Part 55 (2/2)

_B._ That's all right. You cannot be too much underground; in fact, the two first, and the best part of the third volume, should be wholly in the bowels of the earth, and your hero and heroine should never _come to light_ until the last chapter.

_A._ Then they would never have been born till then, and how could I marry them? But still I have adhered pretty much to your idea; and, Barnstaple, I have such a heroine--such a love--she has never seen her sweetheart, yet she is most devotedly attached, and has suffered more for his sake than any mortal could endure.

_B._ Most heroines generally do.

_A._ I have had her into various dungeons for three or four years, on black bread and a broken pitcher of water--she has been starved to death--lain for months and months upon wet straw--had two brain fevers--five times has she risked violation, and always has picked up, or found in the belt of her infamous ravishers, a stiletto, which she has plunged into their hearts, and they have expired with or without a groan.

_B._ Excellent: and of course comes out of her dungeons each time as fresh, as sweet, as lovely, as pure, as charming, and as constant as ever.

_A._ Exactly; nothing can equal her infinite variety of adventure, and her imperishable beauty and unadhesive cleanliness of person; and, as for lives, she has more than a thousand cats. After nine months'

confinement in a dungeon, four feet square, when it is opened for her release, the air is perfumed with the ambrosia which exhales from her sweet person.

_B._ Of course it does. The only question is, what ambrosia smells like.

But let me know something about your hero.

_A._ He is a prince and a robber.

_B._ The two professions are not at all incompatible. Go on.

_A._ He is the chief of a band of robbers, and is here, there, and everywhere. He fills all Europe with terror, admiration, and love.

_B._ Very good.

_A._ His reasons for joining the robbers are, of course, a secret (and upon my word they are equally a secret to myself); but it is wonderful the implicit obedience of his men, and the many acts of generosity of which he is guilty. I make him give away a great deal more money than his whole band ever take, which is so far awkward, that the query may arise in what way he keeps them together, and supplies them with food and necessaries.

_B._ Of course with _I O U's_ upon his princely domains.

_A._ I have some very grand scenes, amazingly effective; for instance, what do you think, at the moment after the holy ma.s.s has been performed in St Peter's at Rome, just as the pope is about to put the sacred wafer into his mouth and bless the whole world, I make him s.n.a.t.c.h the wafer out of the pope's hand, and get clear off with it.

_B._ What for, may I ask?

_A._ That is a secret which I do not reveal. The whole arrangement of that part of the plot is admirable. The band of robbers are disguised as priests, and officiate, without being found out.

_B._ But isn't that rather sacrilegious?

_A._ No; it appears so to be, but he gives his reasons for his behaviour to the pope, and the pope is satisfied, and not only gives him his blessing, but shows him the greatest respect.

_B._ They must have been very weighty reasons.

_A._ And therefore they are not divulged.

_B._ That is to say, not until the end of the work.

_A._ They are never divulged at all; I leave a great deal to the reader's imagination--people are fond of conjecture. All they know is, that he boldly appears, and demands an audience. He is conducted in, the interview is private, after a sign made by our hero, and at which the pope almost leaps off his chair. After an hour he comes out again, and the pope bows him to the very door. Every one is astonished, and, of course, almost canonise him.

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