Memoirs of Robert-Houdin, ambassador, author and conjurerRobert-Houdin, Jean-Eugène
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Memoirs of Robert-Houdin, ambassador, author and conjurer
Robert-Houdin, Jean-Eugène
Magicians -- France -- Biography; Robert-Houdin, Jean-Eugène, 1805-1871
“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.
CHAPTER VIII.
The Prodigal Son--Mademoiselle Houdin--I go to Paris--My
Marriage--Comte--Studies of the Public--A skillful
Manager--Rose-colored Tickets--A Musky Style--The King of
Hearts--Ventriloquism--The Mystifiers Mystified--Father
Roujol--Jules de Rovère--Origin of the word _prestidigitateur_.
How my heart beat when I returned to my native town! I felt as if I had
been absent an age, and yet it was only six months. The tears stood in
my eyes as I embraced father and mother: I was stifled with emotion. I
have since made long journeys in foreign countries; I have always
returned to my family safely, but never, I can declare, have I been so
profoundly affected as on this occasion. Perhaps it is the same with
this impression as with so many others, habit at last renders it flat.
I found my father very quiet on my account, for I had employed a trick
to ease his mind. A watchmaker of my acquaintance had sent him my
letters, as if from Angers, and he had also forwarded me the replies.
Still, I must furnish some reason for my return, and I hesitated about
describing my stay with Torrini. At length, however, urged by that
desire, common to all travellers, of narrating their travelling
impressions, I gave an account of my adventures, even to their minutest
details.
My mother, frightened, and thinking I was still brain-struck, did not
await the end of my narrative to send for a physician, who reassured
her by stating, what my face indeed confirmed, that I was in a state of
perfect health.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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