THE SENATOR STILL ENGAGED IN FACING DOWN THE AUSTRIAN.--THE AMERICAN
CONSUL.--UNEXPECTED RE-APPEARANCE OF FORGOTTEN THINGS.--COLLAPSE OF
THE COURT.
The American Consul soon made his appearance. Not having had any
thing to do for months, the prospect of business gave wings to his
feet. Moreover, he felt a very natural desire to help a countryman
in trouble. Upon entering the hall he cast a rapid look around, and
seemed surprised at so august a tribunal. For in the General's martial
form he saw no less a person than the Austrian Commandant.
The Consul bowed and then looked at the prisoners. As his eye fell
upon the Senator it lighted up, and his face assumed an expression of
the most friendly interest. Evidently a recognition. The Austrian
Commandant addressed the Consul directly in German.
"Do you know the prisoners?"
"I know one of them."
"He is here under a very heavy accusation. I have well-substantiated
charges by which he is implicated in treason and conspiracy. He has
been connected with Revolutionists of the worst stamp in Florence,
and there is strong proof that he has come here to communicate with
Revolutionists in this city."
"Who accuses him of this? Are they here?"
"No, but they have written from Florence warning me of his journey
here."
"Does the prisoner confess?"
"Of course not. He denies. He requested me to send for you. I
don't want to be unjust, so if you have any thing to say, say on."
"These charges are impossible."
"Impossible?"
"He is altogether a different man from what you suppose. He is an
eminent member of the American Senate. Any charges made against
one like him will have to be well substantiated; and any injury
done to him will be dangerous in the highest degree. Unless you
have undeniable proofs of his guilt it will be best to free him
at once--or else--"
"Or else what?"
"Or else there will be very grave complications."
The Commandant looked doubtful. The others impassive. Buttons and
Dick interested. The Senator calm. Again the Commandant turned to
the Senator, his remarks being interpreted as before.
"How does it happen that you were so particularly intimate with
all the Revolutionists in Florence, and an habitué of _La Cica_'s
salon? that your mission was well known throughout the city? That
you publicly acknowledged the Florentine rebellion in a speech?
that the people carried you home in triumph? and that immediately
before leaving you received private instructions from _La Cica_?"
"To your questions," said the Senator, with unabated dignity, "I
will reply in brief: _First_, I am a free and independent citizen
of the great and glorious American Republic. If I associated with
Revolutionists in Florence, I did so because I am accustomed to
choose my own society, and not to recognize any law or any master
that can forbid my doing so. I deny, however, that I was in any way
connected with plots, rebellions, or conspiracies. _Secondly_, I was
friendly with the Countess because I considered her a most remarkably
fine woman, and because she showed a disposition to be friendly with
me--a stranger in a strange land. _Thirdly_, I have no mission of
any kind whatever. I am a traveller for self-improvement. I have no
business political or commercial. So that my mission could not have
been known. If people talked about me they talked nonsense.
_Fourthly_, I confess I made a speech, but what of that? It's not
the first time, by a long chalk. I don't know what you mean by
'acknowledging.' As a private citizen I congratulated them on their
success, and would do so again. If a crowd calls on me for a speech,
I'm thar! The people of Florence dragged me home in a carriage. Well,
I don't know why they did so. I can't help it if people will take
possession of me and pull me about. _Fifthly_, and lastly, I had an
interview with the Countess, had I? Well, is it wrong for a man to
bid good-bye to a friend? I ask you, what upon earth do you mean by
such a charge as that? Do you take me for a puling infant?"
"On that occasion," said the Commandant, "she taught you some
mysterious words which were to be repeated among the Revolutionists
here."
"Never did any thing of the kind. That's a complete full-blown
fiction."
"I have the very words."
"That's impossible. You've got hold of the wrong man I see."
"I will have them read," said the General, solemnly.
And he beckoned to the Interpreter. Whereupon the Interpreter
gravely took out a formidable roll of papers from his breast, and
opened it. Every gesture was made as though his hand was heavy with
the weight of crushing proof. At last a paper was produced.
The Interpreter took one look at the prisoner, then glanced
triumphantly at the Consul, and said:
"It is a mysterious language with no apparent meaning, nor have I
been able to find the key to it in any way. It is very skillfully
made, for all the usual tests of cipher writing fail in this. The
person who procured it did not get near enough till the latter part
of the interview, so that he gained no explanation whatever from the
conversation."
"Read," said the Commandant. The Senator waited, wonderingly. The
Interpreter read:
"_Ma ouillina sola ouda ste ensoce fremas dis ansit ansin assalef a
oue lu affa lastinna belis_."
Scarcely had the first words been uttered in the Italian voice of
the reader than the Senator started as though a shot had struck him.
His face flushed. Finally a broad grin spread itself over his
countenance, and down his neck, and over his chest, and over his
form, and into his boots, till at last his whole colossal frame
shook with an earthquake of laughter.
The Commandant stared and looked uneasy, All looked at the Senator
--all with amazement--the General, the Interpreter, the Officials,
the Guards, Buttons, Dick, and the American Consul.
"Oh dear! Oh _de-ar_! Oh DEEE-AR!" cried the Senator, in the
intervals of his outrageous peals of laughter. "OH!" and a new peal
followed.
What did all this mean? Was he crazy? Had misfortunes turned his
brain?
But at last the Senator, who was always remarkable for his
self-control, recovered himself. He asked the Commandant if he might
be permitted to explain.
"Certainly," said the Commandant, dolefully. He was afraid that
the thing would take a ridiculous turn, and nothing is so terrible
as that to an Austrian official.
"Will you allow me to look at the paper?" asked the Senator. "I will
not injure it at all."
The Interpreter politely carried it to him as the Commandant nodded.
The Senator beckoned to the Consul. They then walked up to the
Commandant. All four looked at the paper.
"You see, gentlemen," said the Senator, drawing a lead pencil from
his pocket, "the Florence correspondent has been too sharp. I can
explain all this at once. I was with the Countess, and we got
talking of poetry. Now, I don't know any more about poetry than a
horse."
"Well?"
"Well, she insisted on my making a quotation. I had to give in.
The only one I could think of was a line or two from Watts."
"_Watts_? Ah! I don't know him," said the Interpreter.
"He was a minister--a parson."
"Ah!"
"So I said it to her, and she repeated it. These friends of yours,
General, have taken it down, but their spellin' is a little
unusual," said the Senator, with a tremendous grin that threatened
a new outburst.
"Look. Here is the true-key which this gentleman tried so hard to
find."
And taking his pencil the Senator wrote under the strange words
the true meaning:
"My willing soul would stay
In such a frame as this,
And sit and sing herself away
To everlasting bliss."
The Interpreter saw it all. He looked profoundly foolish. The whole
thing was clear. The Senator's innocence was plain. He turned to
explain to the Commandant. The Consul's face exhibited a variety
of expressions, over which a broad grimace finally predominated,
like sunshine over an April sky. In a few words the whole was made
plain to the Commandant. He looked annoyed, glared angrily at the
Interpreter, tossed the papers on the floor, and rose to his feet.
[Illustration: Watts Mis-spelled.]
"Give these gentlemen our apologies," said he to the Interpreter.
"In times of trouble, when States have to be held subject to
martial law, proceedings are abrupt. Their own good sense will, I
trust, enable them to appreciate the difficulty of our position.
They are at liberty."
At liberty! No sooner were the words spoken than the prisoners
bowed and left, in company with the Consul, who eagerly shook
hands with all three--particularly the Senator, who, as they were
leaving, was heard to whisper something in which these words were
audible:
"Wa'al, old hoss! The American eagle showed it claws, anyhow."