“Mercy! — Mercy!” he moaned— “Have pity on me, in the name of God!”
Del Fortis looked down upon him with contempt, as though he were some loathsome reptile writhing at his feet. “Silence!” he said, in a harsh whisper— “Remember, we are watched here! Get up! — why do you kneel to me? I have nothing to do with you, beyond such office as the Church enjoins!” And a cold smile darkened, rather than lightened his features. “I am sent to administer ‘spiritual consolation’ to you!”
Slowly the prisoner struggled up to a standing posture, and pressing both hands to his head, he stared wildly before him.
“‘Spiritual consolation’!” he muttered-”’Spiritual’?” A faint dull vacuous smile flickered over his face, and he shuddered. “I understand! You come to prepare my soul for Heaven!”
Del Fortis gave him a sinister look.
“That depends on yourself!” he replied curtly— “The Church can speed you either way, — to Heaven, or — Hell!”
The prisoner’s hands clenched involuntarily with a gesture of despair.
“I know that!” he said sullenly— “The Church can save or kill! What of it? I am now beyond even the power of the Church!”
Del Fortis seated himself on the stone bench.
“Come here!” he said— “Sit down beside me!”
The prisoner obeyed.
“Look at this!” — and he drew an ebony and silver crucifix from his breast— “Fix your eyes upon it, and try, my son,” — here he raised his voice a little— “try to conquer your thoughts of things temporal, and lift them to the things which are eternal! For things temporal do quickly vanish and disperse, but things eternal shall endure for ever! Humble your soul before God, and beseech Him with me, to mercifully cleanse the dark stain of sin upon your soul!” Here he began mumbling a Latin prayer, and while engaged in this, he caught the prisoner’s hand in a close grip. “Act — act with me!” he said firmly. “Fool! — Play a part, as I do! Bend your head close to mine — assume shame and sorrow even if you cannot feel it! And listen to me well! You have failed!”
“I know it!”
The reply came thick and low.
“Why did you make the attempt at all? Who persuaded you?”
The wretched youth lifted his head, and showed a wild white face, in which the piteous eyes, starting from their sockets, looked blind with terror.
“Who persuaded me?” he replied mechanically— “No one! No single one, — but many!”
Del Fortis gripped him firmly by the wrist.
“You lie!” he snarled— “How dare you utter such a calumny! Who were you? What were you? A miserable starveling — picked up from the streets and saved from penury, — housed and sheltered in our College, — taught and trained and given paid employment by us, — what have you to say of ‘persuasion’? — you, who owe your very life to us, and to our charity!”
Roused by this attack, the prisoner, wrenching his hand away from the priest’s cruel grasp, sprang upright.
“Wait — wait!” he said breathlessly— “You do not understand! You forget! All my life I have been under One great influence — all my life I have been taught to dream One great Dream! When I talk of ‘persuasion,’ I only mean the persuasion of that force which has surrounded me as closely as the air I breathe! — that spirit which is bound to enter into all who work for you, or with you! Oh no! — neither you nor any member of your Order ever seek openly to ‘persuade’ any man to any act, whether good or evil — your Rule is much wiser than that! — much more subtle! You issue no actual commands — your power comes chiefly by suggestion! And with you, — working for you — I have thought day and night, night and day, of the glory of Rome! — the dominion of Rome! — the triumph of Rome! I have learned, under you, to wish for it, to pray for it, to desire it more than my own life! — do you, can you blame me for that? You dare not call it a sin; — for your Order represents it as a virtue that condones all sin!”
Del Fortis was silent, watching him with a kind of curious contempt.
“It grew to be part of me, this Dream!” went on the lad, his eyes now shining with a feverish brilliancy— “And I began to see wonderful visions, and to hear voices calling me in the daytime, — voices that no one else heard! Once in the College chapel I saw the Blessed Virgin’s picture smile! I was copying documents for the Vatican then, — and I thought of the Holy Father, — how he was imprisoned in Rome, when he should be Emperor of all the Emperors, — King of all the Kings! I remembered how it was that he had no temporal power, — though all the powers of the earth should be subservient to him! — and my heart beat almost to bursting, and my brain seemed on fire! — but the Blessed Virgin’s picture still smiled; — and I knelt down before it and swore that I, — even I, would help to give the whole world back to Rome, even if I died for it!”
He caught his breath with a kind of sob, and looked appealingly at Del Fortis, who, fingering the crucifix he held, sat immovable.
“And then — and then” he went on, “I heard enough, — while at work in the monastery with you and the brethren, — to strengthen and fire my resolution. I learned that all kings are, in these days, the enemies of the Church. I learned that they were all united in one resolve; and that, — to deprive the Holy Father of temporal power! Then I set myself to study kings. Each, and all of those who sit on thrones to-day passed before my view; — all selfish, money-seeking, sensual men! — not one good, true soul among them! Demons they seemed to me, — bent on depriving God’s Evangelist in Rome of his Sacred and Supreme Sovereignty! It made me mad! — and I would have killed all kings, could I have done so with a single thought! Then came a day when you preached openly in the Cathedral against this one King, who should by right have gone to his account this very afternoon! — you told the people how he had refused lands to the Church, — and how by this wicked act he had stopped the progress of religious education, and had put himself, as it were, in the way of Christ who said: ‘Suffer little children to come unto Me!’ And my dreams of the glory of Rome again took shape — I saw in my mind all the children, — the poor little children of the world, gathered to the knee of the Holy Father, and brought up to obey him and him only! — I remembered my oath before the Blessed Virgin’s picture, and all my soul cried out: ‘Death to the crowned Tyrant! Death!’ For you said — and I believed it — that all who opposed the Holy Father’s will, were opposed to the will of God! — and over and over again I said in my heart: ‘Death to the tyrant! Death!’ And the words went with me like the response of a litany, — till — till — I saw him before me to-day — a pampered fool, surrounded by women! — a blazoned liar! — and then—” He paused, smiling foolishly; and shaking his head with a slow movement to and fro, he added— “The dagger should have struck home! — it was aimed surely — aimed strongly! — but that woman came between — why did she come? They said she was Lotys! — ha ha! — Lotys, the Revolutionary sybil! — Lotys, the Socialist! — but that could not be, — Lotys is as great an enemy of kings as I am!”
“And an enemy of the Church as well!” said Del Fortis harshly— “Between the Church and Socialism, all Thrones stand on a cracking earth, devoured by fire! But make no mistake about it! — the woman was Lotys! Socialist and Revolutionary as she may be, she has saved the life of the King. This is so far fortunate — for you! And it is much to be hoped that she herself is not slain by your dagger thrust; — death is far too easy and light a punishment for her and her associates! We trust it may please a merciful God to visit her with more lingering calamity!”
As he said this, he piously kissed the crucifix he held, keeping his shallow dark eyes fixed on the prisoner with the expression of a cat watching a mouse. The half-crazed youth, absorbed in the ideas of his own dementia, still smiled to himself vaguely, and nervously plucked at his fingers, till Del Fortis, growing impatient and forgetting for the moment that they stood in a prison cell, the interior of which might possibly be seen and watched from many poin
ts of observation unknown to them, went up to him and shook him roughly by the arm.
“Attention!” he said angrily— “Rouse yourself and hear me! You talk like a fool or a madman, — yet you are neither — neither, you understand? — neither idiot-born nor suddenly crazed; — so, when on your trial do not feign to be what you are not! Such ideas as you have expressed, though they may have their foundation in a desire for good, are evil in their results — yet even out of evil good may come! The power of Rome — the glory of Rome — the dominion of Rome! Rome, supreme Mistress of the world! Would you help the Church to win this great victory? Then now is your chance! God has given you — you, His poor instrument, — the means to effectually aid His conquest, — to Him be all the praise and thanksgiving! It rests with you to accept His message and perform His work!”
The high-flown, melodramatic intensity with which he pronounced these words, had the desired effect on the stunned and bewildered, weak mind of the unfortunate lad so addressed. His eyes sparkled — his cheeks flushed, — and he looked eagerly up into the face of his priestly hypnotizer.
“Yes — yes!” he said quickly in a breathless whisper— “But how? — tell me how! I will work — oh, I will work — for Rome, for God, for the Blessed Virgin! — I will do all that I can! — but how — how? Will the Holy Father send an angel to take me out of this prison, so that I may be free to help God?”
Del Fortis surveyed him with a kind of grim derision, A slight noise like the slipping-back or slipping-to of a grating, startled him, and he looked about him on all sides, moved by a sudden nervous apprehension. But the massive walls of the cell, oozing with damp and slime, had apparently no aperture or outlet anywhere, not even a slit in the masonry for the admission of daylight. Satisfied with his hasty examination, he took his credulous victim by the arm, and led him back to the rough stone bench where they had first begun to converse.
“Kneel down here before me!” — he said— “Kneel, as if you were repeating all the sins of your life to me in your last confession! Kneel, I say!”
Feebly, and with trembling limbs, the lad obeyed.
“Now,” continued Del Fortis, holding up the crucifix before him— “Try to follow my words and understand them! To-morrow, or the next day, you will be taken before a judge and tried for your attempted crime. Do you realise that?”
“I do!” The answer came hesitatingly, and with a faint moan.
“Have you thought what you intend to say when you are asked your reasons for attacking the King? Do you mean to tell judge and jury the story of what you call your ‘persuasion’ to dream of the dominion of Rome?”
“Yes — yes!” replied the lad, looking up with an eager light on his face— “Yes, I will tell them all, — just as I have told you! Then they will know, — they will see that it was a good thought of mine — it would have been a good sin! I will speak to them of the wicked wrongs done to you and your Holy Order, — of the cruelty which the Christian Apostle in Rome has to suffer at the hands of kings — and they will acknowledge me to be right and just; — they will know I am as a man inspired by God to work for the Church, the bride of Christ, and to make her Queen of all the world!”
He stopped suddenly, intimidated by the cruel glare of the wolfish eyes above him.
“You will say nothing of all this!” and Del Fortis shook the crucifix in his face as though it were a threatening weapon; “You will say only what I choose, — only what I command! And if you do not swear to speak as I tell you, I will kill you! — here and now — with my own hands!”
Uttering a half-smothered cry, the wretched youth recoiled in terror.
“You will kill me? You — you?” he gasped— “No — no! — you could not do that! you could not, — you are a holy man! I — I am not afraid that you will hurt me! I have done nothing to offend you, — I have always been obedient to you, — I have been your slave — your dog to fetch and carry! — and you should remember, — yes! — you should remember that my mother was rich, — and that because she too felt the call of God, she gave all her money to the Church, and left me thrown upon the streets to starve! But the Church rescued me — the Church did not forget! And I am ready to serve the Church in all and every possible way, — I have done my best, even now!”
He spoke with all the passionate self-persuasion of a fanatic, and Del Fortis judged it wisest to control his own fierce inward impatience and deal with him more restrainedly.
“That is true enough!” he said in milder accents;— “You are ready to serve the Church, — I do not doubt it; — but you do not serve it in the right way. No earthly good is gained to us by the killing of kings! Their conversion and obedience is what we seek. This king you would have slain is a baptised son of the Church; but beyond attending mass regularly in his private chapel, which he does for the mere sake of appearances, he is an atheist, condemned to the fires of Hell. Nevertheless, no advantage to us could possibly be obtained by his death. Much can be done for us by you — yes, you! — and much will depend on the answers to the questions asked you at your trial. Give those answers as I shall bid you, and you will win a triumph for the cause of Rome!”
The prisoner’s eyes glittered feverishly, — full of the delirium of bigotry, he caught the lean, cold hand that held the crucifix, and kissed it fervently.
“Command me!” he muttered— “Command! — and in the name of the Blessed Virgin, I will obey!”
“Hear then, and attend closely to my words,” went on Del Fortis, enunciating his sentences in a low distinct voice— “When you are brought before the judge, you will be accused of an attempt to assassinate the King. Make no denial of it, — admit it at once, and express contrition. You will then be asked if any person or persons instigated you to commit the crime. To this say ‘yes’!”
“Say ‘yes’!” repeated the lad— “But that will not be true!”
“Fool, does it matter!” ejaculated Del Fortis, almost savagely— “Have you not sworn to speak as I command you? What is it to you whether it is true or false?”
A slight shiver passed through the prisoner’s limbs — but he was silent.
“Say” — went on his pitiless instructor— “that you were enticed and persuaded to commit the wicked deed by the teachings of the Socialist, Sergius Thord, and his followers. Say that the woman Lotys knew of your intention, — and saved the life of the King at the last moment, through fear, lest her own seditious schemes should be discovered and herself punished. Say, — that because you were young and weak and impressionable, she chose you out to attempt the assassination. Do you hear?”
“I hear!” The reply came thickly and almost inaudibly. “But must I tell these lies? I have never spoken to Sergius Thord in my life! — nor to the woman Lotys; — I know nothing of them or their followers, except by the public talk; — why should I harm the innocent? Let me tell the truth, I pray of you! — let me speak as my heart dictates! — let me plead for the Holy Father — for you — for your Order — for the Church!—”
He broke off as Del Fortis caught him by both hands in an angry grip.
“Do not dare to speak one word of the Church!” he said, “Or of us, — or of our Order! Let not a single syllable escape your lips concerning your connection with us and our Society! — or we shall find means to make you regret it! Beware of betraying yourself! When you are once before the Court of Law, remember you know nothing of Us, our Work, or our Creed!”
Utterly bewildered and mystified, the unhappy youth rocked himself to and fro, clasping and unclasping his hands in a kind of nervous paroxysm.
“Oh why, why will you bid me to do this?” he moaned— “You know there are times when I cannot be answerable for myself! How can I tell what I shall do when I am brought face to face with my accusers? — when I see all the dreadful eyes of the people turned upon me? How can I deny all knowledge of those who brought me up, and nurtured and educated me? If they ask me of my home, is it not with you? — under your sufferance and charity? I
f they seek to know my means of subsistence, is it not through you that I receive the copying-work for which I am paid? You would not have me repudiate all this, would you? I should be worse than a dog in sheer ingratitude if I did not bear open testimony to all the Church has done for me!”
“Be, not worse than a dog, but faithful as a dog in obedience!” responded Del Fortis impressively— “And, for once, speak of the Church with the indifference of an atheist, — or with such marked coldness as a wise man speaks of the woman he secretly adores! Hold the Church and Us too sacred for any mention in a Court of criminal law! But serve the Church by involving the Socialist and Revolutionary party! Think of the magnificent results which will spring from this act, — and nerve yourself to tell a lie in order to support a truth!”
Rising unsteadily from his knees, the prisoner stood upright. By the flicker of the dim lamp, he looked deadly pale, and his limbs tottered as though shaken by an ague fit.
“What good will come of it?” he queried dully— “What good can come of it?”
“Great and lasting good will come of it!” — replied Del Fortis— “And it will come quickly too; — in this way, for by fastening the accusation of undue influence on Sergius Thord and his companions, you will obtain Government restriction, if not total suppression of the Socialist party. This is what we need! The Socialists are growing too strong — too powerful in every country, — and we are on the brink of trouble through their accursed and atheistical demonstrations. There will soon be serious disturbances in the political arena — possibly an overthrow of the Government, and a general election — and if Sergius Thord has the chance of advancing himself as a deputy, he will be elected above all others by an overpowering majority of the lower classes. You can prevent this! — you can prevent it by a single falsehood, which in this case will be more pleasing to God than a thousand mischievous veracities! Will you do it? Yes or No?”
The miserable lad looked helplessly around him, his weak frame trembling as with palsy, and his uncertain fingers plucking at each other with that involuntary movement of the muscles which indicates a disordered brain.
Delphi Collected Works of Marie Corelli (Illustrated) (Delphi Series Eight Book 22) Page 564