Part 33 (1/2)
”A very patriotic festival, and the inauguration of the banner particularly will be a glorious affair!” exclaimed Count Saurau.
”What a pity that my sickness should prevent me from attending it!”
He saluted the prime minister once more and withdrew. When the door had closed behind him the smile disappeared from Thugut's features, and a gloomy cloud settled on his brow. Folding his arms on his back, and absorbed in deep thought, he commenced slowly pacing the room. ”The interview with the empress must be prevented at all events,” he muttered, after a long pause, ”even if all diplomatic relations with France have to be broken off for that purpose. Besides, I must have those papers which he wanted to deliver to the empress; my repose, my safety depends upon it. Oh, I know very well what sort of papers they are with which they are threatening me. They are the letters I had written in cipher to Burton, the English emissary, whom the French Directory a month ago caused to be arrested as a spy and demagogue at Paris, and whose papers were seized at the same time. Those letters, of course, would endanger my position, for there is a receipt among them for a hundred thousand guineas paid to me. What a fool I was to write that receipt! I must get it again, and I am determined to have it!”
A few hours later, an emaciated, pale man was conducted into the room of Prime Minister Baron Thugut. The minister received him with a friendly nod, and looked with a smiling countenance at this sick, downcast, and suffering man, whom he had seen only a year ago so bold and courageous at the head of the misguided rioters.
”You have greatly changed, Mr. Wenzel,” he said, kindly. ”The prison air seems not to agree with you.”
Wenzel made no reply, but dropped his head with a profound sigh on his breast.
”Ah, ah, Mr. Wenzel,” said Thugut, smiling, ”it seems your eloquence is gone, too.”
”I have formerly spoken too much; hence I am now so taciturn,” muttered the pale man.
”Every thing has its time, speaking as well as silence,” said Thugut.
”It is true speaking has rendered you very wretched; it has made you guilty of high treason. Do you know how long you will have to remain in prison?”
”I believe for fifteen years,” said Wenzel, with a shudder.
”Fifteen years! that is half a lifetime. But it does not change such demagogues and politicians as you, sir. As soon as you are released you recommence your seditious work, and you try to make a martyr's crown of your well-merited punishment. Traitors like you are always incorrigible, and unless they are gagged for life they always cry out anew and stir up insurrection and disorder.”
Wenzel fixed his haggard eyes with a sorrowful expression upon the minister.
”I shall never stir up insurrections again, nor raise my voice in public as I used to do,” he said, gloomily. ”I have been cured of it forever, but it was a most sorrowful cure.”
”And it will last a good while yet, Mr. Wenzel.”
”Yes, it will last dreadfully long,” sighed the wretched man.
”Are you married? Have you got any children?”
”Yes, I have a wife and two little girls--two little angels. Ah, if I could only see them once more in my life!”
”Wait yet for fourteen years; you can see them then if they be still alive, and care about having you back.”
”I shall not live fourteen years,” murmured the pale, downcast man.
”Well, listen to me, Mr. Wenzel. What would you do if I should set you at liberty?”
”At liberty?” asked the man, almost in terror. ”At liberty!” he shouted then, loudly and jubilantly.
”Yes, sir, at liberty! But you must do something in order to deserve it.
Will you do so?”
”I will do every thing, every thing I am ordered to do, if I am to be set at liberty, if I am allowed to see my wife and my little girls again!” shouted Wenzel, trembling with delight.
”Suppose I should order you again to become a popular orator and to stir up a nice little riot?”
The gleam of joy disappeared again from Wenzel's eyes, and he looked almost reproachfully at the minister. ”You want to mock me,” he said, mournfully.