Part 51 (1/2)
”You did not argue in that fas.h.i.+on two years ago, when you were going to marry a Spanish princess, and the half-sister of a queen.”
”Well, I have never regretted that I broke off the match. It estranged me, of course, from _him_; and indeed he has never forgiven me.”
”He might, however, now, if he saw that you could establish your fortunes so favorably,--don't you think so?”
”No, Carlo. It is all for rank and t.i.tle, not for money, that he cares!
His whole game in life was played for the Peerage. He wanted to be 'My Lord;' and though repeatedly led to believe he was to have the t.i.tle, the Minister put off, and put off, and at last fell from power without keeping his pledge. Now in this Spanish business he bargained that I was to be a Duke,--a Grandee of Spain. The Queen declared it impossible.
Mufios himself was refused. The dukedom, however, I could have. With the glitter of that ducal coronet before his eyes, he paid three hundred thousand francs I lost at the Jockey Club in Paris, and he merely said, 'Your luck in love has been somewhat costly,--don't play such high stakes again.'”
”He is _tres grand seigneur!_” said the Italian, with a voice of intense admiration and respect.
”Yes,” said Maitland; ”in every case where mere money enters, he is princely. I never met a man who thought less of his gold. The strange thing is, that it is his ambition which exhibits him so small!”
”Adagio, adagio, caro mio!” cried Caffarelli, laughing. ”I see where you are bound for now. You are going to tell me, as you have some score of times, that to all English estimation our foreign t.i.tles are sheer nonsense; that our pauper counts and beggarly dukes are laughing matter for even your Manchester folk; and that in your police code baron and blackleg are synonyms. Now spare me all this, _caro_ Maitland, for I know it by heart.”
”If one must say such impertinences, it is well to say them to a cardinal's nephew.”
The slight flush of temper in the Italian's cheek gave way at once, and he asked good-humoredly, as he said, ”Better say them to me, certainly, than to my uncle. But, to be practical, if he does attach so much importance to rank and t.i.tle, why do you not take that counts.h.i.+p of Amalfi the King offered you six months ago, and which, to this day, he is in doubt whether you have accepted or refused?”
”How do you know that?” asked Maitland, eagerly.
”I know it in this wise; that when his Majesty mentioned your name t'
other day to Filangieri, he said, 'The Chevalier Maitland or Count of Amalfi,--I don't know by which name he likes to call himself.'”
”Are you sure of this?”
”I heard it; I was present when he said it.”
”If I did not accept when it was offered, the reason was this: I thought that the first time I wrote myself Count of Amalfi, old Santarelli would summon me before him to show birth and parentage, and fifty other particulars which I could have no wish to see inquired after; and as the t.i.tle of Amalfi was one once borne by a cadet of the royal family, he 'd have been all the more exacting in his perquisitions before inscribing my name in that precious volume he calls the 'Libro d'Oro.' If, however, you tell me that the King considers that I have accepted the rank, it gives the matter another aspect.”
”I suspect poor old Santarelli has very little heart for heraldry just now. He has got a notion that the first man the Revolutionists will hang will be himself, representing, as he does, all the privileges of feudalism.”
”There is one way to do it if it could be managed,” said Maitland, pondering. ”Three lines in the King's hand, addressing me 'The Chevalier Maitland, Count of Amalfi!' With these I 'd defy all the heralds that ever carried a painted coat in a procession.”
”If that be all, I 'll promise you it. I am writing to Filangieri to-morrow. Let me have some details of what men you have recruited and what services you have rendered, briefly, not formally; and I'll say, 'If our master would vouchsafe in his own hand a line, a word even, to the Count of Amalfi, it would be a recompense he would not exchange for millions.' I 'll say 'that the letter could be sent to Ludolf at Turin, where we shall probably be in a week or two. '”
”And do you think the King will accede?”
”Of course he will. We are not asking for a pension, or leave to shoot at Caserta. The thing is the same as done. Kings like a cheap road out of their indebtedness as well as humbler people. If not, they would never have invented crosses and grand cordons.”
”Now, let us concoct the thing regularly,” said Maitland, pus.h.i.+ng the decanters from before him, as though, by a gesture, to show that he had turned from all conviviality to serious considerations. ”You,” continued he, ”will, first of all, write to Filangieri.”
”Yes. I will say, half incidentally, as it were, Maitland is here with me, as eager as the warmest of us in the cause. He has been eminently successful in his recruitment, of which he will soon send you details--”
”Ay, but how? That fellow M'Caskey, who has all the papers, did not meet me as I ordered him, and I cannot tell where he is.”
”I am to blame for this, Maitland, for I ordered him to come over here, as the most certain of all ways of seeing you.”
”And he is here now?”