Part 25 (1/2)
The Cardinal gave a gesture of courteous deprecation; and Monsignor Moretti, lifting his, till then, partially lowered eyelids, flashed an angry regard upon the Abbe Vergniaud, who resting his back against the book-case behind him, met his glance with the most perfect composure.
Close to him stood his son and would-be murderer Cyrillon,--his dark handsome face rendered even handsomer by the wistful and softened expression of his eyes, which ever and anon rested upon his father with a look of mingled wonder and respect. There was a brief silence--of a few seconds at most,--and then Moretti spoke again in a voice which thrilled with pent-up indignation, but which he endeavoured to render calm and clear as he addressed the Cardinal.
”Your Eminence is without doubt aware of the cause of my visit to you.
If, as I understand, your Eminence was present at Notre Dame de Lorette this morning, and witnessed the regrettable conduct of the faithless son of the Church here present--”
”Pardon! This is my affair.” interposed Vergniaud, stepping forward, ”His Eminence, Cardinal Bonpre, is not at all concerned in the matter of the difficult dispute which has arisen between me and my own conscience. You call me faithless, Monsignor,--will you explain what you mean by 'faithless' under these present conditions of argument?”
”It shows the extent and hopelessness of your retrogression from all good that you should presume to ask such a question,” answered Moretti, growing white under the natural darkness of his skin with an impotency of rage he could scarcely suppress, ”Your sermon this morning was an open attack on the Church, and the amazing scene at its conclusion is a scandal to Christianity!”
”The attack on the Church I admit,” said the Abbe quietly, ”I am not the only preacher in the world who has so attacked it. Christ Himself would attack it if He were to visit this earth again!”
Moretti turned angrily towards the Cardinal.
”Your Eminence permits this blasphemy to be uttered in your presence?”
he demanded.
”Nay, wherever and whenever I perceive blasphemy, my son, I shall reprove it,” said the Cardinal, fixing his mild eyes steadily on Moretti's livid countenance, ”I cannot at present admit that our unhappy and repentant brother here has blasphemed. In his address to his congregation to-day he denounced social hypocrisy, and also pointed out certain failings in the Church which may possibly need consideration and reform; but against the Gospel of Christ, or against the Founder of our Faith I heard no word that could be judged ill-fitting. As for the conclusion which so very nearly ended in disaster and crime, there is nothing to be said beyond the fact that both the persons concerned are profoundly sorry for their sins.”
”No sorrow can wipe out such infamy--” began Moretti hotly.
”Patience! Patience, my son!” and the Cardinal raised his hand with a slight gesture of authority, ”Surely we must believe the words of our Blessed Lord, 'There is more joy in Heaven over one sinner that repenteth than over ninety and nine just persons which have no need of repentance'!”
”And on this old and well-worn phrase you excuse a confessed heretic?”
said Moretti, with a sneer.
”This old and well-worn phrase is the saying of our Master,” answered the Cardinal firmly, ”And it is as true as the truth of the suns.h.i.+ne which, in its old and well-worn way, lights up this world gloriously every morning! I would stake my very life on the depth and the truth of Vergniaud's penitence! Who, seeing and knowing the brand of disgrace he has voluntarily burnt into his own social name and honour, could doubt his sincerity, or refuse to raise him up, even as our Lord would have done, saying, 'Thy sins be forgiven thee! Go, and sin no more!'?”
Moretti's furtive eyes disappeared for a moment under his discoloured eyelids, which quivered rapidly like the throbbings in the throat of an angry snake. Before he could speak again however, Vergniaud interposed.
”Why trouble His Eminence with my crimes or heresies?” he said quietly, ”I am grateful to him from my soul for his gentleness and charity of judgment--but I need no defence--not even from him. I am answerable to G.o.d alone!--neither to Church nor Creed! It was needful that I should speak as I spoke to-day--”
”Needful to scandalize the Church?” demanded Moretti sharply.
”The Church is not scandalized by a man who confesses himself an unworthy member of it!” returned Vergniaud, ”It is better to tell the truth and go out of the Church than to remain in it as a liar and a hypocrite.”
”According to your own admission you have been a liar and a hypocrite for twenty-five years!” said Moretti bitterly, ”You should have made your confession before, and have made it privately. There is something unnatural and reprehensible in the sudden blazon you have made to the public of your gross immorality.”
”'A sudden blazon' you call it,--” said the Abbe, ”Well, perhaps it is!
But murder will out, no matter how long it is kept in. You are not entirely aware of my position, Monseigneur. Have you the patience to hear a full explanation?”
”I have the patience to hear because it is my duty to hear,” replied Moretti frigidly, ”I am bound to convey the whole of this matter to His Holiness.”
”True! That is your duty, and who shall say it is not also your pleasure!” and Vergniaud smiled a little. ”Well!--Convey to His Holiness the news that I, Denis Vergniaud, am a dying man, and that knowing myself to be in that condition, and that two years at the utmost, is my extent of life on this planet, I have taken it seriously into my head to consider as to whether I am fit to meet death with a clean conscience. Death, Monsignor, admits of no lying, no politeness, no elegant sophistries! Now, the more I have considered, the more I am aware of my total unfitness to confront whatever may be waiting for me in the Afterwards of death--(for without doubt there is an afterwards,)--and being conscious of having done at least one grave injury to an innocent person, I have taken the best and quickest way to make full amends. I wronged a woman--this boy's mother--” and he indicated with a slight gesture Cyrillon, who had remained a silent witness of the scene,--”and the boy himself from early years set his mind and his will to avenge his mother's dishonour. I--the chief actor in the drama,--am thus responsible for a woman's misery and shame; and am equally responsible for the murderous spirit which has animated one, who without this feeling, would have been a promising fellow enough.
The woman I wronged, alas!--is dead, and I cannot reinstate her name, save in an open acknowledgment of her child, my son. I do acknowledge him,--I acknowledge him in your presence, and therefore virtually in the presence of His Holiness. I thus help to remove the stigma I myself set on his name. Plainly speaking, Monsignor, we men have no right whatever to launch human beings into the world with the 'bar sinister'
branded upon them. We have no right, if we follow Christ, to do anything that may injure or cause trouble to any other creature. We have no right to be hasty in our judgment, even of sin.”
”Sin is sin,--and demands punishment--” interrupted Moretti.
”You quote the law of Moses, Monsignor! I speak with the premise 'if'.