EXCITED
The street-singer was resting in the beautiful boudoir of the young
countess, Irene de Salves. The poor child lay under lace covers, and
Irene's tenderness and attachment had banished her melancholy.
After the terrible scene in the Fougereuse mansion, the young countess,
with the help of Arthur, brought Louison to a carriage, and, to Madame
Ursula's horror, she gave the young girl her own room and bed. For
Fanfaro's sister nothing could be good enough, and the young countess
made Louison as comfortable as possible.
After the young girl had rested a few hours, she felt much stronger, but
with this feeling the recollection of what she had gone through
returned, and in a trembling voice she asked Irene:
"Who saved me?"
"Don't you know?" asked the countess, blushing. "It was Fanfaro."
"Fanfaro? Who is that?"
Irene looked at her in astonishment. Was it possible that Louison did
not know her own brother, or had the excitement of the last days crazed
her mind?
"Won't you tell me who Fanfaro is?" asked Louison, urgently.
"Don't you really know your own brother?" asked Irene in surprise.
"My brother?"
Louison laid her hand on her head and became thoughtful.
"I had a brother once," she said, pensively; "he was a few years older
than I, and did everything to please me, but it is long ago since I saw
Jacques--many, many years."
"Jacques and Fanfaro are identical," replied Irene, softly.
She had been told this by her cousin Arthur, who took a great interest
in the brother and sister.
"Fanfaro," repeated Louison, pensively. "Ah! now I know who this man is.
He belongs to a company of acrobats who give performances in the Place
du Chateau d'Eau. They have all such peculiar names. One of them is
named Firejaws--"
"Perfectly right; he is Fanfaro's foster-father, and Fanfaro is your
brother."
"Who told you so?"
"He, himself; he begged me to care for his sister."
"But why does he not come? I long to see him."
Irene, too, longed to see Fanfaro.
"Let me speak a little about him," said Louison, vivaciously; "perhaps
Fanfaro is identical with Jacques; he must be twenty years of age."
"That may be so."
"And then he must be very handsome. Jacques was a very pretty boy."
"That is correct, too," replied Irene, blushing.
"Has he black eyes and dark, curly hair?"
"I think so," stammered Irene, who knew all these details, yet did not
wish to confess it.
"You think so," repeated Louison; "you haven't looked carefully at him?"
"I--I--" stammered the countess, in confusion; "what do you look at me
for?"
A smile flitted across Louison's lips, but she kept silent, and Irene
thanked God, as Madame Ursula now came in and softly said:
"Irene, a word."
"What is the matter?" asked the countess, hastily.
"There is a man outside who would like to speak to you."
"His name?"
"Bobichel--"
"Bobichel? Ah! bring him in the next room directly!"
Madame Ursula nodded and disappeared, while Irene turned to Louison and
said in explanation:
"Excuse me a moment; I will not leave you long alone."
She went to the next room, where Bobichel was already awaiting her. He
did not look as jolly as usual, and, twirling his cap between his
fingers in an embarrassed way, he began:
"Mademoiselle, excuse me for disturbing you, but--"
"You come from him--from Fanfaro?" said Irene, blushing.
"Unfortunately no," replied Bobichel, sorrowfully; "I was not allowed to
see him."
"Who sent you here?"
"His foster-father--Girdel."
"Why does he not come personally?"
"I do not know. I have something to give you."
"What is it?"
"Here it is," said Bobichel, pulling a small package out of his pocket
and handing it to Irene.
The young countess hastily unfolded the package. It contained two
letters, one of which was addressed to "Mademoiselle Irene," while the
other bore, in clear, firm letters, her full name, "Countess Irene de
Salves."
Without accounting for her feelings, Irene feverishly broke the last
letter. Did she suspect from whom it came?
"Countess, you are brave and noble!" wrote Fanfaro, "and therefore
I dare to ask you to take care of my sister, whom I barely rescued
from death. The hour is near at hand in which my sentence will be
pronounced. You have never doubted me, and I thank you from the
bottom of my heart! I have fought for the rights of humanity, and I
hope at some future time to be enrolled among those to whom right
is preferable to material things. One thing, however, I know now: a
powerful enemy pursues me with his hatred, and if the sentence
should turn out differently from what this enemy expects, he will
find the means to make me harmless. I therefore say farewell to
you--if forever, who can say? Irene, do not despair, eternal
heavenly justice stands above human passions. But if I should
succumb, I will die peacefully, knowing that my mother and my
sister will not be deserted."
The letter bore no signature. Irene read again and again the words of
her beloved, and hot tears fell on the paper.
Bobichel, deeply affected, observed the young girl, and to console her
he said:
"Who knows, he might not be found guilty anyhow?"
"Whom are you talking of? Who will be found guilty?" came from a
frightened voice behind Irene, and as the latter hastily turned round,
she saw Louison, who, enveloped in a soft shawl and pale as a spectre,
stood in the doorway.
"Louison, how did you get here?" cried Irene, beside herself. "O God! I
am neglecting you. Quick, go to your room again, you shall know all
to-morrow."
"Sister," whispered Louison, softly, "why do you wish to conceal
something from me which I already know? Tell me what has happened to
Fanfaro? I know danger threatens him, and two can bear the heaviest
burden easier than one."
"Yes, you are right," replied Irene, embracing Louison, and, gently
leading her to her room, she sat down beside her and hastily told her
what she knew about the conspiracy and the part Fanfaro took in it.
Bobichel put in a word here and there, and when Irene had finished he
said with a smile:
"Mademoiselle, in your eagerness to read one of the letters you forgot
to open the other."
"That's so!" exclaimed Irene blushing, and unfolding Girdel's letter she
read the following words, written in an original orthographical style:
"We must reskue Fanfaro and this is only posibel in one way. You
have great inflooence; try to make the thing which Popichel will
give you all right, but not until after the trial, which will take
place in two days. I trust in you.
GIRDEL."
"What answer shall I bring master!" asked the clown after Irene had read
the letter.
"That I will do as he says," replied Irene. "Where is the thing Girdel
intrusted to you?"
"Here," said Bobichel, handing the young lady a pin with a pretty large
head; and as Irene, amazed, looked inquiringly at him, he quickly tore
off the head and showed her a small hollow in which a note lay.
"You see, mademoiselle," he laughingly said, "prestidigitation is
sometimes of use. And now good-by. I will tell master that he struck the
right person."
He disappeared, and the two young girls looked after him filled with new
hope.
From the time that the old Countess of Salves had informed the Marquise
of Fougereuse that under existing circumstances a marriage between her
daughter and the Vicomte de Talizac was out of the question, violent
scenes had taken place in the Fougereuse mansion.
Financial ruin could now hardly be averted, and, far from accusing her
son of being the cause of this shipwreck of her plans, Madeleine placed
the blame entirely on her husband. It was already whispered in court
circles that the newly appointed captain in the Life Guards and Knight
of St. Louis would lose his position, and though the other young
noblemen were no better than the vicomte, they had the advantage that
this was not universally known.
The marquis and Madeleine had just been having a quarrel, and the
marquis, pale and exhausted, lay back in his chair, when Count Fernando
de Velletri was announced. The marquis bathed his face and forehead in
cold water, and ordered the Italian to be sent up. He attached great
importance to this visit, for Simon had told him that Velletri was a
member of the Society of Jesus, and a man of great influence.
Velletri entered and his appearance was so different from what it
ordinarily was that the marquis looked at him in amazement. He wore a
long black coat, a black cravat, and a round hat of the same color.
These things marked Velletri at once as a member of an ecclesiastical
society. The dark cropped hair lay thick at the temples, and his eyes
were cast down. The Italian was inch by inch a typical Jesuit, and his
sharp look made the marquis tremble. He knew Loyola's pupils and their
"energy."
Velletri bowed slightly to the marquis, and then said in a cold voice:
"Marquis, I begged for an interview with you which I desire principally
for your own good. Are we undisturbed here?"
"Entirely so," replied the marquis, coldly.
The Italian sat down in a chair which the marquis had shoved toward him,
and began in a business tone:
"Marquis, it is probably not unknown to you that the conduct of your
son, the Vicomte de Talizac, compromises his own position and that of
his family. I--"
"But, count," interrupted the marquis vivaciously, "you were the chum of
my son, and you even encouraged his dissipations."
Velletri laughed maliciously.
"The Vicomte of Talizac," he said, weighing each word, "is no child any
more, and not influenced either in a bad or good way by any of his
companions. If I have apparently taken part in his dissipations, it was
in the first place to prevent something worse and to shield the honor of
the Fougereuse, which was often at stake."
"You, count--but I really do not understand," stammered the marquis.
"It seems to me," interrupted the Italian, sharply, "that we are
swerving from the real object of our interview. Let me speak, marquis. A
powerful society, with which I have the honor of being associated, has
had its eye on you for a long time. Your influence, your opinions and
your family connections are such that the society hopes to have in you a
useful auxiliary, and I have therefore received the order to make
arrangements with you. The society--"
"You are no doubt speaking of the Society of Jesus?" interrupted the
marquis.
Velletri bowed and continued:
"Thanks to the assistance of the pious fathers, his majesty has foregone
his original intention of stripping the Vicomte de Talizac of all his
honors--"
The marquis made a gesture of astonishment, and Velletri went on:
"The society is even ready to give you the means to put your shattered
fortune on a firm basis again."
"And the conditions?" stammered Fougereuse hoarsely.
"I will tell them to you directly; they are not very difficult to
fulfil."
"And should I refuse them?"
"Do you really intend to refuse them?" asked the Jesuit, softly.
Fougereuse bit his lips; he had already said too much. The Jesuit was a
worthy pupil of his master, and the marquis felt that should he oppose
him he would be the loser.
"What does the society ask of me?" he said, after a pause.
"Two things--an important service and a guarantee."
"And what does it offer?"
"The position of his majesty the king's prime minister."
The marquis sprang up as if electrified.
"I have misunderstood you," he said.
"Not at all; it is a question of the premiership."
Cold drops of perspiration stood on the marquis's forehead; he knew the
society had the power to keep its promises. Prime minister! Never in his
dreams had he even thought so high. The position guaranteed to him
riches, influence and power.
"You spoke of an important service and a guarantee," he said, breathing
heavily; "please explain yourself more clearly."
"I will first speak of the service," replied Velletri, calmly; "it is of
such a nature that the one intrusted with it can be thankful, for he
will be able to do a great deal of good to His Holiness the Pope and the
Catholic world."
Fougereuse closed his eyes--this outlook was dazzling.
Fernando de Velletri continued with:
"Marquis, you are no doubt aware that the Jesuits have been expelled
from France under the law of 1764. About two years ago, in January,
1822, his majesty the king allowed them to stay temporarily in his
kingdom. The good prince did not dare at that time to do more for us.
The time has now come to put an end to the oppression under which the
Jesuits have so long suffered. What we desire is the solemn restoration
of all their rights to the fathers. They should hold up their heads
under their true names and enjoy anew all their former privileges. To
secure this end we must have a law--not a royal edict, a sound
constitutional law--which must be passed by the Chamber of Peers. It is
a bold undertaking, and we do not deceive ourselves with regard to the
difficulties to be encountered, and the man who does it must be quick
and energetic, but the reward is a magnificent one. The man we shall
elevate to the prime ministership will be in possession of great power.
Marquis, do you think you have the necessary strength to be this man?"
Fougereuse had arisen. Excited, flushed with enthusiasm, he looked at
Velletri.
"Yes, I am the man!" he firmly exclaimed, "I will easily overcome every
obstacle, conquer every opposition--"
"With our assistance," added the Jesuit. "We are already in possession
of a respectable minority, and it will be easy for you, with the aid of
promises and shrewd insinuations, to win over those who are on the
fence. Marquis, the work intrusted to you is a sublime one--"
"I am yours body and soul," interrupted the marquis impatiently. "And
to-day--"
"One moment," said the Jesuit, placing his hand lightly on the marquis's
shoulder; "I also spoke about a guarantee."
"Really," cried Fougereuse sincerely, "I forgot all about that, but I
should think my word of honor would be sufficient."
Velletri did not reply to his last observation, but coolly said:
"The man in whom the society places such entire confidence as to give
him the weapons which must lead to victory must be bound to us by ties
which cannot be torn asunder."
The marquis's face expressed naïve astonishment.
"The strongest chains," continued the Jesuit, "are, as is well known,
the golden ones, and the guarantee we desire is based on this fact.
Marquis, I am the secretary of the general of the order, and it is my
mission to ask you whether you are ready to assist the society
financially by founding new colonies such as the Montrouge and
Saint-Acheul houses in Parma and Tuscany?"
"Certainly," stammered Fougereuse, "I am ready to help the Society of
Jesus to the extent of my means, and should like to know beforehand how
high the sum is that is required. My finances are at present exhausted
and--"
"Have no fear," interrupted Velletri dryly; "the sum in question is not
so immense that you need be frightened about it."
Fougereuse breathed more freely.
"To found the houses named only a very modest sum is necessary, not more
than a million!"
"A million!" stammered the marquis, "a million!"
"The sum is very small in comparison to the office you buy with it, and
only the particular friendship our order had for you caused it to give
you the preference, to the exclusion of numerous applicants."
"But a million!" groaned Fougereuse, "the sum is impossible to secure!
If I were to sell or pawn everything, I would not succeed in raising a
quarter of this sum."
"Then you refuse?" asked Velletri.
"God forbid, only I do not know how I shall satisfy the demand of the
society. A million is, under the circumstances, a terrible sum!"
"Marquis, the house of Fougereuse possesses a fortune which is fabulous
in comparison to the demands of the society."
"If it were only so," groaned Fougereuse, "but unfortunately you are
mistaken; I am ruined, totally ruined!"
"Impossible! The fortune your father left behind him was too immense to
have been spent in a few years! No matter what your embarrassments
previously were, the fortune must have been sufficient to cover them and
enrich you enormously besides!" replied Velletri.
"Count, I was robbed of my legacy--dastardly robbed," whined Fougereuse.
The Italian rose up angrily.
"Marquis," said he, "I am not used to bargaining and haggling. I ask you
for the last time, what is your decision? I offer you peace or war.
Peace means for you power and influence, while war--"
"War?" repeated Fougereuse, confused. "I--do not understand you!"
"Then I will express myself more clearly. When the society reposes its
confidence in a man like you and discloses its most secret plans, it
always has a weapon in the background, to be used in case of necessity.
A comrade sometimes becomes an opponent--"
"I--should I ever become an enemy of the fathers? Oh, you do not
believe that yourself!"
"Our measures are such that it cannot be done very easily, anyhow,"
replied Velletri, with faint malice; "this is our ultimatum: Either you
accept my proposition and hand over the sum named within five days, or
one of our emissaries will place certain papers in the hands of the
district-attorney!"
Fougereuse trembled with fear and his teeth chattered as he stammeringly
said:
"I--do not--understand--you."
"Then listen. The papers are drafts whose signatures have been forged by
the Vicomte de Talizac, and which are in our hands."
"Drafts? Forged drafts? Impossible--my son is not a criminal!" cried the
marquis, desperately.
"Ask the vicomte," replied Velletri, coldly, and rising, he added:
"Marquis, I give you time to consider. As soon as you have made up your
mind, please be so kind as to let me know."
"One moment, count. Are your conditions unchangeable?"
"Perfectly so. Inside of the next five days the preliminary steps must
be taken in the Chamber of Peers--"
"I will do them to-morrow," cried the marquis, hastily.
"But only in case you are able to give the necessary guarantee. Marquis,
adieu!"
The Italian went away, and Fougereuse, entirely broken down, remained
behind.
He was still sitting thinking deeply, when Simon, who had remained
behind the curtain and overheard the interview, softly stepped forth,
and said:
"Courage, marquis; there is no reason for despair. Write to the pious
fathers that you will satisfy their demands within the required five
days."
"But I do not understand--"
"And yet it is very clear. Fanfaro is in prison--"
"Even so--he will not be condemned to death."
"If the judges do not kill him, there are other means."
"Other means?"
"Yes, my lord; the legacy of the Fougereuse will fall into your hands,
and then the cabinet position is sure."
"Simon, are you mad?"
"No, my lord. I will kill Fanfaro!"