wise to choose the least. What do you suppose these invaders want?" "Let the Long-Eared Hearer listen to them," suggested Kaliko. "Call him here at once!" commanded Ruggedo eagerly. So in a few minutes there entered the cavern a nome with enormous ears, who bowed low before the King. "Strangers are approaching," said Ruggedo, "and I wish to know their errand. Listen carefully to their talk and tell me why they are coming here, and what for." The nome bowed again and spread out his great ears, swaying them gently up and down and back and forth. For half an hour he stood silent, in an attitude of listening, while both the King and Kaliko grew impatient at the delay. At last the Long-Eared Hearer spoke: [Illustration] "Shaggy Man is coming here to rescue his brother from captivity," said he. "Ha, the Ugly One!" exclaimed Ruggedo. "Well, Shaggy Man may have his ugly brother, for all I care. He's too lazy to work and is always getting in my way. Where is the Ugly One now, Kaliko?" "The last time Your Majesty stumbled over the prisoner you commanded me to send him to the Metal Forest, which I did. I suppose he is still there." "Very good. The invaders will have a hard time finding the Metal Forest," said the King, with a grin of malicious delight, "for half the time I can't find it myself. Yet I created the forest and made every tree, out of gold and silver, so as to keep the precious metals in a safe place and out of the reach of mortals. But tell me, Hearer, do the strangers want anything else?" "Yes, indeed they do!" returned the nome. "The Army of Oogaboo is determined to capture all the rich metals and rare jewels in your kingdom, and the officers and their Queen have arranged to divide the spoils and carry them away." When he heard this Ruggedo uttered a bellow of rage and began dancing up and down, rolling his eyes, clicking his teeth together and swinging his arms furiously. Then, in an ecstasy of anger he seized the long ears of the Hearer and pulled and twisted them cruelly; but Kaliko grabbed up the King's sceptre and rapped him over the knuckles with it, so that Ruggedo let go the ears and began to chase his Royal Chamberlain around the throne. The Hearer took advantage of this opportunity to slip away from the cavern and escape, and after the King had tired himself out chasing Kaliko he threw himself into his throne and panted for breath, while he glared wickedly at his defiant subject. "You'd better save your strength to fight the enemy," suggested Kaliko. "There will be a terrible battle when the Army of Oogaboo gets here." "The Army won't get here," said the King, still coughing and panting. "I'll drop 'em down the Hollow Tube--every man Jack and every girl Jill of 'em!" "And defy Tititi-Hoochoo?" asked Kaliko. "Yes. Go at once to my Chief Magician and order him to turn the path toward the Hollow Tube, and to make the top of the Tube invisible, so they'll all fall into it." Kaliko went away shaking his head, for he thought Ruggedo was making a great mistake. He found the Magician and had the path twisted so that it led directly to the opening of the Hollow Tube, and this opening he made invisible. Having obeyed the orders of his master, the Royal Chamberlain went to his private room and began to write letters of recommendation of himself, stating that he was an honest man, a good servant and a small eater. "Pretty soon," he said to himself, "I shall have to look for another job, for it is certain that Ruggedo has ruined himself by this reckless defiance of the mighty Tititi-Hoochoo. And in seeking a job nothing is so effective as a letter of recommendation." [Illustration] [Illustration] CHAPTER 10 A Terrible Tumble Through a Tube I suppose that Polychrome, and perhaps Queen Ann and her Army, might have been able to dispel the enchantment of Ruggedo's Chief Magician had they known that danger lay in their pathway; for the Rainbow's Daughter was a fairy and as Oogaboo is a part of the Land of Oz its inhabitants cannot easily be deceived by such common magic as the Nome King could command. But no one suspected any especial danger until after they had entered Ruggedo's cavern, and so they were journeying along in quite a contented manner when Tik-Tok, who marched ahead, suddenly disappeared. The officers thought he must have turned a corner, so they kept on their way and all of them likewise disappeared--one after another. Queen Ann was rather surprised at this, and in hastening forward to learn the reason she also vanished from sight. Betsy Bobbin had tired her feet by walking, so she was now riding upon the back of the stout little mule, facing backward and talking to Shaggy and Polychrome, who were just behind. Suddenly Hank pitched forward and began falling and Betsy would have tumbled over his head had she not grabbed the mule's shaggy neck with both arms and held on for dear life. All around was darkness, and they were not falling directly downward but seemed to be sliding along a steep incline. Hank's hoofs were resting upon some smooth substance over which he slid with the swiftness of the wind. Once Betsy's heels flew up and struck a similar substance overhead. They were, indeed, descending the "Hollow Tube" that led to the other side of the world. "Stop, Hank--stop!" cried the girl; but Hank only uttered a plaintive "Hee-haw!" for it was impossible for him to obey. After several minutes had passed and no harm had befallen them, Betsy gained courage. She could see nothing at all, nor could she hear anything except the rush of air past her ears as they plunged downward along the Tube. Whether she and Hank were alone, or the others were with them, she could not tell. But had some one been able to take a flash-light photograph of the Tube at that time a most curious picture would have resulted. There was Tik-Tok, flat upon his back and sliding headforemost down the incline. And there were the Officers of the Army of Oogaboo, all tangled up in a confused crowd, flapping their arms and trying to shield their faces from the clanking swords, which swung back and forth during the swift journey and pommeled everyone within their reach. Now followed Queen Ann, who had struck the Tube in a sitting position and went flying along with a dash and abandon that thoroughly bewildered the poor lady, who had no idea what had happened to her. Then, a little distance away, but unseen by the others in the inky darkness, slid Betsy and Hank, while behind them were Shaggy and Polychrome and finally Files and the Princess. When first they tumbled into the Tube all were too dazed to think clearly, but the trip was a long one, because the cavity led straight through the earth to a place just opposite the Nome King's dominions, and long before the adventurers got to the end they had begun to recover their wits. "This is awful, Hank!" cried Betsy in a loud voice, and Queen Ann heard her and called out: "Are you safe, Betsy?" "Mercy, no!" answered the little girl. "How could anyone be safe when she's going about sixty miles a minute?" Then, after a pause, she added: "But where do you s'pose we're going to, Your Maj'sty?" "Don't ask her that, please don't!" said Shaggy, who was not too far away to overhear them. "And please don't ask me why, either." "Why?" said Betsy. "No one can tell where we are going until we get there," replied Shaggy, and then he yelled "Ouch!" for Polychrome had overtaken him and was now sitting on his head. The Rainbow's Daughter laughed merrily, and so infectious was this joyous laugh that Betsy echoed it and Hank said "Hee-haw!" in a mild and sympathetic tone of voice. "I'd like to know where and when we'll arrive, just the same," exclaimed the little girl. "Be patient and you'll find out, my dear," said Polychrome. "But isn't this an odd experience? Here am I, whose home is in the skies, making a journey through the center of the earth--where I never expected to be!" "How do you know we're in the center of the earth?" asked Betsy, her voice trembling a little through nervousness. "Why, we can't be anywhere else," replied Polychrome. "I have often heard of this passage, which was once built by a Magician who was a great traveler. He thought it would save him the bother of going around the earth's surface, but he tumbled through the Tube so fast that he shot out at the other end and hit a star in the sky, which at once exploded." "The star exploded?" asked Betsy wonderingly. "Yes; the Magician hit it so hard." "And what became of the Magician?" inquired the girl. "No one knows that," answered Polychrome. "But I don't think it matters much." "It matters a good deal, if we also hit the stars when we come out," said Queen Ann, with a moan. "Don't worry," advised Polychrome. "I believe the Magician was going the other way, and probably he went much faster than we are going." "It's fast enough to suit me," remarked Shaggy, gently removing Polychrome's heel from his left eye. "Couldn't you manage to fall all by yourself, my dear?" "I'll try," laughed the Rainbow's Daughter. All this time they were swiftly falling through the Tube, and it was not so easy for them to talk as you may imagine when you read their words. But although they were so helpless and altogether in the dark as to their fate, the fact that they were able to converse at all cheered them considerably. Files and Ozga were also conversing as they clung tightly to one another, and the young fellow bravely strove to reassure the Princess, although he was terribly frightened, both on her account and on his own. An hour, under such trying circumstances, is a very long time, and for more than an hour they continued their fearful journey. Then, just as they began to fear the Tube would never end, Tik-Tok popped out into broad daylight and, after making a graceful circle in the air, fell with a splash into a great marble fountain. Out came the officers, in quick succession, tumbling heels over head and striking the ground in many undignified attitudes. "For the love of sassafras!" exclaimed a Peculiar Person who was hoeing pink violets in a garden. "What can all this mean?" For answer, Queen Ann sailed up from the Tube, took a ride through the air as high as the treetops, and alighted squarely on top of the Peculiar Person's head, smashing a jeweled crown over his eyes and tumbling him to the ground. The mule was heavier and had Betsy clinging to his back, so he did not go so high up. Fortunately for his little rider he struck the ground upon his four feet. Betsy was jarred a trifle but not hurt and when she looked around her she saw the Queen and the Peculiar Person struggling together upon the ground, where the man was trying to choke Ann and she had both hands in his bushy hair and was pulling with all her might. Some of the officers, when they got upon their feet, hastened to separate the combatants and sought to restrain the Peculiar Person so that he could not attack their Queen again. [Illustration] By this time, Shaggy, Polychrome, Ozga and Files had all arrived and were curiously examining the strange country in which they found themselves and which they knew to be exactly on the opposite side of the world from the place where they had fallen into the Tube. It was a lovely place, indeed, and seemed to be the garden of some great Prince, for through the vistas of trees and shrubbery could be seen the towers of an immense castle. But as yet the only inhabitant to greet them was the Peculiar Person just mentioned, who had shaken off the grasp of the officers without effort and was now trying to pull the battered crown from off his eyes. Shaggy, who was always polite, helped him to do this and when the man was free and could see again he looked at his visitors with evident amazement. "Well, well, well!" he exclaimed. "Where did you come from and how did you get here?" Betsy tried to answer him, for Queen Ann was surly and silent. "I can't say, exac'ly where we came from, 'cause I don't know the name of the place," said the girl, "but the way we got here was through the Hollow Tube." "Don't call it a 'hollow' Tube, please," exclaimed the Peculiar Person in an irritated tone of voice. "If it's a tube, it's sure to be hollow." "Why?" asked Betsy. "Because all tubes are made that way. But this Tube is private property and everyone is forbidden to fall into it." "We didn't do it on purpose," explained Betsy, and Polychrome added: "I am quite sure that Ruggedo, the Nome King, pushed us down that Tube." "Ha! Ruggedo! Did you say Ruggedo?" cried the man, becoming much excited. "That is what she said," replied Shaggy, "and I believe she is right. We were on our way to conquer the Nome King when suddenly we fell into the Tube." "Then you are enemies of Ruggedo?" inquired the Peculiar Person. "Not exac'ly enemies," said Betsy, a little puzzled by the question, "'cause we don't know him at all; but we started out to conquer him, which isn't as friendly as it might be." "True," agreed the man. He looked thoughtfully from one to another of them for a while and then he turned his head over his shoulder and said: "Never mind the fire and pincers, my good brothers. It will be best to take these strangers to the Private Citizen." "Very well, Tubekins," responded a Voice, deep and powerful, that seemed to come out of the air, for the speaker was invisible. All our friends gave a jump, at this. Even Polychrome was so startled that her gauze draperies fluttered like a banner in a breeze. Shaggy shook his head and sighed; Queen Ann looked very unhappy; the officers clung to each other, trembling violently. But soon they gained courage to look more closely at the Peculiar Person. As he was a type of all the inhabitants of this extraordinary land whom they afterward met, I will try to tell you what he looked like. His face was beautiful, but lacked expression. His eyes were large and blue in color and his teeth finely formed and white as snow. His hair was black and bushy and seemed inclined to curl at the ends. So far no one could find any fault with his appearance. He wore a robe of scarlet, which did not cover his arms and extended no lower than his bare knees. On the bosom of the robe was embroidered a terrible dragon's head, as horrible to look at as the man was beautiful. His arms and legs were left bare and the skin of one arm was bright yellow and the skin of the other arm a vivid green. He had one blue leg and one pink one, while both his feet--which showed through the open sandals he wore--were jet black. Betsy could not decide whether these gorgeous colors were dyes or the natural tints of the skin, but while she was thinking it over the man who had been called "Tubekins" said: "Follow me to the Residence--all of you!" But just then a Voice exclaimed: "Here's another of them, Tubekins, lying in the water of the fountain." [Illustration] "Gracious!" cried Betsy; "it must be Tik-Tok, and he'll drown." "Water is a bad thing for his clockworks, anyhow," agreed Shaggy, as with one accord they all started for the fountain. But before they could reach it, invisible hands raised Tik-Tok from the marble basin and set him upon his feet beside it, water dripping from every joint of his copper body. "Ma--ny tha--tha--tha--thanks!" he said; and then his copper jaws clicked together and he could say no more. He next made an attempt to walk but after several awkward trials found he could not move his joints. Peals of jeering laughter from persons unseen greeted Tik-Tok's failure, and the new arrivals in this strange land found it very uncomfortable to realize that there were many creatures around them who were invisible, yet could be heard plainly. "Shall I wind him up?" asked Betsy, feeling very sorry for Tik-Tok. "I think his machinery is wound; but he needs oiling," replied Shaggy. At once an oil-can appeared before him, held on a level with his eyes by some unseen hand.

jewels

How many times the word 'jewels' appears in the text?

to ask the important question. She dropped to her knees, facing the flowers, and extended both her arms pleadingly toward them. "Tell me, pretty cousins," she said in her sweet, gentle voice, "which way will lead us to the Kingdom of Ruggedo, the Nome King?" At once all the stems bent gracefully to the right and the flower heads nodded once--twice--thrice in that direction. "That's it!" cried Files joyfully. "Now we know the way." Ozga rose to her feet and looked wonderingly at the field-flowers, which had now resumed their upright position. "Was it the wind, do you think?" she asked in a low whisper. "No, indeed," replied Files. "There is not a breath of wind stirring. But these lovely blossoms are indeed your cousins and answered your question at once, as I knew they would." [Illustration] CHAPTER 9 Ruggedo's Rage is Rash and Reckless The way taken by the adventurers led up hill and down dale and wound here and there in a fashion that seemed aimless. But always it drew nearer to a range of low mountains and Files said more than once that he was certain the entrance to Ruggedo's cavern would be found among these rugged hills. In this he was quite correct. Far underneath the nearest mountain was a gorgeous chamber hollowed from the solid rock, the walls and roof of which glittered with thousands of magnificent jewels. Here, on a throne of virgin gold, sat the famous Nome King, dressed in splendid robes and wearing a superb crown cut from a single blood-red ruby. Ruggedo, the Monarch of all the Metals and Precious Stones of the Underground World, was a round little man with a flowing white beard, a red face, bright eyes and a scowl that covered all his forehead. One would think, to look at him, that he ought to be jolly; one might think, considering his enormous wealth, that he ought to be happy; but this was not the case. The Metal Monarch was surly and cross because mortals had dug so much treasure out of the earth and kept it above ground, where all the power of Ruggedo and his nomes was unable to recover it. He hated not only the mortals but also the fairies who live upon the earth or above it, and instead of being content with the riches he still possessed he was unhappy because he did not own all the gold and jewels in the world. Ruggedo had been nodding, half asleep, in his chair when suddenly he sat upright uttered a roar of rage and began pounding upon a huge gong that stood beside him. The sound filled the vast cavern and penetrated to many caverns beyond, where countless thousands of nomes were working at their unending tasks, hammering out gold and silver and other metals, or melting ores in great furnaces, or polishing glittering gems. The nomes trembled at the sound of the King's gong and whispered fearfully to one another that something unpleasant was sure to happen; but none dared pause in his task. The heavy curtains of cloth-of-gold were pushed aside and Kaliko, the King's High Chamberlain, entered the royal presence. "What's up, Your Majesty?" he asked, with a wide yawn, for he had just wakened. "Up?" roared Ruggedo, stamping his foot viciously. "Those foolish mortals are up, that's what! And they want to come down." "Down here?" inquired Kaliko. "Yes!" "How do you know?" continued the Chamberlain, yawning again. "I feel it in my bones," said Ruggedo. "I can always feel it when those hateful earth-crawlers draw near to my Kingdom. I am positive, Kaliko, that mortals are this very minute on their way here to annoy me--and I hate mortals more than I do catnip tea!" "Well, what's to be done?" demanded the nome. "Look through your spyglass, and see where the invaders are," commanded the King. So Kaliko went to a tube in the wall of rock and put his eye to it. The tube ran from the cavern up to the side of the mountain and turned several curves and corners, but as it was a magic spyglass Kaliko was able to see through it just as easily as if it had been straight. "Ho--hum," said he. "I see 'em, Your Majesty." "What do they look like?" inquired the Monarch. "That's a hard question to answer, for a queerer assortment of creatures I never yet beheld," replied the nome. "However, such a collection of curiosities may prove dangerous. There's a copper man, worked by machinery--" "Bah! that's only Tik-Tok," said Ruggedo. "I'm not afraid of him. Why, only the other day I met the fellow and threw him down a well." "Then some one must have pulled him out again," said Kaliko. "And there's a little girl--" "Dorothy?" asked Ruggedo, jumping up in fear. "No; some other girl. In fact, there are several girls, of various sizes; but Dorothy is not with them, nor is Ozma." "That's good!" exclaimed the King, sighing in relief. Kaliko still had his eye to the spyglass. "I see," said he, "an army of men from Oogaboo. They are all officers and carry swords. And there is a Shaggy Man--who seems very harmless--and a little donkey with big ears." "Pooh!" cried Ruggedo, snapping his fingers in scorn. "I've no fear of such a mob as that. A dozen of my nomes can destroy them all in a jiffy." "I'm not so sure of that," said Kaliko. "The people of Oogaboo are hard to destroy, and I believe the Rose Princess is a fairy. As for Polychrome, you know very well that the Rainbow's Daughter cannot be injured by a nome." "Polychrome! Is she among them?" asked the King. "Yes; I have just recognized her." "Then these people are coming here on no peaceful errand," declared Ruggedo, scowling fiercely. "In fact, no one ever comes here on a peaceful errand. I hate everybody, and everybody hates me!" "Very true," said Kaliko. "I must in some way prevent these people from reaching my dominions. Where are they now?" "Just now they are crossing the Rubber Country, Your Majesty." "Good! Are your magnetic rubber wires in working order?" "I think so," replied Kaliko. "Is it your Royal Will that we have some fun with these invaders?" "It is," answered Ruggedo. "I want to teach them a lesson they will never forget." Now, Shaggy had no idea that he was in a Rubber Country, nor had any of his companions. They noticed that everything around them was of a dull gray color and that the path upon which they walked was soft and springy, yet they had no suspicion that the rocks and trees were rubber and even the path they trod was made of rubber. Presently they came to a brook where sparkling water dashed through a deep channel and rushed away between high rocks far down the mountain-side. Across the brook were stepping-stones, so placed that travelers might easily leap from one to another and in that manner cross the water to the farther bank. Tik-Tok was marching ahead, followed by his officers and Queen Ann. After them came Betsy Bobbin and Hank, Polychrome and Shaggy, and last of all the Rose Princess with Files. The Clockwork Man saw the stream and the stepping-stones and, without making a pause, placed his foot upon the first stone. The result was astonishing. First he sank down in the soft rubber, which then rebounded and sent Tik-Tok soaring high in the air, where he turned a succession of flip-flops and alighted upon a rubber rock far in the rear of the party. General Apple did not see Tik-Tok bound, so quickly had he disappeared; therefore he also stepped upon the stone (which you will guess was connected with Kaliko's magnetic rubber wire) and instantly shot upward like an arrow. General Cone came next and met with a like fate, but the others now noticed that something was wrong and with one accord they halted the column and looked back along the path. There was Tik-Tok, still bounding from one rubber rock to another, each time rising a less distance from the ground. And there was General Apple, bounding away in another direction, his three-cornered hat jammed over his eyes and his long sword thumping him upon the arms and head as it swung this way and that. And there, also, appeared General Cone, who had struck a rubber rock headforemost and was so crumpled up that his round body looked more like a bouncing-ball than the form of a man. Betsy laughed merrily at the strange sight and Polychrome echoed her laughter. But Ozga was grave and wondering, while Queen Ann became angry at seeing the chief officers of the Army of Oogaboo bounding around in so undignified a manner. She shouted to them to stop, but they were unable to obey, even though they would have been glad to do so. Finally, however, they all ceased bounding and managed to get upon their feet and rejoin the Army. "Why did you do that?" demanded Ann, who seemed greatly provoked. "Don't ask them why," said Shaggy earnestly. "I knew you would ask them why, but you ought not to do it. The reason is plain. Those stones are rubber; therefore they are not stones. Those rocks around us are rubber, and therefore they are not rocks. Even this path is not a path; it's rubber. Unless we are very careful, your Majesty, we are all likely to get the bounce, just as your poor officers and Tik-Tok did." [Illustration] "Then let's be careful," remarked Files, who was full of wisdom; but Polychrome wanted to test the quality of the rubber, so she began dancing. Every step sent her higher and higher into the air, so that she resembled a big butterfly fluttering lightly. Presently she made a great bound and bounded way across the stream, landing lightly and steadily on the other side. "There is no rubber over here," she called to them. "Suppose you all try to bound over the stream, without touching the stepping-stones." Ann and her officers were reluctant to undertake such a risky adventure, but Betsy at once grasped the value of the suggestion and began jumping up and down until she found herself bounding almost as high as Polychrome had done. Then she suddenly leaned forward and the next bound took her easily across the brook, where she alighted by the side of the Rainbow's Daughter. "Come on, Hank!" called the girl, and the donkey tried to obey. He managed to bound pretty high but when he tried to bound across the stream he misjudged the distance and fell with a splash into the middle of the water. "Hee-haw!" he wailed, struggling toward the far bank. Betsy rushed forward to help him out, but when the mule stood safely beside her she was amazed to find he was not wet at all. "It's dry water," said Polychrome, dipping her hand into the stream and showing how the water fell from it and left it perfectly dry. "In that case," returned Betsy, "they can all walk through the water." She called to Ozga and Shaggy to wade across, assuring them the water was shallow and would not wet them. At once they followed her advice, avoiding the rubber stepping-stones, and made the crossing with ease. This encouraged the entire party to wade through the dry water, and in a few minutes all had assembled on the bank and renewed their journey along the path that led to the Nome King's dominions. When Kaliko again looked through his magic spyglass he exclaimed: "Bad luck, Your Majesty! All the invaders have passed the Rubber Country and now are fast approaching the entrance to your caverns." Ruggedo raved and stormed at the news and his anger was so great that several times, as he strode up and down his jeweled cavern, he paused to kick Kaliko upon his shins, which were so sensitive that the poor nome howled with pain. Finally the King said: "There's no help for it; we must drop these audacious invaders down the Hollow Tube." Kaliko gave a jump, at this, and looked at his master wonderingly. "If you do that, Your Majesty," he said, "you will make Tititi-Hoochoo very angry." "Never mind that," retorted Ruggedo. "Tititi-Hoochoo lives on the other side of the world, so what do I care for his anger?" Kaliko shuddered and uttered a little groan. "Remember his terrible powers," he pleaded, "and remember that he warned you, the last time you slid people through the Hollow Tube, that if you did it again he would take vengeance upon you." The Metal Monarch walked up and down in silence, thinking deeply. "Of two dangers," said he, "it is wise to choose the least. What do you suppose these invaders want?" "Let the Long-Eared Hearer listen to them," suggested Kaliko. "Call him here at once!" commanded Ruggedo eagerly. So in a few minutes there entered the cavern a nome with enormous ears, who bowed low before the King. "Strangers are approaching," said Ruggedo, "and I wish to know their errand. Listen carefully to their talk and tell me why they are coming here, and what for." The nome bowed again and spread out his great ears, swaying them gently up and down and back and forth. For half an hour he stood silent, in an attitude of listening, while both the King and Kaliko grew impatient at the delay. At last the Long-Eared Hearer spoke: [Illustration] "Shaggy Man is coming here to rescue his brother from captivity," said he. "Ha, the Ugly One!" exclaimed Ruggedo. "Well, Shaggy Man may have his ugly brother, for all I care. He's too lazy to work and is always getting in my way. Where is the Ugly One now, Kaliko?" "The last time Your Majesty stumbled over the prisoner you commanded me to send him to the Metal Forest, which I did. I suppose he is still there." "Very good. The invaders will have a hard time finding the Metal Forest," said the King, with a grin of malicious delight, "for half the time I can't find it myself. Yet I created the forest and made every tree, out of gold and silver, so as to keep the precious metals in a safe place and out of the reach of mortals. But tell me, Hearer, do the strangers want anything else?" "Yes, indeed they do!" returned the nome. "The Army of Oogaboo is determined to capture all the rich metals and rare jewels in your kingdom, and the officers and their Queen have arranged to divide the spoils and carry them away." When he heard this Ruggedo uttered a bellow of rage and began dancing up and down, rolling his eyes, clicking his teeth together and swinging his arms furiously. Then, in an ecstasy of anger he seized the long ears of the Hearer and pulled and twisted them cruelly; but Kaliko grabbed up the King's sceptre and rapped him over the knuckles with it, so that Ruggedo let go the ears and began to chase his Royal Chamberlain around the throne. The Hearer took advantage of this opportunity to slip away from the cavern and escape, and after the King had tired himself out chasing Kaliko he threw himself into his throne and panted for breath, while he glared wickedly at his defiant subject. "You'd better save your strength to fight the enemy," suggested Kaliko. "There will be a terrible battle when the Army of Oogaboo gets here." "The Army won't get here," said the King, still coughing and panting. "I'll drop 'em down the Hollow Tube--every man Jack and every girl Jill of 'em!" "And defy Tititi-Hoochoo?" asked Kaliko. "Yes. Go at once to my Chief Magician and order him to turn the path toward the Hollow Tube, and to make the top of the Tube invisible, so they'll all fall into it." Kaliko went away shaking his head, for he thought Ruggedo was making a great mistake. He found the Magician and had the path twisted so that it led directly to the opening of the Hollow Tube, and this opening he made invisible. Having obeyed the orders of his master, the Royal Chamberlain went to his private room and began to write letters of recommendation of himself, stating that he was an honest man, a good servant and a small eater. "Pretty soon," he said to himself, "I shall have to look for another job, for it is certain that Ruggedo has ruined himself by this reckless defiance of the mighty Tititi-Hoochoo. And in seeking a job nothing is so effective as a letter of recommendation." [Illustration] [Illustration] CHAPTER 10 A Terrible Tumble Through a Tube I suppose that Polychrome, and perhaps Queen Ann and her Army, might have been able to dispel the enchantment of Ruggedo's Chief Magician had they known that danger lay in their pathway; for the Rainbow's Daughter was a fairy and as Oogaboo is a part of the Land of Oz its inhabitants cannot easily be deceived by such common magic as the Nome King could command. But no one suspected any especial danger until after they had entered Ruggedo's cavern, and so they were journeying along in quite a contented manner when Tik-Tok, who marched ahead, suddenly disappeared. The officers thought he must have turned a corner, so they kept on their way and all of them likewise disappeared--one after another. Queen Ann was rather surprised at this, and in hastening forward to learn the reason she also vanished from sight. Betsy Bobbin had tired her feet by walking, so she was now riding upon the back of the stout little mule, facing backward and talking to Shaggy and Polychrome, who were just behind. Suddenly Hank pitched forward and began falling and Betsy would have tumbled over his head had she not grabbed the mule's shaggy neck with both arms and held on for dear life. All around was darkness, and they were not falling directly downward but seemed to be sliding along a steep incline. Hank's hoofs were resting upon some smooth substance over which he slid with the swiftness of the wind. Once Betsy's heels flew up and struck a similar substance overhead. They were, indeed, descending the "Hollow Tube" that led to the other side of the world. "Stop, Hank--stop!" cried the girl; but Hank only uttered a plaintive "Hee-haw!" for it was impossible for him to obey. After several minutes had passed and no harm had befallen them, Betsy gained courage. She could see nothing at all, nor could she hear anything except the rush of air past her ears as they plunged downward along the Tube. Whether she and Hank were alone, or the others were with them, she could not tell. But had some one been able to take a flash-light photograph of the Tube at that time a most curious picture would have resulted. There was Tik-Tok, flat upon his back and sliding headforemost down the incline. And there were the Officers of the Army of Oogaboo, all tangled up in a confused crowd, flapping their arms and trying to shield their faces from the clanking swords, which swung back and forth during the swift journey and pommeled everyone within their reach. Now followed Queen Ann, who had struck the Tube in a sitting position and went flying along with a dash and abandon that thoroughly bewildered the poor lady, who had no idea what had happened to her. Then, a little distance away, but unseen by the others in the inky darkness, slid Betsy and Hank, while behind them were Shaggy and Polychrome and finally Files and the Princess. When first they tumbled into the Tube all were too dazed to think clearly, but the trip was a long one, because the cavity led straight through the earth to a place just opposite the Nome King's dominions, and long before the adventurers got to the end they had begun to recover their wits. "This is awful, Hank!" cried Betsy in a loud voice, and Queen Ann heard her and called out: "Are you safe, Betsy?" "Mercy, no!" answered the little girl. "How could anyone be safe when she's going about sixty miles a minute?" Then, after a pause, she added: "But where do you s'pose we're going to, Your Maj'sty?" "Don't ask her that, please don't!" said Shaggy, who was not too far away to overhear them. "And please don't ask me why, either." "Why?" said Betsy. "No one can tell where we are going until we get there," replied Shaggy, and then he yelled "Ouch!" for Polychrome had overtaken him and was now sitting on his head. The Rainbow's Daughter laughed merrily, and so infectious was this joyous laugh that Betsy echoed it and Hank said "Hee-haw!" in a mild and sympathetic tone of voice. "I'd like to know where and when we'll arrive, just the same," exclaimed the little girl. "Be patient and you'll find out, my dear," said Polychrome. "But isn't this an odd experience? Here am I, whose home is in the skies, making a journey through the center of the earth--where I never expected to be!" "How do you know we're in the center of the earth?" asked Betsy, her voice trembling a little through nervousness. "Why, we can't be anywhere else," replied Polychrome. "I have often heard of this passage, which was once built by a Magician who was a great traveler. He thought it would save him the bother of going around the earth's surface, but he tumbled through the Tube so fast that he shot out at the other end and hit a star in the sky, which at once exploded." "The star exploded?" asked Betsy wonderingly. "Yes; the Magician hit it so hard." "And what became of the Magician?" inquired the girl. "No one knows that," answered Polychrome. "But I don't think it matters much." "It matters a good deal, if we also hit the stars when we come out," said Queen Ann, with a moan. "Don't worry," advised Polychrome. "I believe the Magician was going the other way, and probably he went much faster than we are going." "It's fast enough to suit me," remarked Shaggy, gently removing Polychrome's heel from his left eye. "Couldn't you manage to fall all by yourself, my dear?" "I'll try," laughed the Rainbow's Daughter. All this time they were swiftly falling through the Tube, and it was not so easy for them to talk as you may imagine when you read their words. But although they were so helpless and altogether in the dark as to their fate, the fact that they were able to converse at all cheered them considerably. Files and Ozga were also conversing as they clung tightly to one another, and the young fellow bravely strove to reassure the Princess, although he was terribly frightened, both on her account and on his own. An hour, under such trying circumstances, is a very long time, and for more than an hour they continued their fearful journey. Then, just as they began to fear the Tube would never end, Tik-Tok popped out into broad daylight and, after making a graceful circle in the air, fell with a splash into a great marble fountain. Out came the officers, in quick succession, tumbling heels over head and striking the ground in many undignified attitudes. "For the love of sassafras!" exclaimed a Peculiar Person who was hoeing pink violets in a garden. "What can all this mean?" For answer, Queen Ann sailed up from the Tube, took a ride through the air as high as the treetops, and alighted squarely on top of the Peculiar Person's head, smashing a jeweled crown over his eyes and tumbling him to the ground. The mule was heavier and had Betsy clinging to his back, so he did not go so high up. Fortunately for his little rider he struck the ground upon his four feet. Betsy was jarred a trifle but not hurt and when she looked around her she saw the Queen and the Peculiar Person struggling together upon the ground, where the man was trying to choke Ann and she had both hands in his bushy hair and was pulling with all her might. Some of the officers, when they got upon their feet, hastened to separate the combatants and sought to restrain the Peculiar Person so that he could not attack their Queen again. [Illustration] By this time, Shaggy, Polychrome, Ozga and Files had all arrived and were curiously examining the strange country in which they found themselves and which they knew to be exactly on the opposite side of the world from the place where they had fallen into the Tube. It was a lovely place, indeed, and seemed to be the garden of some great Prince, for through the vistas of trees and shrubbery could be seen the towers of an immense castle. But as yet the only inhabitant to greet them was the Peculiar Person just mentioned, who had shaken off the grasp of the officers without effort and was now trying to pull the battered crown from off his eyes. Shaggy, who was always polite, helped him to do this and when the man was free and could see again he looked at his visitors with evident amazement. "Well, well, well!" he exclaimed. "Where did you come from and how did you get here?" Betsy tried to answer him, for Queen Ann was surly and silent. "I can't say, exac'ly where we came from, 'cause I don't know the name of the place," said the girl, "but the way we got here was through the Hollow Tube." "Don't call it a 'hollow' Tube, please," exclaimed the Peculiar Person in an irritated tone of voice. "If it's a tube, it's sure to be hollow." "Why?" asked Betsy. "Because all tubes are made that way. But this Tube is private property and everyone is forbidden to fall into it." "We didn't do it on purpose," explained Betsy, and Polychrome added: "I am quite sure that Ruggedo, the Nome King, pushed us down that Tube." "Ha! Ruggedo! Did you say Ruggedo?" cried the man, becoming much excited. "That is what she said," replied Shaggy, "and I believe she is right. We were on our way to conquer the Nome King when suddenly we fell into the Tube." "Then you are enemies of Ruggedo?" inquired the Peculiar Person. "Not exac'ly enemies," said Betsy, a little puzzled by the question, "'cause we don't know him at all; but we started out to conquer him, which isn't as friendly as it might be." "True," agreed the man. He looked thoughtfully from one to another of them for a while and then he turned his head over his shoulder and said: "Never mind the fire and pincers, my good brothers. It will be best to take these strangers to the Private Citizen." "Very well, Tubekins," responded a Voice, deep and powerful, that seemed to come out of the air, for the speaker was invisible. All our friends gave a jump, at this. Even Polychrome was so startled that her gauze draperies fluttered like a banner in a breeze. Shaggy shook his head and sighed; Queen Ann looked very unhappy; the officers clung to each other, trembling violently. But soon they gained courage to look more closely at the Peculiar Person. As he was a type of all the inhabitants of this extraordinary land whom they afterward met, I will try to tell you what he looked like. His face was beautiful, but lacked expression. His eyes were large and blue in color and his teeth finely formed and white as snow. His hair was black and bushy and seemed inclined to curl at the ends. So far no one could find any fault with his appearance. He wore a robe of scarlet, which did not cover his arms and extended no lower than his bare knees. On the bosom of the robe was embroidered a terrible dragon's head, as horrible to look at as the man was beautiful. His arms and legs were left bare and the skin of one arm was bright yellow and the skin of the other arm a vivid green. He had one blue leg and one pink one, while both his feet--which showed through the open sandals he wore--were jet black. Betsy could not decide whether these gorgeous colors were dyes or the natural tints of the skin, but while she was thinking it over the man who had been called "Tubekins" said: "Follow me to the Residence--all of you!" But just then a Voice exclaimed: "Here's another of them, Tubekins, lying in the water of the fountain." [Illustration] "Gracious!" cried Betsy; "it must be Tik-Tok, and he'll drown." "Water is a bad thing for his clockworks, anyhow," agreed Shaggy, as with one accord they all started for the fountain. But before they could reach it, invisible hands raised Tik-Tok from the marble basin and set him upon his feet beside it, water dripping from every joint of his copper body. "Ma--ny tha--tha--tha--thanks!" he said; and then his copper jaws clicked together and he could say no more. He next made an attempt to walk but after several awkward trials found he could not move his joints. Peals of jeering laughter from persons unseen greeted Tik-Tok's failure, and the new arrivals in this strange land found it very uncomfortable to realize that there were many creatures around them who were invisible, yet could be heard plainly. "Shall I wind him up?" asked Betsy, feeling very sorry for Tik-Tok. "I think his machinery is wound; but he needs oiling," replied Shaggy. At once an oil-can appeared before him, held on a level with his eyes by some unseen hand.

beside

How many times the word 'beside' appears in the text?

to ask the important question. She dropped to her knees, facing the flowers, and extended both her arms pleadingly toward them. "Tell me, pretty cousins," she said in her sweet, gentle voice, "which way will lead us to the Kingdom of Ruggedo, the Nome King?" At once all the stems bent gracefully to the right and the flower heads nodded once--twice--thrice in that direction. "That's it!" cried Files joyfully. "Now we know the way." Ozga rose to her feet and looked wonderingly at the field-flowers, which had now resumed their upright position. "Was it the wind, do you think?" she asked in a low whisper. "No, indeed," replied Files. "There is not a breath of wind stirring. But these lovely blossoms are indeed your cousins and answered your question at once, as I knew they would." [Illustration] CHAPTER 9 Ruggedo's Rage is Rash and Reckless The way taken by the adventurers led up hill and down dale and wound here and there in a fashion that seemed aimless. But always it drew nearer to a range of low mountains and Files said more than once that he was certain the entrance to Ruggedo's cavern would be found among these rugged hills. In this he was quite correct. Far underneath the nearest mountain was a gorgeous chamber hollowed from the solid rock, the walls and roof of which glittered with thousands of magnificent jewels. Here, on a throne of virgin gold, sat the famous Nome King, dressed in splendid robes and wearing a superb crown cut from a single blood-red ruby. Ruggedo, the Monarch of all the Metals and Precious Stones of the Underground World, was a round little man with a flowing white beard, a red face, bright eyes and a scowl that covered all his forehead. One would think, to look at him, that he ought to be jolly; one might think, considering his enormous wealth, that he ought to be happy; but this was not the case. The Metal Monarch was surly and cross because mortals had dug so much treasure out of the earth and kept it above ground, where all the power of Ruggedo and his nomes was unable to recover it. He hated not only the mortals but also the fairies who live upon the earth or above it, and instead of being content with the riches he still possessed he was unhappy because he did not own all the gold and jewels in the world. Ruggedo had been nodding, half asleep, in his chair when suddenly he sat upright uttered a roar of rage and began pounding upon a huge gong that stood beside him. The sound filled the vast cavern and penetrated to many caverns beyond, where countless thousands of nomes were working at their unending tasks, hammering out gold and silver and other metals, or melting ores in great furnaces, or polishing glittering gems. The nomes trembled at the sound of the King's gong and whispered fearfully to one another that something unpleasant was sure to happen; but none dared pause in his task. The heavy curtains of cloth-of-gold were pushed aside and Kaliko, the King's High Chamberlain, entered the royal presence. "What's up, Your Majesty?" he asked, with a wide yawn, for he had just wakened. "Up?" roared Ruggedo, stamping his foot viciously. "Those foolish mortals are up, that's what! And they want to come down." "Down here?" inquired Kaliko. "Yes!" "How do you know?" continued the Chamberlain, yawning again. "I feel it in my bones," said Ruggedo. "I can always feel it when those hateful earth-crawlers draw near to my Kingdom. I am positive, Kaliko, that mortals are this very minute on their way here to annoy me--and I hate mortals more than I do catnip tea!" "Well, what's to be done?" demanded the nome. "Look through your spyglass, and see where the invaders are," commanded the King. So Kaliko went to a tube in the wall of rock and put his eye to it. The tube ran from the cavern up to the side of the mountain and turned several curves and corners, but as it was a magic spyglass Kaliko was able to see through it just as easily as if it had been straight. "Ho--hum," said he. "I see 'em, Your Majesty." "What do they look like?" inquired the Monarch. "That's a hard question to answer, for a queerer assortment of creatures I never yet beheld," replied the nome. "However, such a collection of curiosities may prove dangerous. There's a copper man, worked by machinery--" "Bah! that's only Tik-Tok," said Ruggedo. "I'm not afraid of him. Why, only the other day I met the fellow and threw him down a well." "Then some one must have pulled him out again," said Kaliko. "And there's a little girl--" "Dorothy?" asked Ruggedo, jumping up in fear. "No; some other girl. In fact, there are several girls, of various sizes; but Dorothy is not with them, nor is Ozma." "That's good!" exclaimed the King, sighing in relief. Kaliko still had his eye to the spyglass. "I see," said he, "an army of men from Oogaboo. They are all officers and carry swords. And there is a Shaggy Man--who seems very harmless--and a little donkey with big ears." "Pooh!" cried Ruggedo, snapping his fingers in scorn. "I've no fear of such a mob as that. A dozen of my nomes can destroy them all in a jiffy." "I'm not so sure of that," said Kaliko. "The people of Oogaboo are hard to destroy, and I believe the Rose Princess is a fairy. As for Polychrome, you know very well that the Rainbow's Daughter cannot be injured by a nome." "Polychrome! Is she among them?" asked the King. "Yes; I have just recognized her." "Then these people are coming here on no peaceful errand," declared Ruggedo, scowling fiercely. "In fact, no one ever comes here on a peaceful errand. I hate everybody, and everybody hates me!" "Very true," said Kaliko. "I must in some way prevent these people from reaching my dominions. Where are they now?" "Just now they are crossing the Rubber Country, Your Majesty." "Good! Are your magnetic rubber wires in working order?" "I think so," replied Kaliko. "Is it your Royal Will that we have some fun with these invaders?" "It is," answered Ruggedo. "I want to teach them a lesson they will never forget." Now, Shaggy had no idea that he was in a Rubber Country, nor had any of his companions. They noticed that everything around them was of a dull gray color and that the path upon which they walked was soft and springy, yet they had no suspicion that the rocks and trees were rubber and even the path they trod was made of rubber. Presently they came to a brook where sparkling water dashed through a deep channel and rushed away between high rocks far down the mountain-side. Across the brook were stepping-stones, so placed that travelers might easily leap from one to another and in that manner cross the water to the farther bank. Tik-Tok was marching ahead, followed by his officers and Queen Ann. After them came Betsy Bobbin and Hank, Polychrome and Shaggy, and last of all the Rose Princess with Files. The Clockwork Man saw the stream and the stepping-stones and, without making a pause, placed his foot upon the first stone. The result was astonishing. First he sank down in the soft rubber, which then rebounded and sent Tik-Tok soaring high in the air, where he turned a succession of flip-flops and alighted upon a rubber rock far in the rear of the party. General Apple did not see Tik-Tok bound, so quickly had he disappeared; therefore he also stepped upon the stone (which you will guess was connected with Kaliko's magnetic rubber wire) and instantly shot upward like an arrow. General Cone came next and met with a like fate, but the others now noticed that something was wrong and with one accord they halted the column and looked back along the path. There was Tik-Tok, still bounding from one rubber rock to another, each time rising a less distance from the ground. And there was General Apple, bounding away in another direction, his three-cornered hat jammed over his eyes and his long sword thumping him upon the arms and head as it swung this way and that. And there, also, appeared General Cone, who had struck a rubber rock headforemost and was so crumpled up that his round body looked more like a bouncing-ball than the form of a man. Betsy laughed merrily at the strange sight and Polychrome echoed her laughter. But Ozga was grave and wondering, while Queen Ann became angry at seeing the chief officers of the Army of Oogaboo bounding around in so undignified a manner. She shouted to them to stop, but they were unable to obey, even though they would have been glad to do so. Finally, however, they all ceased bounding and managed to get upon their feet and rejoin the Army. "Why did you do that?" demanded Ann, who seemed greatly provoked. "Don't ask them why," said Shaggy earnestly. "I knew you would ask them why, but you ought not to do it. The reason is plain. Those stones are rubber; therefore they are not stones. Those rocks around us are rubber, and therefore they are not rocks. Even this path is not a path; it's rubber. Unless we are very careful, your Majesty, we are all likely to get the bounce, just as your poor officers and Tik-Tok did." [Illustration] "Then let's be careful," remarked Files, who was full of wisdom; but Polychrome wanted to test the quality of the rubber, so she began dancing. Every step sent her higher and higher into the air, so that she resembled a big butterfly fluttering lightly. Presently she made a great bound and bounded way across the stream, landing lightly and steadily on the other side. "There is no rubber over here," she called to them. "Suppose you all try to bound over the stream, without touching the stepping-stones." Ann and her officers were reluctant to undertake such a risky adventure, but Betsy at once grasped the value of the suggestion and began jumping up and down until she found herself bounding almost as high as Polychrome had done. Then she suddenly leaned forward and the next bound took her easily across the brook, where she alighted by the side of the Rainbow's Daughter. "Come on, Hank!" called the girl, and the donkey tried to obey. He managed to bound pretty high but when he tried to bound across the stream he misjudged the distance and fell with a splash into the middle of the water. "Hee-haw!" he wailed, struggling toward the far bank. Betsy rushed forward to help him out, but when the mule stood safely beside her she was amazed to find he was not wet at all. "It's dry water," said Polychrome, dipping her hand into the stream and showing how the water fell from it and left it perfectly dry. "In that case," returned Betsy, "they can all walk through the water." She called to Ozga and Shaggy to wade across, assuring them the water was shallow and would not wet them. At once they followed her advice, avoiding the rubber stepping-stones, and made the crossing with ease. This encouraged the entire party to wade through the dry water, and in a few minutes all had assembled on the bank and renewed their journey along the path that led to the Nome King's dominions. When Kaliko again looked through his magic spyglass he exclaimed: "Bad luck, Your Majesty! All the invaders have passed the Rubber Country and now are fast approaching the entrance to your caverns." Ruggedo raved and stormed at the news and his anger was so great that several times, as he strode up and down his jeweled cavern, he paused to kick Kaliko upon his shins, which were so sensitive that the poor nome howled with pain. Finally the King said: "There's no help for it; we must drop these audacious invaders down the Hollow Tube." Kaliko gave a jump, at this, and looked at his master wonderingly. "If you do that, Your Majesty," he said, "you will make Tititi-Hoochoo very angry." "Never mind that," retorted Ruggedo. "Tititi-Hoochoo lives on the other side of the world, so what do I care for his anger?" Kaliko shuddered and uttered a little groan. "Remember his terrible powers," he pleaded, "and remember that he warned you, the last time you slid people through the Hollow Tube, that if you did it again he would take vengeance upon you." The Metal Monarch walked up and down in silence, thinking deeply. "Of two dangers," said he, "it is wise to choose the least. What do you suppose these invaders want?" "Let the Long-Eared Hearer listen to them," suggested Kaliko. "Call him here at once!" commanded Ruggedo eagerly. So in a few minutes there entered the cavern a nome with enormous ears, who bowed low before the King. "Strangers are approaching," said Ruggedo, "and I wish to know their errand. Listen carefully to their talk and tell me why they are coming here, and what for." The nome bowed again and spread out his great ears, swaying them gently up and down and back and forth. For half an hour he stood silent, in an attitude of listening, while both the King and Kaliko grew impatient at the delay. At last the Long-Eared Hearer spoke: [Illustration] "Shaggy Man is coming here to rescue his brother from captivity," said he. "Ha, the Ugly One!" exclaimed Ruggedo. "Well, Shaggy Man may have his ugly brother, for all I care. He's too lazy to work and is always getting in my way. Where is the Ugly One now, Kaliko?" "The last time Your Majesty stumbled over the prisoner you commanded me to send him to the Metal Forest, which I did. I suppose he is still there." "Very good. The invaders will have a hard time finding the Metal Forest," said the King, with a grin of malicious delight, "for half the time I can't find it myself. Yet I created the forest and made every tree, out of gold and silver, so as to keep the precious metals in a safe place and out of the reach of mortals. But tell me, Hearer, do the strangers want anything else?" "Yes, indeed they do!" returned the nome. "The Army of Oogaboo is determined to capture all the rich metals and rare jewels in your kingdom, and the officers and their Queen have arranged to divide the spoils and carry them away." When he heard this Ruggedo uttered a bellow of rage and began dancing up and down, rolling his eyes, clicking his teeth together and swinging his arms furiously. Then, in an ecstasy of anger he seized the long ears of the Hearer and pulled and twisted them cruelly; but Kaliko grabbed up the King's sceptre and rapped him over the knuckles with it, so that Ruggedo let go the ears and began to chase his Royal Chamberlain around the throne. The Hearer took advantage of this opportunity to slip away from the cavern and escape, and after the King had tired himself out chasing Kaliko he threw himself into his throne and panted for breath, while he glared wickedly at his defiant subject. "You'd better save your strength to fight the enemy," suggested Kaliko. "There will be a terrible battle when the Army of Oogaboo gets here." "The Army won't get here," said the King, still coughing and panting. "I'll drop 'em down the Hollow Tube--every man Jack and every girl Jill of 'em!" "And defy Tititi-Hoochoo?" asked Kaliko. "Yes. Go at once to my Chief Magician and order him to turn the path toward the Hollow Tube, and to make the top of the Tube invisible, so they'll all fall into it." Kaliko went away shaking his head, for he thought Ruggedo was making a great mistake. He found the Magician and had the path twisted so that it led directly to the opening of the Hollow Tube, and this opening he made invisible. Having obeyed the orders of his master, the Royal Chamberlain went to his private room and began to write letters of recommendation of himself, stating that he was an honest man, a good servant and a small eater. "Pretty soon," he said to himself, "I shall have to look for another job, for it is certain that Ruggedo has ruined himself by this reckless defiance of the mighty Tititi-Hoochoo. And in seeking a job nothing is so effective as a letter of recommendation." [Illustration] [Illustration] CHAPTER 10 A Terrible Tumble Through a Tube I suppose that Polychrome, and perhaps Queen Ann and her Army, might have been able to dispel the enchantment of Ruggedo's Chief Magician had they known that danger lay in their pathway; for the Rainbow's Daughter was a fairy and as Oogaboo is a part of the Land of Oz its inhabitants cannot easily be deceived by such common magic as the Nome King could command. But no one suspected any especial danger until after they had entered Ruggedo's cavern, and so they were journeying along in quite a contented manner when Tik-Tok, who marched ahead, suddenly disappeared. The officers thought he must have turned a corner, so they kept on their way and all of them likewise disappeared--one after another. Queen Ann was rather surprised at this, and in hastening forward to learn the reason she also vanished from sight. Betsy Bobbin had tired her feet by walking, so she was now riding upon the back of the stout little mule, facing backward and talking to Shaggy and Polychrome, who were just behind. Suddenly Hank pitched forward and began falling and Betsy would have tumbled over his head had she not grabbed the mule's shaggy neck with both arms and held on for dear life. All around was darkness, and they were not falling directly downward but seemed to be sliding along a steep incline. Hank's hoofs were resting upon some smooth substance over which he slid with the swiftness of the wind. Once Betsy's heels flew up and struck a similar substance overhead. They were, indeed, descending the "Hollow Tube" that led to the other side of the world. "Stop, Hank--stop!" cried the girl; but Hank only uttered a plaintive "Hee-haw!" for it was impossible for him to obey. After several minutes had passed and no harm had befallen them, Betsy gained courage. She could see nothing at all, nor could she hear anything except the rush of air past her ears as they plunged downward along the Tube. Whether she and Hank were alone, or the others were with them, she could not tell. But had some one been able to take a flash-light photograph of the Tube at that time a most curious picture would have resulted. There was Tik-Tok, flat upon his back and sliding headforemost down the incline. And there were the Officers of the Army of Oogaboo, all tangled up in a confused crowd, flapping their arms and trying to shield their faces from the clanking swords, which swung back and forth during the swift journey and pommeled everyone within their reach. Now followed Queen Ann, who had struck the Tube in a sitting position and went flying along with a dash and abandon that thoroughly bewildered the poor lady, who had no idea what had happened to her. Then, a little distance away, but unseen by the others in the inky darkness, slid Betsy and Hank, while behind them were Shaggy and Polychrome and finally Files and the Princess. When first they tumbled into the Tube all were too dazed to think clearly, but the trip was a long one, because the cavity led straight through the earth to a place just opposite the Nome King's dominions, and long before the adventurers got to the end they had begun to recover their wits. "This is awful, Hank!" cried Betsy in a loud voice, and Queen Ann heard her and called out: "Are you safe, Betsy?" "Mercy, no!" answered the little girl. "How could anyone be safe when she's going about sixty miles a minute?" Then, after a pause, she added: "But where do you s'pose we're going to, Your Maj'sty?" "Don't ask her that, please don't!" said Shaggy, who was not too far away to overhear them. "And please don't ask me why, either." "Why?" said Betsy. "No one can tell where we are going until we get there," replied Shaggy, and then he yelled "Ouch!" for Polychrome had overtaken him and was now sitting on his head. The Rainbow's Daughter laughed merrily, and so infectious was this joyous laugh that Betsy echoed it and Hank said "Hee-haw!" in a mild and sympathetic tone of voice. "I'd like to know where and when we'll arrive, just the same," exclaimed the little girl. "Be patient and you'll find out, my dear," said Polychrome. "But isn't this an odd experience? Here am I, whose home is in the skies, making a journey through the center of the earth--where I never expected to be!" "How do you know we're in the center of the earth?" asked Betsy, her voice trembling a little through nervousness. "Why, we can't be anywhere else," replied Polychrome. "I have often heard of this passage, which was once built by a Magician who was a great traveler. He thought it would save him the bother of going around the earth's surface, but he tumbled through the Tube so fast that he shot out at the other end and hit a star in the sky, which at once exploded." "The star exploded?" asked Betsy wonderingly. "Yes; the Magician hit it so hard." "And what became of the Magician?" inquired the girl. "No one knows that," answered Polychrome. "But I don't think it matters much." "It matters a good deal, if we also hit the stars when we come out," said Queen Ann, with a moan. "Don't worry," advised Polychrome. "I believe the Magician was going the other way, and probably he went much faster than we are going." "It's fast enough to suit me," remarked Shaggy, gently removing Polychrome's heel from his left eye. "Couldn't you manage to fall all by yourself, my dear?" "I'll try," laughed the Rainbow's Daughter. All this time they were swiftly falling through the Tube, and it was not so easy for them to talk as you may imagine when you read their words. But although they were so helpless and altogether in the dark as to their fate, the fact that they were able to converse at all cheered them considerably. Files and Ozga were also conversing as they clung tightly to one another, and the young fellow bravely strove to reassure the Princess, although he was terribly frightened, both on her account and on his own. An hour, under such trying circumstances, is a very long time, and for more than an hour they continued their fearful journey. Then, just as they began to fear the Tube would never end, Tik-Tok popped out into broad daylight and, after making a graceful circle in the air, fell with a splash into a great marble fountain. Out came the officers, in quick succession, tumbling heels over head and striking the ground in many undignified attitudes. "For the love of sassafras!" exclaimed a Peculiar Person who was hoeing pink violets in a garden. "What can all this mean?" For answer, Queen Ann sailed up from the Tube, took a ride through the air as high as the treetops, and alighted squarely on top of the Peculiar Person's head, smashing a jeweled crown over his eyes and tumbling him to the ground. The mule was heavier and had Betsy clinging to his back, so he did not go so high up. Fortunately for his little rider he struck the ground upon his four feet. Betsy was jarred a trifle but not hurt and when she looked around her she saw the Queen and the Peculiar Person struggling together upon the ground, where the man was trying to choke Ann and she had both hands in his bushy hair and was pulling with all her might. Some of the officers, when they got upon their feet, hastened to separate the combatants and sought to restrain the Peculiar Person so that he could not attack their Queen again. [Illustration] By this time, Shaggy, Polychrome, Ozga and Files had all arrived and were curiously examining the strange country in which they found themselves and which they knew to be exactly on the opposite side of the world from the place where they had fallen into the Tube. It was a lovely place, indeed, and seemed to be the garden of some great Prince, for through the vistas of trees and shrubbery could be seen the towers of an immense castle. But as yet the only inhabitant to greet them was the Peculiar Person just mentioned, who had shaken off the grasp of the officers without effort and was now trying to pull the battered crown from off his eyes. Shaggy, who was always polite, helped him to do this and when the man was free and could see again he looked at his visitors with evident amazement. "Well, well, well!" he exclaimed. "Where did you come from and how did you get here?" Betsy tried to answer him, for Queen Ann was surly and silent. "I can't say, exac'ly where we came from, 'cause I don't know the name of the place," said the girl, "but the way we got here was through the Hollow Tube." "Don't call it a 'hollow' Tube, please," exclaimed the Peculiar Person in an irritated tone of voice. "If it's a tube, it's sure to be hollow." "Why?" asked Betsy. "Because all tubes are made that way. But this Tube is private property and everyone is forbidden to fall into it." "We didn't do it on purpose," explained Betsy, and Polychrome added: "I am quite sure that Ruggedo, the Nome King, pushed us down that Tube." "Ha! Ruggedo! Did you say Ruggedo?" cried the man, becoming much excited. "That is what she said," replied Shaggy, "and I believe she is right. We were on our way to conquer the Nome King when suddenly we fell into the Tube." "Then you are enemies of Ruggedo?" inquired the Peculiar Person. "Not exac'ly enemies," said Betsy, a little puzzled by the question, "'cause we don't know him at all; but we started out to conquer him, which isn't as friendly as it might be." "True," agreed the man. He looked thoughtfully from one to another of them for a while and then he turned his head over his shoulder and said: "Never mind the fire and pincers, my good brothers. It will be best to take these strangers to the Private Citizen." "Very well, Tubekins," responded a Voice, deep and powerful, that seemed to come out of the air, for the speaker was invisible. All our friends gave a jump, at this. Even Polychrome was so startled that her gauze draperies fluttered like a banner in a breeze. Shaggy shook his head and sighed; Queen Ann looked very unhappy; the officers clung to each other, trembling violently. But soon they gained courage to look more closely at the Peculiar Person. As he was a type of all the inhabitants of this extraordinary land whom they afterward met, I will try to tell you what he looked like. His face was beautiful, but lacked expression. His eyes were large and blue in color and his teeth finely formed and white as snow. His hair was black and bushy and seemed inclined to curl at the ends. So far no one could find any fault with his appearance. He wore a robe of scarlet, which did not cover his arms and extended no lower than his bare knees. On the bosom of the robe was embroidered a terrible dragon's head, as horrible to look at as the man was beautiful. His arms and legs were left bare and the skin of one arm was bright yellow and the skin of the other arm a vivid green. He had one blue leg and one pink one, while both his feet--which showed through the open sandals he wore--were jet black. Betsy could not decide whether these gorgeous colors were dyes or the natural tints of the skin, but while she was thinking it over the man who had been called "Tubekins" said: "Follow me to the Residence--all of you!" But just then a Voice exclaimed: "Here's another of them, Tubekins, lying in the water of the fountain." [Illustration] "Gracious!" cried Betsy; "it must be Tik-Tok, and he'll drown." "Water is a bad thing for his clockworks, anyhow," agreed Shaggy, as with one accord they all started for the fountain. But before they could reach it, invisible hands raised Tik-Tok from the marble basin and set him upon his feet beside it, water dripping from every joint of his copper body. "Ma--ny tha--tha--tha--thanks!" he said; and then his copper jaws clicked together and he could say no more. He next made an attempt to walk but after several awkward trials found he could not move his joints. Peals of jeering laughter from persons unseen greeted Tik-Tok's failure, and the new arrivals in this strange land found it very uncomfortable to realize that there were many creatures around them who were invisible, yet could be heard plainly. "Shall I wind him up?" asked Betsy, feeling very sorry for Tik-Tok. "I think his machinery is wound; but he needs oiling," replied Shaggy. At once an oil-can appeared before him, held on a level with his eyes by some unseen hand.

dominions

How many times the word 'dominions' appears in the text?

to ask the important question. She dropped to her knees, facing the flowers, and extended both her arms pleadingly toward them. "Tell me, pretty cousins," she said in her sweet, gentle voice, "which way will lead us to the Kingdom of Ruggedo, the Nome King?" At once all the stems bent gracefully to the right and the flower heads nodded once--twice--thrice in that direction. "That's it!" cried Files joyfully. "Now we know the way." Ozga rose to her feet and looked wonderingly at the field-flowers, which had now resumed their upright position. "Was it the wind, do you think?" she asked in a low whisper. "No, indeed," replied Files. "There is not a breath of wind stirring. But these lovely blossoms are indeed your cousins and answered your question at once, as I knew they would." [Illustration] CHAPTER 9 Ruggedo's Rage is Rash and Reckless The way taken by the adventurers led up hill and down dale and wound here and there in a fashion that seemed aimless. But always it drew nearer to a range of low mountains and Files said more than once that he was certain the entrance to Ruggedo's cavern would be found among these rugged hills. In this he was quite correct. Far underneath the nearest mountain was a gorgeous chamber hollowed from the solid rock, the walls and roof of which glittered with thousands of magnificent jewels. Here, on a throne of virgin gold, sat the famous Nome King, dressed in splendid robes and wearing a superb crown cut from a single blood-red ruby. Ruggedo, the Monarch of all the Metals and Precious Stones of the Underground World, was a round little man with a flowing white beard, a red face, bright eyes and a scowl that covered all his forehead. One would think, to look at him, that he ought to be jolly; one might think, considering his enormous wealth, that he ought to be happy; but this was not the case. The Metal Monarch was surly and cross because mortals had dug so much treasure out of the earth and kept it above ground, where all the power of Ruggedo and his nomes was unable to recover it. He hated not only the mortals but also the fairies who live upon the earth or above it, and instead of being content with the riches he still possessed he was unhappy because he did not own all the gold and jewels in the world. Ruggedo had been nodding, half asleep, in his chair when suddenly he sat upright uttered a roar of rage and began pounding upon a huge gong that stood beside him. The sound filled the vast cavern and penetrated to many caverns beyond, where countless thousands of nomes were working at their unending tasks, hammering out gold and silver and other metals, or melting ores in great furnaces, or polishing glittering gems. The nomes trembled at the sound of the King's gong and whispered fearfully to one another that something unpleasant was sure to happen; but none dared pause in his task. The heavy curtains of cloth-of-gold were pushed aside and Kaliko, the King's High Chamberlain, entered the royal presence. "What's up, Your Majesty?" he asked, with a wide yawn, for he had just wakened. "Up?" roared Ruggedo, stamping his foot viciously. "Those foolish mortals are up, that's what! And they want to come down." "Down here?" inquired Kaliko. "Yes!" "How do you know?" continued the Chamberlain, yawning again. "I feel it in my bones," said Ruggedo. "I can always feel it when those hateful earth-crawlers draw near to my Kingdom. I am positive, Kaliko, that mortals are this very minute on their way here to annoy me--and I hate mortals more than I do catnip tea!" "Well, what's to be done?" demanded the nome. "Look through your spyglass, and see where the invaders are," commanded the King. So Kaliko went to a tube in the wall of rock and put his eye to it. The tube ran from the cavern up to the side of the mountain and turned several curves and corners, but as it was a magic spyglass Kaliko was able to see through it just as easily as if it had been straight. "Ho--hum," said he. "I see 'em, Your Majesty." "What do they look like?" inquired the Monarch. "That's a hard question to answer, for a queerer assortment of creatures I never yet beheld," replied the nome. "However, such a collection of curiosities may prove dangerous. There's a copper man, worked by machinery--" "Bah! that's only Tik-Tok," said Ruggedo. "I'm not afraid of him. Why, only the other day I met the fellow and threw him down a well." "Then some one must have pulled him out again," said Kaliko. "And there's a little girl--" "Dorothy?" asked Ruggedo, jumping up in fear. "No; some other girl. In fact, there are several girls, of various sizes; but Dorothy is not with them, nor is Ozma." "That's good!" exclaimed the King, sighing in relief. Kaliko still had his eye to the spyglass. "I see," said he, "an army of men from Oogaboo. They are all officers and carry swords. And there is a Shaggy Man--who seems very harmless--and a little donkey with big ears." "Pooh!" cried Ruggedo, snapping his fingers in scorn. "I've no fear of such a mob as that. A dozen of my nomes can destroy them all in a jiffy." "I'm not so sure of that," said Kaliko. "The people of Oogaboo are hard to destroy, and I believe the Rose Princess is a fairy. As for Polychrome, you know very well that the Rainbow's Daughter cannot be injured by a nome." "Polychrome! Is she among them?" asked the King. "Yes; I have just recognized her." "Then these people are coming here on no peaceful errand," declared Ruggedo, scowling fiercely. "In fact, no one ever comes here on a peaceful errand. I hate everybody, and everybody hates me!" "Very true," said Kaliko. "I must in some way prevent these people from reaching my dominions. Where are they now?" "Just now they are crossing the Rubber Country, Your Majesty." "Good! Are your magnetic rubber wires in working order?" "I think so," replied Kaliko. "Is it your Royal Will that we have some fun with these invaders?" "It is," answered Ruggedo. "I want to teach them a lesson they will never forget." Now, Shaggy had no idea that he was in a Rubber Country, nor had any of his companions. They noticed that everything around them was of a dull gray color and that the path upon which they walked was soft and springy, yet they had no suspicion that the rocks and trees were rubber and even the path they trod was made of rubber. Presently they came to a brook where sparkling water dashed through a deep channel and rushed away between high rocks far down the mountain-side. Across the brook were stepping-stones, so placed that travelers might easily leap from one to another and in that manner cross the water to the farther bank. Tik-Tok was marching ahead, followed by his officers and Queen Ann. After them came Betsy Bobbin and Hank, Polychrome and Shaggy, and last of all the Rose Princess with Files. The Clockwork Man saw the stream and the stepping-stones and, without making a pause, placed his foot upon the first stone. The result was astonishing. First he sank down in the soft rubber, which then rebounded and sent Tik-Tok soaring high in the air, where he turned a succession of flip-flops and alighted upon a rubber rock far in the rear of the party. General Apple did not see Tik-Tok bound, so quickly had he disappeared; therefore he also stepped upon the stone (which you will guess was connected with Kaliko's magnetic rubber wire) and instantly shot upward like an arrow. General Cone came next and met with a like fate, but the others now noticed that something was wrong and with one accord they halted the column and looked back along the path. There was Tik-Tok, still bounding from one rubber rock to another, each time rising a less distance from the ground. And there was General Apple, bounding away in another direction, his three-cornered hat jammed over his eyes and his long sword thumping him upon the arms and head as it swung this way and that. And there, also, appeared General Cone, who had struck a rubber rock headforemost and was so crumpled up that his round body looked more like a bouncing-ball than the form of a man. Betsy laughed merrily at the strange sight and Polychrome echoed her laughter. But Ozga was grave and wondering, while Queen Ann became angry at seeing the chief officers of the Army of Oogaboo bounding around in so undignified a manner. She shouted to them to stop, but they were unable to obey, even though they would have been glad to do so. Finally, however, they all ceased bounding and managed to get upon their feet and rejoin the Army. "Why did you do that?" demanded Ann, who seemed greatly provoked. "Don't ask them why," said Shaggy earnestly. "I knew you would ask them why, but you ought not to do it. The reason is plain. Those stones are rubber; therefore they are not stones. Those rocks around us are rubber, and therefore they are not rocks. Even this path is not a path; it's rubber. Unless we are very careful, your Majesty, we are all likely to get the bounce, just as your poor officers and Tik-Tok did." [Illustration] "Then let's be careful," remarked Files, who was full of wisdom; but Polychrome wanted to test the quality of the rubber, so she began dancing. Every step sent her higher and higher into the air, so that she resembled a big butterfly fluttering lightly. Presently she made a great bound and bounded way across the stream, landing lightly and steadily on the other side. "There is no rubber over here," she called to them. "Suppose you all try to bound over the stream, without touching the stepping-stones." Ann and her officers were reluctant to undertake such a risky adventure, but Betsy at once grasped the value of the suggestion and began jumping up and down until she found herself bounding almost as high as Polychrome had done. Then she suddenly leaned forward and the next bound took her easily across the brook, where she alighted by the side of the Rainbow's Daughter. "Come on, Hank!" called the girl, and the donkey tried to obey. He managed to bound pretty high but when he tried to bound across the stream he misjudged the distance and fell with a splash into the middle of the water. "Hee-haw!" he wailed, struggling toward the far bank. Betsy rushed forward to help him out, but when the mule stood safely beside her she was amazed to find he was not wet at all. "It's dry water," said Polychrome, dipping her hand into the stream and showing how the water fell from it and left it perfectly dry. "In that case," returned Betsy, "they can all walk through the water." She called to Ozga and Shaggy to wade across, assuring them the water was shallow and would not wet them. At once they followed her advice, avoiding the rubber stepping-stones, and made the crossing with ease. This encouraged the entire party to wade through the dry water, and in a few minutes all had assembled on the bank and renewed their journey along the path that led to the Nome King's dominions. When Kaliko again looked through his magic spyglass he exclaimed: "Bad luck, Your Majesty! All the invaders have passed the Rubber Country and now are fast approaching the entrance to your caverns." Ruggedo raved and stormed at the news and his anger was so great that several times, as he strode up and down his jeweled cavern, he paused to kick Kaliko upon his shins, which were so sensitive that the poor nome howled with pain. Finally the King said: "There's no help for it; we must drop these audacious invaders down the Hollow Tube." Kaliko gave a jump, at this, and looked at his master wonderingly. "If you do that, Your Majesty," he said, "you will make Tititi-Hoochoo very angry." "Never mind that," retorted Ruggedo. "Tititi-Hoochoo lives on the other side of the world, so what do I care for his anger?" Kaliko shuddered and uttered a little groan. "Remember his terrible powers," he pleaded, "and remember that he warned you, the last time you slid people through the Hollow Tube, that if you did it again he would take vengeance upon you." The Metal Monarch walked up and down in silence, thinking deeply. "Of two dangers," said he, "it is wise to choose the least. What do you suppose these invaders want?" "Let the Long-Eared Hearer listen to them," suggested Kaliko. "Call him here at once!" commanded Ruggedo eagerly. So in a few minutes there entered the cavern a nome with enormous ears, who bowed low before the King. "Strangers are approaching," said Ruggedo, "and I wish to know their errand. Listen carefully to their talk and tell me why they are coming here, and what for." The nome bowed again and spread out his great ears, swaying them gently up and down and back and forth. For half an hour he stood silent, in an attitude of listening, while both the King and Kaliko grew impatient at the delay. At last the Long-Eared Hearer spoke: [Illustration] "Shaggy Man is coming here to rescue his brother from captivity," said he. "Ha, the Ugly One!" exclaimed Ruggedo. "Well, Shaggy Man may have his ugly brother, for all I care. He's too lazy to work and is always getting in my way. Where is the Ugly One now, Kaliko?" "The last time Your Majesty stumbled over the prisoner you commanded me to send him to the Metal Forest, which I did. I suppose he is still there." "Very good. The invaders will have a hard time finding the Metal Forest," said the King, with a grin of malicious delight, "for half the time I can't find it myself. Yet I created the forest and made every tree, out of gold and silver, so as to keep the precious metals in a safe place and out of the reach of mortals. But tell me, Hearer, do the strangers want anything else?" "Yes, indeed they do!" returned the nome. "The Army of Oogaboo is determined to capture all the rich metals and rare jewels in your kingdom, and the officers and their Queen have arranged to divide the spoils and carry them away." When he heard this Ruggedo uttered a bellow of rage and began dancing up and down, rolling his eyes, clicking his teeth together and swinging his arms furiously. Then, in an ecstasy of anger he seized the long ears of the Hearer and pulled and twisted them cruelly; but Kaliko grabbed up the King's sceptre and rapped him over the knuckles with it, so that Ruggedo let go the ears and began to chase his Royal Chamberlain around the throne. The Hearer took advantage of this opportunity to slip away from the cavern and escape, and after the King had tired himself out chasing Kaliko he threw himself into his throne and panted for breath, while he glared wickedly at his defiant subject. "You'd better save your strength to fight the enemy," suggested Kaliko. "There will be a terrible battle when the Army of Oogaboo gets here." "The Army won't get here," said the King, still coughing and panting. "I'll drop 'em down the Hollow Tube--every man Jack and every girl Jill of 'em!" "And defy Tititi-Hoochoo?" asked Kaliko. "Yes. Go at once to my Chief Magician and order him to turn the path toward the Hollow Tube, and to make the top of the Tube invisible, so they'll all fall into it." Kaliko went away shaking his head, for he thought Ruggedo was making a great mistake. He found the Magician and had the path twisted so that it led directly to the opening of the Hollow Tube, and this opening he made invisible. Having obeyed the orders of his master, the Royal Chamberlain went to his private room and began to write letters of recommendation of himself, stating that he was an honest man, a good servant and a small eater. "Pretty soon," he said to himself, "I shall have to look for another job, for it is certain that Ruggedo has ruined himself by this reckless defiance of the mighty Tititi-Hoochoo. And in seeking a job nothing is so effective as a letter of recommendation." [Illustration] [Illustration] CHAPTER 10 A Terrible Tumble Through a Tube I suppose that Polychrome, and perhaps Queen Ann and her Army, might have been able to dispel the enchantment of Ruggedo's Chief Magician had they known that danger lay in their pathway; for the Rainbow's Daughter was a fairy and as Oogaboo is a part of the Land of Oz its inhabitants cannot easily be deceived by such common magic as the Nome King could command. But no one suspected any especial danger until after they had entered Ruggedo's cavern, and so they were journeying along in quite a contented manner when Tik-Tok, who marched ahead, suddenly disappeared. The officers thought he must have turned a corner, so they kept on their way and all of them likewise disappeared--one after another. Queen Ann was rather surprised at this, and in hastening forward to learn the reason she also vanished from sight. Betsy Bobbin had tired her feet by walking, so she was now riding upon the back of the stout little mule, facing backward and talking to Shaggy and Polychrome, who were just behind. Suddenly Hank pitched forward and began falling and Betsy would have tumbled over his head had she not grabbed the mule's shaggy neck with both arms and held on for dear life. All around was darkness, and they were not falling directly downward but seemed to be sliding along a steep incline. Hank's hoofs were resting upon some smooth substance over which he slid with the swiftness of the wind. Once Betsy's heels flew up and struck a similar substance overhead. They were, indeed, descending the "Hollow Tube" that led to the other side of the world. "Stop, Hank--stop!" cried the girl; but Hank only uttered a plaintive "Hee-haw!" for it was impossible for him to obey. After several minutes had passed and no harm had befallen them, Betsy gained courage. She could see nothing at all, nor could she hear anything except the rush of air past her ears as they plunged downward along the Tube. Whether she and Hank were alone, or the others were with them, she could not tell. But had some one been able to take a flash-light photograph of the Tube at that time a most curious picture would have resulted. There was Tik-Tok, flat upon his back and sliding headforemost down the incline. And there were the Officers of the Army of Oogaboo, all tangled up in a confused crowd, flapping their arms and trying to shield their faces from the clanking swords, which swung back and forth during the swift journey and pommeled everyone within their reach. Now followed Queen Ann, who had struck the Tube in a sitting position and went flying along with a dash and abandon that thoroughly bewildered the poor lady, who had no idea what had happened to her. Then, a little distance away, but unseen by the others in the inky darkness, slid Betsy and Hank, while behind them were Shaggy and Polychrome and finally Files and the Princess. When first they tumbled into the Tube all were too dazed to think clearly, but the trip was a long one, because the cavity led straight through the earth to a place just opposite the Nome King's dominions, and long before the adventurers got to the end they had begun to recover their wits. "This is awful, Hank!" cried Betsy in a loud voice, and Queen Ann heard her and called out: "Are you safe, Betsy?" "Mercy, no!" answered the little girl. "How could anyone be safe when she's going about sixty miles a minute?" Then, after a pause, she added: "But where do you s'pose we're going to, Your Maj'sty?" "Don't ask her that, please don't!" said Shaggy, who was not too far away to overhear them. "And please don't ask me why, either." "Why?" said Betsy. "No one can tell where we are going until we get there," replied Shaggy, and then he yelled "Ouch!" for Polychrome had overtaken him and was now sitting on his head. The Rainbow's Daughter laughed merrily, and so infectious was this joyous laugh that Betsy echoed it and Hank said "Hee-haw!" in a mild and sympathetic tone of voice. "I'd like to know where and when we'll arrive, just the same," exclaimed the little girl. "Be patient and you'll find out, my dear," said Polychrome. "But isn't this an odd experience? Here am I, whose home is in the skies, making a journey through the center of the earth--where I never expected to be!" "How do you know we're in the center of the earth?" asked Betsy, her voice trembling a little through nervousness. "Why, we can't be anywhere else," replied Polychrome. "I have often heard of this passage, which was once built by a Magician who was a great traveler. He thought it would save him the bother of going around the earth's surface, but he tumbled through the Tube so fast that he shot out at the other end and hit a star in the sky, which at once exploded." "The star exploded?" asked Betsy wonderingly. "Yes; the Magician hit it so hard." "And what became of the Magician?" inquired the girl. "No one knows that," answered Polychrome. "But I don't think it matters much." "It matters a good deal, if we also hit the stars when we come out," said Queen Ann, with a moan. "Don't worry," advised Polychrome. "I believe the Magician was going the other way, and probably he went much faster than we are going." "It's fast enough to suit me," remarked Shaggy, gently removing Polychrome's heel from his left eye. "Couldn't you manage to fall all by yourself, my dear?" "I'll try," laughed the Rainbow's Daughter. All this time they were swiftly falling through the Tube, and it was not so easy for them to talk as you may imagine when you read their words. But although they were so helpless and altogether in the dark as to their fate, the fact that they were able to converse at all cheered them considerably. Files and Ozga were also conversing as they clung tightly to one another, and the young fellow bravely strove to reassure the Princess, although he was terribly frightened, both on her account and on his own. An hour, under such trying circumstances, is a very long time, and for more than an hour they continued their fearful journey. Then, just as they began to fear the Tube would never end, Tik-Tok popped out into broad daylight and, after making a graceful circle in the air, fell with a splash into a great marble fountain. Out came the officers, in quick succession, tumbling heels over head and striking the ground in many undignified attitudes. "For the love of sassafras!" exclaimed a Peculiar Person who was hoeing pink violets in a garden. "What can all this mean?" For answer, Queen Ann sailed up from the Tube, took a ride through the air as high as the treetops, and alighted squarely on top of the Peculiar Person's head, smashing a jeweled crown over his eyes and tumbling him to the ground. The mule was heavier and had Betsy clinging to his back, so he did not go so high up. Fortunately for his little rider he struck the ground upon his four feet. Betsy was jarred a trifle but not hurt and when she looked around her she saw the Queen and the Peculiar Person struggling together upon the ground, where the man was trying to choke Ann and she had both hands in his bushy hair and was pulling with all her might. Some of the officers, when they got upon their feet, hastened to separate the combatants and sought to restrain the Peculiar Person so that he could not attack their Queen again. [Illustration] By this time, Shaggy, Polychrome, Ozga and Files had all arrived and were curiously examining the strange country in which they found themselves and which they knew to be exactly on the opposite side of the world from the place where they had fallen into the Tube. It was a lovely place, indeed, and seemed to be the garden of some great Prince, for through the vistas of trees and shrubbery could be seen the towers of an immense castle. But as yet the only inhabitant to greet them was the Peculiar Person just mentioned, who had shaken off the grasp of the officers without effort and was now trying to pull the battered crown from off his eyes. Shaggy, who was always polite, helped him to do this and when the man was free and could see again he looked at his visitors with evident amazement. "Well, well, well!" he exclaimed. "Where did you come from and how did you get here?" Betsy tried to answer him, for Queen Ann was surly and silent. "I can't say, exac'ly where we came from, 'cause I don't know the name of the place," said the girl, "but the way we got here was through the Hollow Tube." "Don't call it a 'hollow' Tube, please," exclaimed the Peculiar Person in an irritated tone of voice. "If it's a tube, it's sure to be hollow." "Why?" asked Betsy. "Because all tubes are made that way. But this Tube is private property and everyone is forbidden to fall into it." "We didn't do it on purpose," explained Betsy, and Polychrome added: "I am quite sure that Ruggedo, the Nome King, pushed us down that Tube." "Ha! Ruggedo! Did you say Ruggedo?" cried the man, becoming much excited. "That is what she said," replied Shaggy, "and I believe she is right. We were on our way to conquer the Nome King when suddenly we fell into the Tube." "Then you are enemies of Ruggedo?" inquired the Peculiar Person. "Not exac'ly enemies," said Betsy, a little puzzled by the question, "'cause we don't know him at all; but we started out to conquer him, which isn't as friendly as it might be." "True," agreed the man. He looked thoughtfully from one to another of them for a while and then he turned his head over his shoulder and said: "Never mind the fire and pincers, my good brothers. It will be best to take these strangers to the Private Citizen." "Very well, Tubekins," responded a Voice, deep and powerful, that seemed to come out of the air, for the speaker was invisible. All our friends gave a jump, at this. Even Polychrome was so startled that her gauze draperies fluttered like a banner in a breeze. Shaggy shook his head and sighed; Queen Ann looked very unhappy; the officers clung to each other, trembling violently. But soon they gained courage to look more closely at the Peculiar Person. As he was a type of all the inhabitants of this extraordinary land whom they afterward met, I will try to tell you what he looked like. His face was beautiful, but lacked expression. His eyes were large and blue in color and his teeth finely formed and white as snow. His hair was black and bushy and seemed inclined to curl at the ends. So far no one could find any fault with his appearance. He wore a robe of scarlet, which did not cover his arms and extended no lower than his bare knees. On the bosom of the robe was embroidered a terrible dragon's head, as horrible to look at as the man was beautiful. His arms and legs were left bare and the skin of one arm was bright yellow and the skin of the other arm a vivid green. He had one blue leg and one pink one, while both his feet--which showed through the open sandals he wore--were jet black. Betsy could not decide whether these gorgeous colors were dyes or the natural tints of the skin, but while she was thinking it over the man who had been called "Tubekins" said: "Follow me to the Residence--all of you!" But just then a Voice exclaimed: "Here's another of them, Tubekins, lying in the water of the fountain." [Illustration] "Gracious!" cried Betsy; "it must be Tik-Tok, and he'll drown." "Water is a bad thing for his clockworks, anyhow," agreed Shaggy, as with one accord they all started for the fountain. But before they could reach it, invisible hands raised Tik-Tok from the marble basin and set him upon his feet beside it, water dripping from every joint of his copper body. "Ma--ny tha--tha--tha--thanks!" he said; and then his copper jaws clicked together and he could say no more. He next made an attempt to walk but after several awkward trials found he could not move his joints. Peals of jeering laughter from persons unseen greeted Tik-Tok's failure, and the new arrivals in this strange land found it very uncomfortable to realize that there were many creatures around them who were invisible, yet could be heard plainly. "Shall I wind him up?" asked Betsy, feeling very sorry for Tik-Tok. "I think his machinery is wound; but he needs oiling," replied Shaggy. At once an oil-can appeared before him, held on a level with his eyes by some unseen hand.

me_--at

How many times the word 'me_--at' appears in the text?

to ask the important question. She dropped to her knees, facing the flowers, and extended both her arms pleadingly toward them. "Tell me, pretty cousins," she said in her sweet, gentle voice, "which way will lead us to the Kingdom of Ruggedo, the Nome King?" At once all the stems bent gracefully to the right and the flower heads nodded once--twice--thrice in that direction. "That's it!" cried Files joyfully. "Now we know the way." Ozga rose to her feet and looked wonderingly at the field-flowers, which had now resumed their upright position. "Was it the wind, do you think?" she asked in a low whisper. "No, indeed," replied Files. "There is not a breath of wind stirring. But these lovely blossoms are indeed your cousins and answered your question at once, as I knew they would." [Illustration] CHAPTER 9 Ruggedo's Rage is Rash and Reckless The way taken by the adventurers led up hill and down dale and wound here and there in a fashion that seemed aimless. But always it drew nearer to a range of low mountains and Files said more than once that he was certain the entrance to Ruggedo's cavern would be found among these rugged hills. In this he was quite correct. Far underneath the nearest mountain was a gorgeous chamber hollowed from the solid rock, the walls and roof of which glittered with thousands of magnificent jewels. Here, on a throne of virgin gold, sat the famous Nome King, dressed in splendid robes and wearing a superb crown cut from a single blood-red ruby. Ruggedo, the Monarch of all the Metals and Precious Stones of the Underground World, was a round little man with a flowing white beard, a red face, bright eyes and a scowl that covered all his forehead. One would think, to look at him, that he ought to be jolly; one might think, considering his enormous wealth, that he ought to be happy; but this was not the case. The Metal Monarch was surly and cross because mortals had dug so much treasure out of the earth and kept it above ground, where all the power of Ruggedo and his nomes was unable to recover it. He hated not only the mortals but also the fairies who live upon the earth or above it, and instead of being content with the riches he still possessed he was unhappy because he did not own all the gold and jewels in the world. Ruggedo had been nodding, half asleep, in his chair when suddenly he sat upright uttered a roar of rage and began pounding upon a huge gong that stood beside him. The sound filled the vast cavern and penetrated to many caverns beyond, where countless thousands of nomes were working at their unending tasks, hammering out gold and silver and other metals, or melting ores in great furnaces, or polishing glittering gems. The nomes trembled at the sound of the King's gong and whispered fearfully to one another that something unpleasant was sure to happen; but none dared pause in his task. The heavy curtains of cloth-of-gold were pushed aside and Kaliko, the King's High Chamberlain, entered the royal presence. "What's up, Your Majesty?" he asked, with a wide yawn, for he had just wakened. "Up?" roared Ruggedo, stamping his foot viciously. "Those foolish mortals are up, that's what! And they want to come down." "Down here?" inquired Kaliko. "Yes!" "How do you know?" continued the Chamberlain, yawning again. "I feel it in my bones," said Ruggedo. "I can always feel it when those hateful earth-crawlers draw near to my Kingdom. I am positive, Kaliko, that mortals are this very minute on their way here to annoy me--and I hate mortals more than I do catnip tea!" "Well, what's to be done?" demanded the nome. "Look through your spyglass, and see where the invaders are," commanded the King. So Kaliko went to a tube in the wall of rock and put his eye to it. The tube ran from the cavern up to the side of the mountain and turned several curves and corners, but as it was a magic spyglass Kaliko was able to see through it just as easily as if it had been straight. "Ho--hum," said he. "I see 'em, Your Majesty." "What do they look like?" inquired the Monarch. "That's a hard question to answer, for a queerer assortment of creatures I never yet beheld," replied the nome. "However, such a collection of curiosities may prove dangerous. There's a copper man, worked by machinery--" "Bah! that's only Tik-Tok," said Ruggedo. "I'm not afraid of him. Why, only the other day I met the fellow and threw him down a well." "Then some one must have pulled him out again," said Kaliko. "And there's a little girl--" "Dorothy?" asked Ruggedo, jumping up in fear. "No; some other girl. In fact, there are several girls, of various sizes; but Dorothy is not with them, nor is Ozma." "That's good!" exclaimed the King, sighing in relief. Kaliko still had his eye to the spyglass. "I see," said he, "an army of men from Oogaboo. They are all officers and carry swords. And there is a Shaggy Man--who seems very harmless--and a little donkey with big ears." "Pooh!" cried Ruggedo, snapping his fingers in scorn. "I've no fear of such a mob as that. A dozen of my nomes can destroy them all in a jiffy." "I'm not so sure of that," said Kaliko. "The people of Oogaboo are hard to destroy, and I believe the Rose Princess is a fairy. As for Polychrome, you know very well that the Rainbow's Daughter cannot be injured by a nome." "Polychrome! Is she among them?" asked the King. "Yes; I have just recognized her." "Then these people are coming here on no peaceful errand," declared Ruggedo, scowling fiercely. "In fact, no one ever comes here on a peaceful errand. I hate everybody, and everybody hates me!" "Very true," said Kaliko. "I must in some way prevent these people from reaching my dominions. Where are they now?" "Just now they are crossing the Rubber Country, Your Majesty." "Good! Are your magnetic rubber wires in working order?" "I think so," replied Kaliko. "Is it your Royal Will that we have some fun with these invaders?" "It is," answered Ruggedo. "I want to teach them a lesson they will never forget." Now, Shaggy had no idea that he was in a Rubber Country, nor had any of his companions. They noticed that everything around them was of a dull gray color and that the path upon which they walked was soft and springy, yet they had no suspicion that the rocks and trees were rubber and even the path they trod was made of rubber. Presently they came to a brook where sparkling water dashed through a deep channel and rushed away between high rocks far down the mountain-side. Across the brook were stepping-stones, so placed that travelers might easily leap from one to another and in that manner cross the water to the farther bank. Tik-Tok was marching ahead, followed by his officers and Queen Ann. After them came Betsy Bobbin and Hank, Polychrome and Shaggy, and last of all the Rose Princess with Files. The Clockwork Man saw the stream and the stepping-stones and, without making a pause, placed his foot upon the first stone. The result was astonishing. First he sank down in the soft rubber, which then rebounded and sent Tik-Tok soaring high in the air, where he turned a succession of flip-flops and alighted upon a rubber rock far in the rear of the party. General Apple did not see Tik-Tok bound, so quickly had he disappeared; therefore he also stepped upon the stone (which you will guess was connected with Kaliko's magnetic rubber wire) and instantly shot upward like an arrow. General Cone came next and met with a like fate, but the others now noticed that something was wrong and with one accord they halted the column and looked back along the path. There was Tik-Tok, still bounding from one rubber rock to another, each time rising a less distance from the ground. And there was General Apple, bounding away in another direction, his three-cornered hat jammed over his eyes and his long sword thumping him upon the arms and head as it swung this way and that. And there, also, appeared General Cone, who had struck a rubber rock headforemost and was so crumpled up that his round body looked more like a bouncing-ball than the form of a man. Betsy laughed merrily at the strange sight and Polychrome echoed her laughter. But Ozga was grave and wondering, while Queen Ann became angry at seeing the chief officers of the Army of Oogaboo bounding around in so undignified a manner. She shouted to them to stop, but they were unable to obey, even though they would have been glad to do so. Finally, however, they all ceased bounding and managed to get upon their feet and rejoin the Army. "Why did you do that?" demanded Ann, who seemed greatly provoked. "Don't ask them why," said Shaggy earnestly. "I knew you would ask them why, but you ought not to do it. The reason is plain. Those stones are rubber; therefore they are not stones. Those rocks around us are rubber, and therefore they are not rocks. Even this path is not a path; it's rubber. Unless we are very careful, your Majesty, we are all likely to get the bounce, just as your poor officers and Tik-Tok did." [Illustration] "Then let's be careful," remarked Files, who was full of wisdom; but Polychrome wanted to test the quality of the rubber, so she began dancing. Every step sent her higher and higher into the air, so that she resembled a big butterfly fluttering lightly. Presently she made a great bound and bounded way across the stream, landing lightly and steadily on the other side. "There is no rubber over here," she called to them. "Suppose you all try to bound over the stream, without touching the stepping-stones." Ann and her officers were reluctant to undertake such a risky adventure, but Betsy at once grasped the value of the suggestion and began jumping up and down until she found herself bounding almost as high as Polychrome had done. Then she suddenly leaned forward and the next bound took her easily across the brook, where she alighted by the side of the Rainbow's Daughter. "Come on, Hank!" called the girl, and the donkey tried to obey. He managed to bound pretty high but when he tried to bound across the stream he misjudged the distance and fell with a splash into the middle of the water. "Hee-haw!" he wailed, struggling toward the far bank. Betsy rushed forward to help him out, but when the mule stood safely beside her she was amazed to find he was not wet at all. "It's dry water," said Polychrome, dipping her hand into the stream and showing how the water fell from it and left it perfectly dry. "In that case," returned Betsy, "they can all walk through the water." She called to Ozga and Shaggy to wade across, assuring them the water was shallow and would not wet them. At once they followed her advice, avoiding the rubber stepping-stones, and made the crossing with ease. This encouraged the entire party to wade through the dry water, and in a few minutes all had assembled on the bank and renewed their journey along the path that led to the Nome King's dominions. When Kaliko again looked through his magic spyglass he exclaimed: "Bad luck, Your Majesty! All the invaders have passed the Rubber Country and now are fast approaching the entrance to your caverns." Ruggedo raved and stormed at the news and his anger was so great that several times, as he strode up and down his jeweled cavern, he paused to kick Kaliko upon his shins, which were so sensitive that the poor nome howled with pain. Finally the King said: "There's no help for it; we must drop these audacious invaders down the Hollow Tube." Kaliko gave a jump, at this, and looked at his master wonderingly. "If you do that, Your Majesty," he said, "you will make Tititi-Hoochoo very angry." "Never mind that," retorted Ruggedo. "Tititi-Hoochoo lives on the other side of the world, so what do I care for his anger?" Kaliko shuddered and uttered a little groan. "Remember his terrible powers," he pleaded, "and remember that he warned you, the last time you slid people through the Hollow Tube, that if you did it again he would take vengeance upon you." The Metal Monarch walked up and down in silence, thinking deeply. "Of two dangers," said he, "it is wise to choose the least. What do you suppose these invaders want?" "Let the Long-Eared Hearer listen to them," suggested Kaliko. "Call him here at once!" commanded Ruggedo eagerly. So in a few minutes there entered the cavern a nome with enormous ears, who bowed low before the King. "Strangers are approaching," said Ruggedo, "and I wish to know their errand. Listen carefully to their talk and tell me why they are coming here, and what for." The nome bowed again and spread out his great ears, swaying them gently up and down and back and forth. For half an hour he stood silent, in an attitude of listening, while both the King and Kaliko grew impatient at the delay. At last the Long-Eared Hearer spoke: [Illustration] "Shaggy Man is coming here to rescue his brother from captivity," said he. "Ha, the Ugly One!" exclaimed Ruggedo. "Well, Shaggy Man may have his ugly brother, for all I care. He's too lazy to work and is always getting in my way. Where is the Ugly One now, Kaliko?" "The last time Your Majesty stumbled over the prisoner you commanded me to send him to the Metal Forest, which I did. I suppose he is still there." "Very good. The invaders will have a hard time finding the Metal Forest," said the King, with a grin of malicious delight, "for half the time I can't find it myself. Yet I created the forest and made every tree, out of gold and silver, so as to keep the precious metals in a safe place and out of the reach of mortals. But tell me, Hearer, do the strangers want anything else?" "Yes, indeed they do!" returned the nome. "The Army of Oogaboo is determined to capture all the rich metals and rare jewels in your kingdom, and the officers and their Queen have arranged to divide the spoils and carry them away." When he heard this Ruggedo uttered a bellow of rage and began dancing up and down, rolling his eyes, clicking his teeth together and swinging his arms furiously. Then, in an ecstasy of anger he seized the long ears of the Hearer and pulled and twisted them cruelly; but Kaliko grabbed up the King's sceptre and rapped him over the knuckles with it, so that Ruggedo let go the ears and began to chase his Royal Chamberlain around the throne. The Hearer took advantage of this opportunity to slip away from the cavern and escape, and after the King had tired himself out chasing Kaliko he threw himself into his throne and panted for breath, while he glared wickedly at his defiant subject. "You'd better save your strength to fight the enemy," suggested Kaliko. "There will be a terrible battle when the Army of Oogaboo gets here." "The Army won't get here," said the King, still coughing and panting. "I'll drop 'em down the Hollow Tube--every man Jack and every girl Jill of 'em!" "And defy Tititi-Hoochoo?" asked Kaliko. "Yes. Go at once to my Chief Magician and order him to turn the path toward the Hollow Tube, and to make the top of the Tube invisible, so they'll all fall into it." Kaliko went away shaking his head, for he thought Ruggedo was making a great mistake. He found the Magician and had the path twisted so that it led directly to the opening of the Hollow Tube, and this opening he made invisible. Having obeyed the orders of his master, the Royal Chamberlain went to his private room and began to write letters of recommendation of himself, stating that he was an honest man, a good servant and a small eater. "Pretty soon," he said to himself, "I shall have to look for another job, for it is certain that Ruggedo has ruined himself by this reckless defiance of the mighty Tititi-Hoochoo. And in seeking a job nothing is so effective as a letter of recommendation." [Illustration] [Illustration] CHAPTER 10 A Terrible Tumble Through a Tube I suppose that Polychrome, and perhaps Queen Ann and her Army, might have been able to dispel the enchantment of Ruggedo's Chief Magician had they known that danger lay in their pathway; for the Rainbow's Daughter was a fairy and as Oogaboo is a part of the Land of Oz its inhabitants cannot easily be deceived by such common magic as the Nome King could command. But no one suspected any especial danger until after they had entered Ruggedo's cavern, and so they were journeying along in quite a contented manner when Tik-Tok, who marched ahead, suddenly disappeared. The officers thought he must have turned a corner, so they kept on their way and all of them likewise disappeared--one after another. Queen Ann was rather surprised at this, and in hastening forward to learn the reason she also vanished from sight. Betsy Bobbin had tired her feet by walking, so she was now riding upon the back of the stout little mule, facing backward and talking to Shaggy and Polychrome, who were just behind. Suddenly Hank pitched forward and began falling and Betsy would have tumbled over his head had she not grabbed the mule's shaggy neck with both arms and held on for dear life. All around was darkness, and they were not falling directly downward but seemed to be sliding along a steep incline. Hank's hoofs were resting upon some smooth substance over which he slid with the swiftness of the wind. Once Betsy's heels flew up and struck a similar substance overhead. They were, indeed, descending the "Hollow Tube" that led to the other side of the world. "Stop, Hank--stop!" cried the girl; but Hank only uttered a plaintive "Hee-haw!" for it was impossible for him to obey. After several minutes had passed and no harm had befallen them, Betsy gained courage. She could see nothing at all, nor could she hear anything except the rush of air past her ears as they plunged downward along the Tube. Whether she and Hank were alone, or the others were with them, she could not tell. But had some one been able to take a flash-light photograph of the Tube at that time a most curious picture would have resulted. There was Tik-Tok, flat upon his back and sliding headforemost down the incline. And there were the Officers of the Army of Oogaboo, all tangled up in a confused crowd, flapping their arms and trying to shield their faces from the clanking swords, which swung back and forth during the swift journey and pommeled everyone within their reach. Now followed Queen Ann, who had struck the Tube in a sitting position and went flying along with a dash and abandon that thoroughly bewildered the poor lady, who had no idea what had happened to her. Then, a little distance away, but unseen by the others in the inky darkness, slid Betsy and Hank, while behind them were Shaggy and Polychrome and finally Files and the Princess. When first they tumbled into the Tube all were too dazed to think clearly, but the trip was a long one, because the cavity led straight through the earth to a place just opposite the Nome King's dominions, and long before the adventurers got to the end they had begun to recover their wits. "This is awful, Hank!" cried Betsy in a loud voice, and Queen Ann heard her and called out: "Are you safe, Betsy?" "Mercy, no!" answered the little girl. "How could anyone be safe when she's going about sixty miles a minute?" Then, after a pause, she added: "But where do you s'pose we're going to, Your Maj'sty?" "Don't ask her that, please don't!" said Shaggy, who was not too far away to overhear them. "And please don't ask me why, either." "Why?" said Betsy. "No one can tell where we are going until we get there," replied Shaggy, and then he yelled "Ouch!" for Polychrome had overtaken him and was now sitting on his head. The Rainbow's Daughter laughed merrily, and so infectious was this joyous laugh that Betsy echoed it and Hank said "Hee-haw!" in a mild and sympathetic tone of voice. "I'd like to know where and when we'll arrive, just the same," exclaimed the little girl. "Be patient and you'll find out, my dear," said Polychrome. "But isn't this an odd experience? Here am I, whose home is in the skies, making a journey through the center of the earth--where I never expected to be!" "How do you know we're in the center of the earth?" asked Betsy, her voice trembling a little through nervousness. "Why, we can't be anywhere else," replied Polychrome. "I have often heard of this passage, which was once built by a Magician who was a great traveler. He thought it would save him the bother of going around the earth's surface, but he tumbled through the Tube so fast that he shot out at the other end and hit a star in the sky, which at once exploded." "The star exploded?" asked Betsy wonderingly. "Yes; the Magician hit it so hard." "And what became of the Magician?" inquired the girl. "No one knows that," answered Polychrome. "But I don't think it matters much." "It matters a good deal, if we also hit the stars when we come out," said Queen Ann, with a moan. "Don't worry," advised Polychrome. "I believe the Magician was going the other way, and probably he went much faster than we are going." "It's fast enough to suit me," remarked Shaggy, gently removing Polychrome's heel from his left eye. "Couldn't you manage to fall all by yourself, my dear?" "I'll try," laughed the Rainbow's Daughter. All this time they were swiftly falling through the Tube, and it was not so easy for them to talk as you may imagine when you read their words. But although they were so helpless and altogether in the dark as to their fate, the fact that they were able to converse at all cheered them considerably. Files and Ozga were also conversing as they clung tightly to one another, and the young fellow bravely strove to reassure the Princess, although he was terribly frightened, both on her account and on his own. An hour, under such trying circumstances, is a very long time, and for more than an hour they continued their fearful journey. Then, just as they began to fear the Tube would never end, Tik-Tok popped out into broad daylight and, after making a graceful circle in the air, fell with a splash into a great marble fountain. Out came the officers, in quick succession, tumbling heels over head and striking the ground in many undignified attitudes. "For the love of sassafras!" exclaimed a Peculiar Person who was hoeing pink violets in a garden. "What can all this mean?" For answer, Queen Ann sailed up from the Tube, took a ride through the air as high as the treetops, and alighted squarely on top of the Peculiar Person's head, smashing a jeweled crown over his eyes and tumbling him to the ground. The mule was heavier and had Betsy clinging to his back, so he did not go so high up. Fortunately for his little rider he struck the ground upon his four feet. Betsy was jarred a trifle but not hurt and when she looked around her she saw the Queen and the Peculiar Person struggling together upon the ground, where the man was trying to choke Ann and she had both hands in his bushy hair and was pulling with all her might. Some of the officers, when they got upon their feet, hastened to separate the combatants and sought to restrain the Peculiar Person so that he could not attack their Queen again. [Illustration] By this time, Shaggy, Polychrome, Ozga and Files had all arrived and were curiously examining the strange country in which they found themselves and which they knew to be exactly on the opposite side of the world from the place where they had fallen into the Tube. It was a lovely place, indeed, and seemed to be the garden of some great Prince, for through the vistas of trees and shrubbery could be seen the towers of an immense castle. But as yet the only inhabitant to greet them was the Peculiar Person just mentioned, who had shaken off the grasp of the officers without effort and was now trying to pull the battered crown from off his eyes. Shaggy, who was always polite, helped him to do this and when the man was free and could see again he looked at his visitors with evident amazement. "Well, well, well!" he exclaimed. "Where did you come from and how did you get here?" Betsy tried to answer him, for Queen Ann was surly and silent. "I can't say, exac'ly where we came from, 'cause I don't know the name of the place," said the girl, "but the way we got here was through the Hollow Tube." "Don't call it a 'hollow' Tube, please," exclaimed the Peculiar Person in an irritated tone of voice. "If it's a tube, it's sure to be hollow." "Why?" asked Betsy. "Because all tubes are made that way. But this Tube is private property and everyone is forbidden to fall into it." "We didn't do it on purpose," explained Betsy, and Polychrome added: "I am quite sure that Ruggedo, the Nome King, pushed us down that Tube." "Ha! Ruggedo! Did you say Ruggedo?" cried the man, becoming much excited. "That is what she said," replied Shaggy, "and I believe she is right. We were on our way to conquer the Nome King when suddenly we fell into the Tube." "Then you are enemies of Ruggedo?" inquired the Peculiar Person. "Not exac'ly enemies," said Betsy, a little puzzled by the question, "'cause we don't know him at all; but we started out to conquer him, which isn't as friendly as it might be." "True," agreed the man. He looked thoughtfully from one to another of them for a while and then he turned his head over his shoulder and said: "Never mind the fire and pincers, my good brothers. It will be best to take these strangers to the Private Citizen." "Very well, Tubekins," responded a Voice, deep and powerful, that seemed to come out of the air, for the speaker was invisible. All our friends gave a jump, at this. Even Polychrome was so startled that her gauze draperies fluttered like a banner in a breeze. Shaggy shook his head and sighed; Queen Ann looked very unhappy; the officers clung to each other, trembling violently. But soon they gained courage to look more closely at the Peculiar Person. As he was a type of all the inhabitants of this extraordinary land whom they afterward met, I will try to tell you what he looked like. His face was beautiful, but lacked expression. His eyes were large and blue in color and his teeth finely formed and white as snow. His hair was black and bushy and seemed inclined to curl at the ends. So far no one could find any fault with his appearance. He wore a robe of scarlet, which did not cover his arms and extended no lower than his bare knees. On the bosom of the robe was embroidered a terrible dragon's head, as horrible to look at as the man was beautiful. His arms and legs were left bare and the skin of one arm was bright yellow and the skin of the other arm a vivid green. He had one blue leg and one pink one, while both his feet--which showed through the open sandals he wore--were jet black. Betsy could not decide whether these gorgeous colors were dyes or the natural tints of the skin, but while she was thinking it over the man who had been called "Tubekins" said: "Follow me to the Residence--all of you!" But just then a Voice exclaimed: "Here's another of them, Tubekins, lying in the water of the fountain." [Illustration] "Gracious!" cried Betsy; "it must be Tik-Tok, and he'll drown." "Water is a bad thing for his clockworks, anyhow," agreed Shaggy, as with one accord they all started for the fountain. But before they could reach it, invisible hands raised Tik-Tok from the marble basin and set him upon his feet beside it, water dripping from every joint of his copper body. "Ma--ny tha--tha--tha--thanks!" he said; and then his copper jaws clicked together and he could say no more. He next made an attempt to walk but after several awkward trials found he could not move his joints. Peals of jeering laughter from persons unseen greeted Tik-Tok's failure, and the new arrivals in this strange land found it very uncomfortable to realize that there were many creatures around them who were invisible, yet could be heard plainly. "Shall I wind him up?" asked Betsy, feeling very sorry for Tik-Tok. "I think his machinery is wound; but he needs oiling," replied Shaggy. At once an oil-can appeared before him, held on a level with his eyes by some unseen hand.

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