BALSAMO AT HOME.
The house in St. Claude Street, to which Joseph Balsamo invited the
Cardinal Prince of Rohan did not look strange in his day, but it
resembled a fortress to such an extent that it would be remarkable at
present. Strongly built, and with barred windows and grated doors, to
say nothing of the ditch in front and high balconies, it was in keeping
with this part of the town, pretty unsafe at this epoch after dark.
There were scarcely a dozen houses on the quarter of a league to the
Bastille, and the municipal authorities did not think it worth while to
supply lamps. Along this deserted and unlighted highway a carriage was
driven after nine one evening, which stopped at the low, deep doorway
where gleamed the brazen griffin for a knocker which Count Fenix had
described.
The arms of the nobleman were on the carriage panels. He preceded it by
some yards, riding Djerid, who whisked his long tail till it whistled
in the dust of the dirty pavement.
Behind the closed blinds slumbered Lorenza on the cushions.
At the rolling of the wheels, the door opened as by enchantment, and
the carriage vanished in the black gulf of the mansion courtyard.
There was no need of any mystery, for nobody was about to see the count
come home or mark what he brought, even if it were the treasure-chest
of St. Denis Abbey.
A skillful calculator, given the size of the building lot and that of
the house on street, would be surprised how so small a one covered so
much ground. The fact of the matter was that there stood a house behind
the outer house, known only to the tenant.
A German servant, aged about thirty; closed the coachway door and
bolted it. Opening the coach door while the emotionless driver
unharnessed the team, he drew from within the senseless Lorenza, whom
he carried indoors to an antechamber. He laid her on a table and
discreetly wrapped her in her long veil to the feet.
He went out to light at the coach lamps a seven-candle chandelier, with
which he came back.
During that short space, Lorenza had disappeared.
In fact Count Fenix had entered after the valet went out. He had taken
up the girl in his arms, and carried her out by a secret passage into
a room furnished with trophies of outlandish weapons.
With his foot he pressed the spring of the backplate of the high
fireplace, which turned on well-oiled hinges, so that the count could
go forth, as he did, while the secret panel slid to behind him.
On the other side of the chimney was another flight of steps. Mounting
a dozen, covered with Utrecht velvet carpet, he reached the sill of a
room elegantly tapestried with satin, so wonderfully embroidered in
high relief with flowers in their natural colors that they seemed real.
The extremely rich furniture was of a boudoir and toilet chamber
leading to a parlor.
Curtains hid two windows, but as it was night, they were not wanted to
give light. Lamps burning perfumed oil burnt here night and day, for
the room had no external openings. They were drawn up through apertures
in the ceiling by unseen hands when they needed replenishing.
Not a sound penetrated here, and one might feel as a thousand miles
out of the world. But gilding flashed on all sides and Bohemian glass
mirrors sparkled as, dissatisfied with the light, after having placed
Lorenza on a sofa, the count struck a fire with the silver phosphorus
matchbox so startling to Gilbert, and kindled two pink candled
chandeliers on the mantel-piece.
Returning to Lorenza, and kneeling with one knee on a pile of cushions
beside her, he called her by name. Though her eyes remained closed, she
rose on one elbow, but without replying.
"Are you sleeping naturally or through the magnetic spell?"
"Lorenza sleeps in the magnetic sleep," she replied.
"Then you can answer my questions. Look into the room of the Princess
Louise which we have just quitted, and tell me if the Cardinal of Rohan
is there."
"No; the abbess is praying before going to rest."
"Look through the house for the cardinal. Is his carriage at the door?
Is it on the road? Come along nearer to Paris, as we drove. Nearer!"
"Ah, I see it! It has stopped at the tollbar. A footman gets down to
speak with his master."
"List to him, Lorenza, for it is important that I should know what the
cardinal says to this man."
"You did not order me to listen in time, for he has done speaking to
the man. But the man speaks to the coachman, who is told to drive to
St. Claude Street, in the swamp, by the rampart road."
"Thank you, Lorenza."
The count went to the wall, pulled aside an ornament which disclosed an
ivory mouthpiece and spoke some words in a tube of unknown length and
direction; it was his way of corresponding here with his man of trust,
Fritz.
"Are you content with me?" asked the medium.
"Yes, dear Lorenza, and here is your reward," he said, giving her a
fond caress.
"Oh, Joseph, how I love you!" she said with an almost painful sigh.
Her arms opened to enfold Balsamo on her heart.