THE next day, Torrini continued his narration, without awaiting any request from me:

On arriving at Constantinople, we enjoyed for some time a delicious rest, whose charm was heightened by all the intoxication of the honeymoon. At the end of the month, however, I thought our mutual happiness ought not to prevent me trying to realize the plan I had formed of performing in the presence of Selim III.; but, before asking this favor, I thought of giving some performances in the town. However great my reputation might be in Italy, it was hardly probable that my name had crossed the Mediterranean: hence I had a new reputation to achieve.

I had a theatre erected, in which my success continued: crowds came to see me, and the highest personages were my constant visitors. I may be permitted to boast of this success, my lad, for the Turks, naturally indolent and phlegmatic, when utterly astounded by the sight I offered them, reminded me, by their enthusiasm, of my excitable Italian spectators.

The grand vizier himself came to one of my performances. He spoke about it to his sovereign, and excited his curiosity to such a degree, that I received an invitation, or rather a command, to court. I proceeded, in all haste, to the palace, where the apartment was shown me in which the performance would take place. A body of workmen was placed at my orders, and I was allowed all latitude for my theatrical arrangements. Only one stipulation was made: the stage must be exactly in front of a gilded lattice, behind which, I was told, the Sultan’s wives would be seated.

Within two days, my theatre was erected and completely decorated. It represented a garden, filled with natural flowers, whose lively colors and fragrant scent delighted both sight and smell. At the rear, and in the midst of dense foliage, a fountain fell back, in thousands of drops, into a crystal basin, sparkling like diamonds in the brilliant light, while, at the same time, the falling water deliciously cooled the air. Lastly, to my right and left, hedges of flowers served as side scenes and laboratory, while the buffet, loaded with my brilliant apparatus, was erected in the centre of this Garden of Armida.

When all was ready, the Sultan and his numerous suite took the places assigned to them, according to their court precedence. The Sultan reclined on a sofa, with the grand vizier by his side, while an interpreter, keeping respectfully in the rear, translated my remarks to him. When the curtain rose, a shower of rose-leaves fell on the stage, and formed an odoriferous and deliciously soft carpet. I then appeared, dressed in a rich Louis XV. costume.

I will spare you the account of my tricks, with the exception of one, which, like the “broken watch,” was the inspiration of the moment. I must add, that my spectators had been already considerably startled when I performed it.

Addressing Selim in the grave and solemn tone proper to a magician, I said:

“Noble Sultan, I am about to proceed from simple tricks of skill to the sublime science of magic: but, in order that my incantations may succeed, I must address myself directly to your august highness. Will you be pleased to lend me this ornament which I require?”

And I pointed to a splendid necklace of pearls which adorned his neck. The Sultan handed it to me, and I placed it in the hands of Antonio, who was helping me, in a page’s costume.

“It is well known,” I continued, “that magicians possess unlimited powers, for they hold in subjection familiar spirits, who blindly obey their masters’ orders. Let these spirits, then, prepare to obey me, for I am about to summon them.”

Here I majestically traced a circle round me with my wand, and pronounced, in a low voice, certain magic spells. Then I turned to my page, to take the collar from him, but it had disappeared. In vain I asked Antonio for it: his only reply was a hoarse and sarcastic laugh, as if he were possessed by one of the spirits I had summoned.

“Mighty prince,” I then said to the Sultan, “believe me when I say that, far from sharing in this audacious theft, I am forced to confess myself the victim of a plot I did not at all foresee. But your highness may be reassured: we possess means of forcing our subordinates to return to their duty. These means are as powerful as they are terrible, and I will offer you an example.”

At my summons two slaves brought in a long and narrow chest, and a trestle for saving wood. Antonio seemed to be terribly alarmed, but I coldly ordered the slaves to seize him, place him in the chest, the cover of which was immediately nailed down, and lay it across the trestle. Then, taking up a saw, I prepared to cut the chest asunder, when piercing cries were heard from behind the gilt lattice—the Sultan’s wives were protesting against my barbarity. I stopped a moment to give them time to recover; but so soon as I set to work again, new protestations, in which I distinguished threats, compelled me to suspend my operations.

Not knowing if I might be allowed to address the gilt lattice, I determined to reassure these sympathizing ladies indirectly.

“Gentlemen,” I said to my numerous audience, “have no fears, I beg, for the culprit; instead of feeling any pain, I assure you he will experience the most delightful sensations.”

It was evident that my statement was believed, for silence was restored, and I could continue my experiment. The chest was at length divided into two parts; I raised them so that each represented a pedestal; I then placed them side by side, and covered them with an enormous wicker cone, over which I threw a large black cloth, on which cabalistic signs were embroidered in silver. This duly performed, I recommenced my little farce of magic circles and bombastic words; when suddenly the deep silence was interrupted by two voices performing an exquisite duet beneath the black cloth.

During this time Bengal lights were kindled all around as if by enchantment. At length the fires and the voices having gradually died away, a noise was heard, the cone and the cloth were upset, and—— All the spectators uttered a cry of surprise and admiration: for two pages, exactly alike, appeared on the pedestals, holding a silver salver, on which lay the collar of pearls. My two Antonios walked up to the Sultan, and respectfully offered him his rich ornament.

The whole audience had risen as if to give more effect to the applause bestowed on me; the Sultan himself thanked me in his own language, which I did not understand, but I fancied I read in his face an expression of deep satisfaction. The next day an officer of the palace came to compliment me on behalf of his master, and offered me the collar which had been so cleverly juggled away the previous evening.

The trick of the two pages, as I called it, was one of the best I ever performed, and yet it was probably one of the most simple. Of course you understand, my dear boy, that Antonio disposed of the collar while I distracted public attention by my incantations. You also understand that, while he was being nailed up in the chest, he escaped through an opening corresponding with a trap in the stage; hence I had only to cut through planks. Lastly, by the aid of the cone and the cloth, Antonio and his sister, dressed precisely alike, came up through the trap and took their places on the pedestals. The mise en scÈne, and the coolness of the performers, did the rest.

This trick created great excitement in the city; the story, passing from mouth to mouth; soon attained the proportions of a miracle, and contributed much to the success of my remaining performances.

I might have realized a large fortune by making a tour through the Turkish provinces, but I was mortally tired of the peaceful life I was leading, and I felt the need of changing my ground and seeking fresh excitement. Besides, I began to feel a degree of nostalgia, and as my wife begged me to return to Italy, or some other Christian country, as she did not wish our first-born to come into the world among Pagans, we set out for France.

It was my intention to proceed to Paris, but, on arriving at Marseilles, I read in the papers the advertisements of a conjurer of the name of Olivier. His programme contained the whole of Pinetti’s tricks, which was almost my own. Which of the two was the plagiarist? I have reason to believe it was Olivier. At any rate, having no desire to engage in a new passage of arms, I evacuated the town.

It is impossible for me, my friend, to describe to you my itinerary during sixteen years; suffice it to say, I traversed the whole of Europe, stopping, of preference, in the chief towns. For a long time my reputation remained at its zenith, but suddenly, like Pinetti, I was destined to experience the inconstancy of Fortune.

One fine day I found my star beginning to pale; the public did not flock so eagerly to my performances. I no longer heard the bravos that used to greet my appearance on the stage, and the spectators appeared to me indifferent. How was this? What could be the cause of this capricious change? My repertoire was still the same: it was my Italian one, of which I was so proud, and for which I had made such sacrifices; I had introduced no change; the tricks I submitted to the public were the same which had been so warmly accepted. I felt, too, that I had lost none of my vigor, skill, or spirit.

Precisely because I had made no change, the public had begun to grow indifferent; as an author has observed, very justly, “the artist who does not rise, descends;” and this was peculiarly applicable to my position: while civilization had been progressing, I remained stationary—hence, I was going down.

When this truth struck me, I made a complete reform in my programme. The card tricks no longer possessing the charm of novelty, as the meanest jugglers could do them, were nearly all suppressed, and I substituted other experiments.

The public like, and run after, touching scenes; I invented one, which, in this respect, would certainly satisfy them, and draw them back to me. But why did Heaven allow me to succeed? why did my brain conceive this fatal idea? (Torrini exclaimed, raising his hands to heaven, and his eyes filling with tears.) Had it not been so, I should still have my son, and should not have lost my Antonia!

It was some time before Torrini could continue his narrative, for these terrible reminiscences caused him mental torture. At length, after holding his hand over his eyes for some time, as if trying to concentrate himself in his grief, he continued:

About two years ago I was at Strasburg; I was performing at the theatre, and every one was anxious to see my touching scene, which I had named “The Son of William Tell.” My son Giovanni played the part of Walter, the son of the Swiss hero, but, instead of placing the apple on his head, he held it between his teeth. On a given signal, a spectator armed with a pistol, fired at Giovanni, and the ball lodged in the heart of the fruit.

Owing to the success of this trick, my money-box was soon filled again. This restored my confidence in the future, and, far from profiting by the lessons of adversity, I reassumed my luxurious habits, as I fancied I had again pinioned Fortune, and she could not slip from me.

This illusion was fearfully dispelled.

“The Son of William Tell,” of which I had made a separate act, usually terminated the performance. We were about to execute it for the thirtieth time, and I had ordered the curtain to be dropped in order to have the stage arranged as the public square of Altorf, but all at once my son, who had just put on the traditional Helvetic costume, came to me, complaining of a sudden indisposition, and begging me to hurry on the performance. I had just seized the bell-rope to warn the carpenters to raise the curtain, when my son fell down in a fainting fit.

Without caring for the impatience of the public, we paid all attention to my poor Giovanni, and I bore him to a window. The fresh air soon restored him—still, there was a mortal pallor on his face, which would prevent his appearance in public. I was myself assailed by a strange presentiment, which urged me to stop the performance, and I resolved to announce it to the public.

The curtain was drawn up, and, with features contracted by anxiety, I walked to the footlights, Giovanni even paler than myself, and scarce able to stand, being at my side. I briefly explained the accident that had happened, rendering it impossible to perform the final experiment, and offered to return the entrance money to any who might feel dissatisfied. But at these words, which might excite great confusion and grave abuses, my courageous son, making a supreme effort, stated that he felt better, and able to perform his share in the trick, which, after all, was passive, and not at all fatiguing.

The public received this intimation with lively applause, and I, the insensate and barbarous father, taking no heed of the warning that heaven had sent me, had the cruelty, the madness, to accept this generous act of devotion. Only one word was needed to prevent ruin, dishonor, and death, yet that word died away on my lips! Listening solely to the noisy applause of the audience, I allowed the performance to commence.

I have already stated the nature of the trick that attracted the whole town; it consisted in substituting one ball for another. A chemist had taught me how to make a metallic composition bearing an extraordinary resemblance to lead. I had made balls of it which, when placed by the side of the real ones, could not be detected. The only precaution necessary was not to press them too hard, as they were of a very friable nature; but for the same reason, when inserted in the pistol, they fell into an impalpable powder, and did not go further than the wad.

Till now I had never dreamed of any danger in the performance of this trick, and, indeed, I had taken all possible precautions. The false bullets were contained in a small box, of which alone I had the key, and I only opened it at the moment of action. That evening I had been peculiarly careful; then how can I explain the frightful error? I can only accuse fatality. So much is certain—a leaden bullet had been mixed with the others in the box, and was inserted in the pistol.

Conceive all the horror of such an action! Imagine a father, with a smile on his lips, giving the signal which will deprive his son of life—it is frightful, is it not?

The pistol was fired, and the spectator, with cruel adroitness, had aimed so truly that the bullet crashed through my son’s forehead. He fell forward with his face to the ground, rolled over once or twice, and——

For a moment I remained motionless, still smiling at the audience, and incapable of believing in such a misfortune. In a second a thousand thoughts crossed my brain. Could it be an illusion, a surprise I had prepared, and which I had momentarily forgotten? or was it the return of my son’s attack?

Paralysed by doubt and horror, my feet clung to the stage; but the blood welling profusely from the wound violently recalled me to the terrible reality. At last I understood all, and, mad with agony, I cast myself on my son’s lifeless corpse.

I know not what took place afterwards, or what became of me. When I recovered the use of my senses, I found myself in prison, with two men before me, a physician and a magistrate. The latter, sympathising with me, was kind enough to perform his painful mission with all possible regard for my feelings; but I could scarce understand the questions he addressed to me; I knew not what to reply, and I contented myself with shedding tears.

I was fully committed, and brought up at the next assises. I assure you I took my place in the dock with indescribable delight, hoping I should only leave it to receive the just punishment of the crime I had committed. I was resigned to die; I even wished it, and I determined to do all in my power to get rid of a life which was odious to me. Hence, I offered no defence; but the court requested a barrister to undertake my cause, and he defended me with great skill. I was found guilty of “Homicide through imprudence,” and sentenced to six months’ imprisonment, which I passed in an infirmary. Here I saw Antonio again for the first time, who brought me terrible news: my dear Antonia, unable to endure such complicated misery, had died of a broken heart.

This new blow affected me so much that I was nearly dead. I spent the greater period of my imprisonment in a state of weakness akin to death; but at length my vigorous constitution overcame all these shocks, and I regained my health. I had quite recovered when the doors of my prison were opened.

Grief and remorse accompanied me wherever I went, and cast me in a state of apathy from which nothing could arouse me. For three months I behaved like a madman, running about the country, and only eating just enough to keep me from perishing of hunger. I went forth at daybreak, and did not return till night. I could not possibly have said what I did during these lengthened excursions, but I probably walked about with no other object than to change place.

Such an existence could not last long; poverty, and her mournful handmaids, soon preyed upon me. My wife’s illness, my imprisonment, and our expenses during these three months of listlessness, had swallowed up, not only my money, but also all my apparatus. Antonio explained our situation to me, and begged me to recommence my performances.

I could not leave this good brother, this excellent friend, in such a critical position; I therefore acceded to his entreaties, on condition that I should change my name to Torrini, and never perform in any theatre. Antonio offered to arrange everything to my wish. By selling the valuable presents I had received on various occasions, and which he had managed to secrete from the officers, he paid my debts, and had the carriage built in which we suffered this painful accident.

From Strasburg we proceeded to Basle. My first performances were stamped with the deepest sorrow, but I gradually substituted skill and care for my gaiety and good spirits, and the public accepted the change. After visiting the principal towns in Switzerland, we returned to France, and it was thus I found you my dear boy, on the road between Tours and Blois.

I saw by Torrini’s last sentences, and the manner in which he tried to shorten his narrative, that he not only required rest, but also to recover from the painful emotions these melancholy reminiscences had evoked. A few words, too, Torrini had dropped confirmed my notion that he was in a pecuniary dilemma; hence, I left him under the pretence of letting him sleep, and begged Antonio to take a walk with me. I wanted to remind him it was time to carry out the plan we had formed, which consisted in giving a few performances at Aubussen, without dropping a word of it to our dear master. Antonio was of my opinion; but when it came to deciding which of us should perform, he positively asserted he knew no more of the conjuring art than he had been obliged to learn—he could slip a card, a handkerchief, or a coin into a person’s pocket, if required, but nothing more. I learned later that Antonio, though not very skillful, knew more than he pretended.

We decided that I should represent the sorcerer; and I must have been animated with a great desire to help Torrini, and pay him in part the debt of gratitude I owed, ere I consented to mount a stage so suddenly. For, although I had shown my friends some of my tricks, the performance had always been gratuitous; now I had to do with spectators who paid for their seats, and this caused me considerable apprehension.

Still, my resolution once formed, I proceeded with Antonio to the mayor’s, in order to obtain permission to perform. This magistrate was an excellent man; aware of the accident that had happened to us, and that he had it in his power to do a good deed, he offered us the gratuitous use of a concert-room. More than this, to give us a chance of forming some acquaintances who might be of use to us, he begged us to come to his house the next Sunday evening. We accepted this offer gratefully, and had reason to congratulate ourselves on it. The mayor’s guests, pleased with certain tricks I showed them, faithfully kept their promise of attending my first performance, and not one was missing.

My heart panted audibly when the curtain rose, and I was obliged to whisper to myself that the spectators, aware of the object of my performance, would be inclined to look over much. Some cheering applause restored my confidence, and I got through my first tricks very decently. This success heightened my assurance, and at length I acquired a degree of coolness I did not think myself capable of.

It is true, I was perfectly au fait in my tricks, through having seen Torrini perform them so often. The principal ones were, the Trowel, the Pyramids of Egypt, the Bird Dead and Alive, and the Omelette in the Hat. I concluded with the Blind Man’s Game of Piquet, which I had carefully studied; I was fortunate enough to succeed, and was warmly applauded.

An accident that happened during the performance singularly lessened the joy I felt in my triumph. I had borrowed a hat to make an omelette in. Those who have seen this trick are aware that it is chiefly intended to produce a laugh, and that the object borrowed runs no risk. I had got through the first part excellently, consisting in breaking the eggs, beating them, throwing in the salt and pepper, and pouring it all into the hat. After this, I had to feign the frying of the omelette; I placed a candle on the ground, then, holding the hat sufficiently high above it to escape the flame, I began turning it gently round, while making some of the stereotyped jokes adapted to the trick. The public laughed so heartily and loudly that I could scarce hear myself speak, but I could not suspect the cause of their hilarity. Unfortunately, I detected it only too soon. A strong scent of burning made me turn my eyes on the candle: it had gone out. I then looked at the hat: the crown was quite burned and stained. I had kept on turning the hat round unsuspectingly, until I at length put it on the top of the candle and covered it with grease.

Quite dazed by this sight, I stopped, not knowing how to escape. Fortunately for me, my alarm, though so truthful, was regarded as a well-played farce: it was supposed this was only a heightened effect, and this confidence in my skill was an additional torture, for my supernatural power could not repair a hat. My only chance was to gain time; so I continued the trick, with a tolerably easy air, and produced to the public a splendidly cooked omelette, which I had enough courage left to season with a few jokes.

Still, that quarter of an hour of which Rabelais speaks had arrived. I must restore the hat, and publicly confess myself a clumsy blockhead. I had resigned myself to this, and was going to do so, with all the dignity I could muster, when I heard Antonio call me from the side. His voice restored my courage, for I felt assured he had prepared some way for escape. I went up to him, and found him standing with a hat in his hand.

“Look here,” he said, exchanging it for the one I held, “it’s yours; but no matter, keep a good face: rub it as if you were removing the stains, and, on handing it to the owner, ask him, gently, to read what is at the bottom.”

I did as he told me; and the owner of the burnt hat, after receiving mine, was going to betray me, when I pointed to the note fastened in the crown. It ran as follows:

“An act of carelessness caused me to commit a fault, which I will repair. To-morrow I will do myself the honor of asking your hatter’s address: in the meanwhile, be kind enough to act as my accomplice.”

My request was granted, for my secret was honestly kept, and my professional honor saved. The success of this performance induced me to give several others: the receipts were excellent, and we realized a very fair sum. Immense was our joy when we carried our treasure triumphantly to Torrini. That worthy man, after listening to all the details of our plot, was half inclined to scold us for our secrecy, but he could not find heart to do so. He thanked us most heartily, and we began to set matters straight again, as our master was now convalescent, and could attend to his own business. Torrini paid all his creditors in full, purchased two horses, and, having nothing further to do at Aubusson, he determined on starting.

The moment of our separation had arrived, and my old friend had been arming himself for it during several days. The parting was painful to us all; a father quitting his son, without hope of ever seeing him again, could not have displayed more violent grief than did Torrini when pressing me in his arms for the last time. I, too, felt inconsolable at the loss of two friends with whom I would so gladly have passed my life.