Part 55 (1/2)

'It is, then, a good appointment,' said Gerald, taking the pen. 'But what is this? The Cardinal York has already signed this.'

In Caraffa's eagerness to play out his game he had forgotten this fact, and that the Irish bishops had always been submitted to the approval of his Royal Highness.

'I say, sir,' reiterated Gerald, 'here is the signature of my uncle.

What means this, or who really is it that makes these appointments?'

The Cardinal began with a sort of mumbled apology about a divided authority and an ecclesiastical function; but Gerald stopped him abruptly--

'If we are to play this farce out, let our parts be a.s.signed us; and let none a.s.sume that which is not his own. Take my word for it, Cardinal, that if the day comes when the English will carry me to the scaffold, at Smithfield or Tyburn, or wherever it be, you will not find any one so ready to be my subst.i.tute. There, sir, take your papers, and henceforth let there be no more mockeries of office. I will myself speak of this to my uncle.'

The Cardinal bowed submissively and moved toward the door.

'You will receive these gentlemen to-morrow?' said he interrogatively.

'To-morrow,' said Gerald, as he turned away.

The Cardinal bowed deeply, and retired. Scarcely, however, had his footsteps died out of hearing, when Gerald rang for his valet, and said--

'When these visitors retire for the night, follow the Signor Purcell to his room, and desire him to come here to me; do it secretly, and so that none may remark you.'

The valet bowed, and Gerald was once more alone.

It was near midnight when the door again opened, and Mr. Purcell was introduced. Making a low and deep obeisance, but without any other demonstration of deference for Gerald's rank, he stood patiently awaiting to be addressed.

'We have met before, sir,' said Gerald, flus.h.i.+ng deeply.

'So I perceive, sir,' was the quiet reply given with all the ease of one not easily abashed, 'and the last time was at a pleasant supper-table, of which we are the only survivors.'

'Indeed!' sighed Gerald sadly, and with some astonishment.

'Yes, sir; the ”Mountain” devoured the Girondists, and the reaction devoured the ”Mountain.” If the present people have not sent the _reactionnaires_ to the guillotine, it is because they prefer to make soldiers of them.'

'And how did you escape the perils of the time?' asked Gerald eagerly.

'Like Monsieur de Talleyrand sir, I always treated the party in disgrace as if their misfortune were but a pa.s.sing shadow, and that the day of their triumph was a.s.sured. For even this much of consideration men in adversity are grateful.'

'How heartily you must despise humanity!' burst out Gerald, more struck by the cold cynicism of the other's look than even by his words.

'Not so,' replied he, in a half careless tone; 'Jean Jacques expected too much; Diderot thought too little of men. The truth lies midway, and they are neither as good nor as bad as we deem them.'

'And now, what is your pursuit? what career do you follow?' asked Gerald abruptly.

'I have none, sir; the attraction that binds the ruined gambler to sit at the table and watch the game at which others are staking heavily, ties me to any enterprise wherein men are willing to risk much. I have seen so much high play in life, I cannot stand by petty ventures. They told me at Venice of the plot that was maturing here, and I agreed with old Sir Capel Crosbie to come over and hear about it.'

'You little suspected, perhaps, who was the hero of the adventure?' said Gerald half doubtingly.

'Nay, sir, I saw your picture, and recognised you at once.

'I never knew there had been a portrait of me!' cried Gerald, in astonishment.