CHAPTER XIII. THE PERE MASSONI'S MISGIVINGS
It was late at night, and all quiet and still in the Eternal City, asthe Pere Massoni sat in his little study intent upon a large map whichoccupied the whole table before him. Strange blotches of colour markedin various places, patches of blue and deep red, with outlines the mostirregular appeared here and there, leaving very little of the surfacewithout some tint. It was a map of Ireland, on which the successiveconfiscations were marked, and the various changes of proprietorshipindicated by different colours; a curious document, carefully drawn up,and which had cost the labour of some years. Massoni studied it withsuch deep intensity that he had not noticed the entrance of a servant,who now stood waiting to deliver a letter which he held in his hand.At last he perceived the man, and, hastily snatching the note, read tohimself the following few lines--
'She will come to-morrow at noon. Give orders to admit her at once tohim; but do not yourself be there.'
This was signed 'D' and carefully folded and sealed.
'That will do; you need not wait, said the Pere, and again he was alone.For several minutes he continued to ponder over the scenes before him,and then, throwing them on the table, exclaimed aloud, 'And this is theboasted science of medicine! Here is the most learned physician of allRome--the trusted of Popes and Cardinals--confessing that there arephases of human malady to which, while his art gives no clue--a certainmysterious agency--a something compounded of imposture and fanaticism,can read and decipher. What an ignoble avowal is this, and what asarcasm upon all intellect and its labours! And what will be said ofme,' cried he, in a louder voice, 'if it be known that I have lent mycredence to such a doctrine; that I, the head and leader of a greatassociation, should stoop to take counsel from those who, if they be notcheats and impostors, must needs be worse! And, if worse, what then?'muttered he, as he drew his hand across his brow as though to clearaway some difficult and distressing thought. 'Ay, what then? Are therereally diabolic agencies at work in those ministrations? Are thesemiraculous revelations that we hear of ascribable to evil influences?What if it were not trick and legerdemain? What if Satan had reallyseized upon these passers of base money to mingle his own coinage withtheirs? If every imposture be his work, why should he not act throughthose who have contrived it? Oh, if we could but know what are thetruthful suggestions of inspirations, and what the crafty devices of anerring brain! If, for instance, I could now see how far the greatcause to which my life is devoted should be served or thwarted by theenterprise.'
He walked the room for nigh an hour in deep and silent meditation.
'I will see her myself,' cried he at length. 'All her stage tricks andcunning will avail her little with _me_; and if she really have highpowers, why should they not be turned to our use? When Satan piled evilupon evil to show his strength, St. Francis made of the mass an altar?Well, now, Giacomo, what is it?' asked he suddenly, as his servantentered.
'He has fallen asleep at last, reverend father,' answered he, 'andis breathing softly as a child. He cannot fail to be better for thisrepose, for it is now five days and nights since he has closed an eye.'
'Never since the night of the reception at Cardinal Abbezi's.'
'That was a fatal experiment, I much fear,' muttered Giacomo.
'It may have been so. Who knows--who ever did or could know withcertainty the one true path out of difficulty?'
'When he came back on that night,' continued Giacomo, 'he would notsuffer me to undress him, but threw himself down on the bed as he was,saying, "Leave me to myself; I would be alone."
'I offered to take off his sword and the golden collar of his order, buthe bade me angrily to desist, and said--
'"These are all that remind me of what I am, and you would rob me ofthem.'"
'True enough; the pageantry was a brief dream! And what said he next?'
'He talked wildly about his cruel fortunes, and the false friends whohad misguided him in his youth, saying--
'"These things never came of blind chance; the destinies of princes arewritten in letters of gold, and not traced in the sands of the sea. Theywho betrayed my father have misled _me_."'
'How like his house,' exclaimed the Pere; 'arrogant in the very hour oftheir destitution!'
'He then went on to rave about the Scottish wars, speaking of placesand people I had never before heard of. After lamenting the duplicityof Spain, and declaring that French treachery had been their ruin, "andnow," cried he, "the game is to be played over again, as though itwere in the day of general demolition men would struggle to restore aworn-out dynasty."'
'Did he speak thus?' cried Massoni eagerly.
'Yes, he said the words over and over, adding, "I am but the 'figurino,'to be laid aside when the procession is over," and he wept bitterly.'
'The Stuarts could always find comfort in tears; they could draw upontheir own sympathies unfailingly. What said he of _me_?' asked he, withsudden eagerness.
Giacomo was silent, and folding his arms within his robe of serge, casthis eyes downward.
'Speak out, and frankly--what said he?' repeated the Pere.
'That you were ambitious--one whose heart yearned after worldlyelevation and power.'
'Power--yes!' muttered the Pere.
'That once engaged in a cause, your energies would be wholly with it, solong as you directed and guided it; that he had known men of yourstamp in France during the Revolution, and that the strength of theirconvictions was more often a source of weakness than of power.'
'It was from Gabriel Riquetti that he stole the remark. It was even thusMirabeau spoke of our order.'
'You must be right, reverend father, for he continued to talk much ofthis same Riquetti, saying that he alone, of all Europe, could haverestored the Stuarts to England. "Had we one such man as that," said he,"I now had been lying in Holy rood Palace."'
'He was mistaken there,' muttered Massoni half aloud. 'The men who arewithout faith raise no lasting edifices. How strange,' added he aloud,'that the Prince should have spoken in this wise. When I have been withhim he was ever wandering, uncertain, incoherent.'
'And into this state he gradually lapsed, singing snatches of peasantsongs to himself, and mingling Scottish rhymes with Alfieri's verses;sometimes fancying himself in all the wild conflict of a street-fight inParis, and then thinking that he was strolling along a river's bank withsome one that he loved.'
'Has he then loved?' asked Massoni in a low, distinct voice.
'From chance words that have escaped him in his wanderings I havegathered as much, though who she was and whence, or what her station inlife, I cannot guess.'
'She will tell us this,' muttered the Pere to himself; and then turningto Giacomo said, 'To-morrow, at noon, that woman they call the EgyptianPrincess is to be here; she is to come in secret to see him. The Princeof Piombino has arranged it all, and says that her marvellous gift isnever in fault, all hearts being open to her as a printed page, andmen's inmost thoughts as legible as their features.'
'Is it an evil possession?' asked Giacomo tremblingly.
'Who can dare to say so? Let us wait and watch. Take care that the smalldoor that opens from the garden upon the Pincian be left ajar, as shewill come by that way; and let there be none to observe or note hercoming. You will yourself meet her at the gate, and conduct her to hischamber--where leave her.'
'If Rome should hear that we have accepted such aid----'
A gesture of haughty contempt from the Pere interrupted the speech, andMassoni said--
'Are not they with troubled consciences frequent visitors at ourshrines? Might not this woman come, as thousands have come, to havea doubt removed; a case of conscience satisfied; a heresy arrested?Besides, she is a Pagan,' added he suddenly; 'may she not be one eagerto seek the truth?' The cold derision of his look, as he spoke, awed thesimple servitor, who, meekly bending his head, retired.
Gerald Fitzgerald, the Chevalier: A Novel Page 38