Part 36 (1/2)
”Come, come, all this is very well if you were at liberty, or if you stood on the soil of your own country; but remember where you are now, and what accusations are hanging over you. I have here beside me very grave charges indeed,--constant and familiar intercourse with leaders of the Carbonari--”
”We don't know one of them,” broke in Billy.
”Correspondence with others beyond the frontier,” continued the Chevalier.
”Nor that either,” interrupted Billy.
”Treasonable placards found by the police in the very hands of the accused; insolent conduct to the authorities when arrested; attempted escape: all these duly certified on oath.”
”Devil may care for that; oaths are as plenty with these blaguards as clasp-knives, and for the same purpose too. Here's what it is, now,”
said he, crossing his arms on the table, and staring steadfastly at the other: ”we came here to study and work, to perfect ourselves in the art of modellin', with good studies around us; and, more than all, a quiet, secluded little spot, with nothing to distract our attention, or take us out of a mind for daily labor. That we made a mistake, is clear enough.
Like everywhere else in this fine country, there's nothing but tyrants on one side, and a.s.sa.s.sins on the other; and meek and humble as we lived, we could n't escape the thievin' blaguards of spies.”
”Do you know the handwriting of this address?” said the Chevalier, showing a sealed letter directed to Sebastiano Greppi, Sculptore, Carrara.
”Maybe I do, maybe I don't,” was the gruff reply. ”Won't you let me finish what I was savin'?”
”This letter was found in the possession of the young prisoner, and is of some consequence,” continued the other, totally inattentive to the question.
”I suppose a letter is always of consequence to him it's meant for,” was the half-sulky reply. ”Sure you 're not goin' to break the seal--sure you don't mean to read it!” exclaimed he, almost springing from his seat as he spoke.
”I don't think I'd ask your permission for anything I think fit to do, my worthy fellow,” said the other, sternly; and then, pa.s.sing across the room, he summoned a gendarme, who waited at the door, to enter.
”Take this man back to the Fortezza,” said he, calmly; and while Billy Traynor slowly followed the guard, the other seated himself leisurely at the table, lighted his candles, and perused the letter. Whether disappointed by the contents, or puzzled by the meaning, he sat long pondering with the doc.u.ment before him.
It was late in the night when a messenger came to say that his Highness desired to see him; and Stubber arose at once, and hastened to the Duke's chamber.
In a room studiously plain and simple in all its furniture, and on a low, uncurtained bed, lay the Prince, half dressed, a variety of books and papers littering the table, and even the floor at his side. Maps, prints, colored drawings,--some representing views of Swiss scenery, others being portraits of opera celebrities,--were mingled with illuminated missals and richly-embossed rosaries; while police reports, pet.i.tions, rose-colored billets and bon-bons, made up a ma.s.s of confusion wonderfully typical of the ill.u.s.trious individual himself.
Stubber had scarcely crossed the threshold of the room when he appeared to appreciate the exact frame of his master's mind. It was the very essence of his tact to catch in a moment the ruling impulse which swayed for a time that strange and vacillating nature, and he had but to glance at him to divine what was pa.s.sing within.
”So then,” broke out the Prince, ”here we are actually in the very midst of revolution. Marocchi has been stabbed in the Piazza of Carrara. Is it a thing to laugh at, sir?”
”The wound has only been fatal to the breast of his surtout, your Highness; and so adroitly given, besides, that it does not correspond with the incision in his waistcoat.”
”You distrust everyone and everything, Stubber; and, of course, you attribute all that is going forward to the police.”
”Of course I do, your Highness. They predict events with too much accuracy not to have a hand in their fulfilment. I knew three weeks ago when this outbreak was to occur, who was to be a.s.sa.s.sinated,--since that is the phrase for Marocchi's mock wound,--who was to be arrested, and the exact nature of the demand the Council would make of your Royal Highness to suppress the troubles.”
”And what was that?” asked the Duke, grasping a paper in his hand as he spoke.
”An Austrian division, with a half-battery of field-artillery, a judge-advocate to try the prisoners, and a provost-marshal to shoot them.”
”And you 'd have me believe that all these disturbances are deliberate plots of a party who desire Austrian influence in the Duchy?” cried the Duke, eagerly. ”There may be really something in what you suspect.
Here's a letter I have just received from La Sabloukoff,--she 's always keen-sighted; and _she_ thinks that the Court at Vienna is playing out here the game that they have not courage to attempt in Lombardy. What if this Wahnsdorf was a secret agent in the scheme, eh, Stubber?”
Stubber started with well-affected astonishment, and appeared as if astounded at the keen acuteness of the Duke's suggestion.
”Eh!” cried his Highness, in evident delight. ”That never occurred to _you_, Stubber? I'd wager there's not a man in the Duchy could have hit that plot but myself.”