CHAPTER LXVII. A MESSAGE.

  While Rodin sat plunged in ambitious reverie, contemplating the portraitof Sixtus V., good little Father Caboccini, whose warm embraces hadso much irritated the first mentioned personage, went secretly toFaringhea, to deliver to him a fragment of an ivory crucifix, andsaid to him with his usual air of jovial good-nature: "His ExcellencyCardinal Malipieri, on my departure from Rome, charged me to give youthis only on the 31st of May."

  The half-caste, who was seldom affected by anything, started abruptly,almost with an expression of pain. His face darkened, and bending uponthe little father a piercing look, he said to him: "You were to addsomething."

  "True," replied Father Caboccini; "the words I was to add are these:'There is many a slip 'twixt the cup and the lip.'"

  "It is well," said the other. Heaving a deep sigh, he joined thefragment of the ivory crucifix to a piece already in his possession; itfitted exactly.

  Father Caboccini looked at him with curiosity, for the cardinal had onlytold him to deliver the ivory fragment to Faringhea, and to repeat theabove words. Being somewhat mystified with all this, the reverend fathersaid to the half-caste: "What are you going to do with that crucifix?"

  "Nothing," said Faringhea, still absorbed in painful thought.

  "Nothing?" resumed the reverend father, in astonishment. "What, then,was the use of bringing it so far?"

  Without satisfying his curiosity, Faringhea replied: "At what hour tomorrow does Father Rodin go to the Rue Saint Francois?"

  "Very early."

  "Before leaving home, he will go to say prayers in the chapel?"

  "Yes, according to the habit of our reverend fathers."

  "You sleep near him?"

  "Being his socius, I occupy the room next to his."

  "It is possible," said Faringhea, after a moment's silence, "that thereverend father, full of the great interests which occupy his mind,might forget to go to the chapel. In that case, pray remind him of thispious duty."

  "I shall not fail."

  "Pray do not fail," repeated Faringhea, anxiously.

  "Be satisfied," said the good little father; "I see that you take greatinterest in his salvation."

  "Great interest."

  "It is very praiseworthy in you. Continue as you have begun, and youmay one day belong, completely to our Company," said Father Caboccini,affectionately.

  "I am as yet but a poor auxiliary member," said Faringhea, humbly; "butno one is more devoted to the Society, body and soul. Bowanee is nothingto it."

  "Bowanee! who is that, my good friend?"

  "Bowanee makes corpses which rot in the ground. The Society makescorpses which walk about."

  "Ah, yes! Perinde ac cadaver--they were the last words of our greatsaint, Ignatius de Loyola. But who is this Bowanee?"

  "Bowanee is to the Society what a child is to a man," replied theAsiatic, with growing excitement. "Glory to the Company--glory! Were myfather its enemy, I would kill my father. The man whose genius inspiresme most with admiration, respect, and terror--were he its enemy, I wouldkill, in spite of all," said the half-caste, with an effort. Then, aftera moment's silence, he looked full in Caboccini's face, and added: "Isay this, that you may report my words to Cardinal Malipieri, and beghim to mention them to--"

  Faringhea stopped short. "To whom should the cardinal mention yourwords?" asked Caboccini.

  "He knows," replied the half-caste, abruptly. "Good night!"

  "Good-night, my friend! I can only approve of your excellent sentimentswith regard to our Company. Alas! it is in want of energetic defenders,for there are said to be traitors in its bosom."

  "For those," said Faringhea, "we must have no pity."

  "Certainly," said the good little father; "we understand one another."

  "Perhaps," said the half-caste. "Do not, at all events, forget to remindFather Rodin to go to chapel to-morrow morning."

  "I will take care of that," said Father Caboccini.

  The two men parted. On his return to the house, Caboccini learned thata courier, only arrived that night from Rome, had brought despatches toRodin.