CHAPTER XI. AN AUDIENCE

  Within less than half an hour after his arrival at home, Massinireceived an order from the Cardinal to repair to the palace. It wasa verbal message, and couched in terms to make the communication seemscarcely important.

  Massoni smiled as he prepared to obey; it amused him to think, that in agame of craft and subtlety his Eminence should dare to confront him, andyet this was evidently his policy.

  The Cardinal's carriage stood ready horsed in the courtyard as the Perepassed through, and a certain air of impatience in the servants showedthat the time of departure had been inconveniently delayed.

  'That thunder-storm will break over us before we are half way across theCampagna,' cried one.

  'We were ordered for one, and it is now past three, and though thehorses were taken from their feed to get in readiness, here we arestill.'

  'And all because a Jesuit is at his devotions!'

  The look of haughty rebuke Massoni turned upon them as he caught thesewords, made them shrink back abashed and terrified; and none knew whennor in what shape might come the punishment for this insolence.

  'You have forgotten an appointment, Pere Massoni,' said the Cardinal asthe other entered his chamber, with a deep and respectful reverence, 'anappointment too, of your own making. There is an opinion abroad, that weCardinals are men of leisure, whose idle hours are at the discretion ofall; I had hoped, that to this novel theory the Pere Massoni would nothave been a convert.'

  'Nor am I, your Eminence. It would ill become one who wears such a frockas this to deny the rights of discipline and the benefits of obedience.'

  'But you are late, sir?'

  'If I am so, your Eminence will pardon me when I give the reason. Theentire of last night was passed by me in watching for the arrival of acertain youth, who did not come till nigh daybreak, and even then, soill, so worn out and exhausted, that I have been in constant care of himever since.'

  'And he is come--he is actually here,' cried the Cardinal eagerly.

  'He is, at this moment, in the college.'

  'How have you been able to authenticate his identity,--the rumour goesthat he died years ago?'

  'It is a somewhat entangled skein, your Eminence, but will stand thetest of unravelment. Intervals there are, indeed, in his story, unfilledup; lapses of time, in which I am left to mere conjecture, but hiscareer is traceable throughout; and I can track him from the days inwhich he stood an acolyte beside our altars to the hour we now talk in.'

  'It is to your sanguine hopes you have been listening rather than coldreason, Pere.'

  'Look at me, Eminence--scan me well, and say, do I look like those whoare slaves to their own enthusiasm?'

  'The strongest currents are often calm on the surface.'

  The Pere sighed heavily, but did not answer.

  'The youth himself, too, may have aided the delusion: he is, probably,one well suited to inspire interest: in a varied and adventurous life,men of this stamp acquire, amid their other worldly gifts, a marvellouspower of persuasiveness.'

  The Pere smiled half sadly.

  'You would tell me, by that smile, Pere Massoni, that you are not to bethe victim of such seductions; that you understand mankind in a spiritthat excludes such error.'

  'Far be it from me to indulge such boastfulness,' said the other meekly.

  'At all events,' said the Cardinal, half peevishly, 'he who has courageand ambition enough to play this game is, doubtless, a fellow ofinfinite resource and readiness, and will have, at least, plausibilityon his side.'

  'Would that it were so!' exclaimed Massoni eagerly.

  'What do you mean by that?'

  'Would that he were one who could boldly assert his own proud cause,and vindicate his own high claims; would that he had come through theterrible years of his suffering life with a spirit hardened by trials,and a courage matured by exercise; would, above all, that he had notcome from the conflict broken in health, shattered and down-stricken!Ay, sir, this youth of bold pretensions, of winning manners, andpersuasive gifts is a poor fellow so stunned by calamity as to behelpless!'

  'Is he dying?' cried the Cardinal with intense anxiety.

  'It were as well to die as live what he now is!' said the Pere solemnly.

  'Have the doctors seen him?--has Fabrichette been with him?'

  'No, sir. It is no case for their assistance, my own poor skill canteach me so much. His is the malady of the wounded spirit and theinjured mind.'

  'Is his reason affected?' asked Caraffa quickly.

  'I trust not; but it is a case where time and care can be the onlyphysicians.'

  'And so, therefore, falls to the ground the grand edifice you have solong been rearing. The great foundation itself is rotten.'

  'He may recover, sir,' said Massoni slowly.

  'To what end, I ask you, to what end?'

  'At least to claim a princely heritage,' said Massoni boldly.

  'Who says so?--of what heritage do you speak? You are surely too wise toput faith in the idle stories men repeat of this or that legacy left bythe late Prince.'

  'I know enough, sir, to be sure that I speak on good authority; and Irepeat that when this youth can prove his descent, he is the rightfulheir to a royal fortune. It may be, that he will have higher and noblerambitions: he may feel that a great cause is ever worthy a great effort;that the son of a prince cannot accept life on the same humble terms asother men. In short, sir, it may chance that the dream of a poor Jesuitfather should become a grand reality.'

  'If all be but as real as the heritage, Massoni,' said the Cardinalscoffingly, 'you called it by its true name, when you said "dream."'

  'Have you, then, not heard of this legacy?'

  'Heard of it! Yes: all Rome heard of it; and, for that matter, his RoyalHighness may have left him St. James's and the royal forest of Windsor.'

  'Your Eminence, then, doubts that there was anything to bequeath?'

  'There is no need to canvass what I _doubt_. I 'll tell you what I_know_. The rent of the Altieri for the last two years is still unpaid;the servants at Albano have not received their wages, and the royalplate is at this moment pledged in the hands of the Jew Alcaico.'

  The Pere was silent. The sole effect these stunning tidings had on himwas to speculate to what end and with what object the Cardinal said allthis. It was not the language he had used a short hour ago with Kelly.Whence, therefore, this change of tone? Why did he now disparage theprospects he had then upheld so highly? These were questions not easilysolved in a moment, and Massoni pondered them deeply. The Cardinalhad begun with hinting doubts of the youth's identity, and then he hadscoffed at the prospect of his inheritance. Was it that by these hemeant to discourage the scheme of which he should have been the head, orwas it that some deeper and more subtle plan occupied his mind? And ifso, what could it be?

  'I see how I have grieved and disappointed you, Pere Massoni,' saidhis Eminence, 'and I regret it. Life is little else than a tale of suchreverses.'

  The Jesuit's dark eyes glanced forth a gleam of intense intelligence.It was the light of a sudden thought that flashed across his brain. Heremembered that when the Cardinal moralised he meant a treachery, andnow he stood on his guard.

  'I had many things to tell your Eminence of Ireland,' he began in acalm, subdued voice. 'The priest Carrol has just come from thence, andcan speak of events as he has witnessed them. The hatred to Englandand English rule increases every day, and the great peril is that thisanimosity may burst forth without guidance or direction. The utmostefforts of the leaders are required to hold the people back.'

  'They never can wish for a fitter moment. England has her hands full,and can scarcely spare a man to repress rebellion in Ireland.'

  'The Irish have not any organisation among them. Remember, yourEminence, that they have been held like a people in slavery: the gentrydiscredited, the priests insulted. The first efforts of such a racecannot have the force of union or combination. They must needs bedesultory and partisan
, and if they cannot obtain aid from others, theywill speedily be repressed.'

  'What sort of aid?'

  'Arms and money; they have neither. Of men there is no want. Men ofmilitary knowledge and skill will also be required; but more even thanthese, they need the force that foreign sympathy would impart to theircause. Carrol, who knows the country well, says that the bare assurancethat Rome looked on the coming struggle with interest would be betterthan ten thousand soldiers in their ranks. Divided, as they are, byseas from all the world, they need the encouragement of this sympathy toassure them of success.'

  'They are brave, are they not?'

  'Their courage has never been surpassed.'

  'And true and faithful to each other?' 'A fidelity that cannot beshaken.'

  'Have they no jealousies or petty rivalries to divide them?'

  'None--or next to none. The deadly hatred to the Saxon buries alldiscords between them.'

  'What want they more than this, then, to achieve independence? Surely noarmy that England can spare could meet a people thus united?'

  'The struggle is far from an equal one between a regular force and amere multitude. But let us suppose that they should conquer: who is tosay to what end the success may be directed? There are fatal examplesabroad. Is it to establish the infidelity of France men should thussell their lives? Is it standing here as we do now, in the city andstronghold of the Church, that we can calmly contemplate a conflict thatmay end in worse than a heresy?'

  'There cannot be worse than some heresies,' broke in the Cardinal.

  'Be it so; but here might be the cradle of many. The sympathy longentertained toward France would flood the land with all her doctrines;and this island, where the banner of faith should be unfurled, maybecome a fastness of the infidel.'

  '_Magna est Veritas et prevalebit?_ exclaimed the Cardinalsententiously.

  'Anything will "prevail" if you have grape and canister to enforce it.Falsehood as well as truth only needs force to make it victorious.'

  'For a while--for a short while--holy father.'

  'What is human life but a short while? But to our theme. Are we to aidthese men or not? It is for our flag they are fighting now. Shall wesuffer them to transfer their allegiance?'

  'The storm is about to break, your Eminence,' said the Cardinal'smajor-domo, as he presented himself suddenly. 'Shall I order thecarriages back to the stables?'

  'No; I am ready. I shall set out at once. You shall hear from meto-morrow or next day, Massoni,' said he, in a low whisper; 'or, betterstill, if you could come out to Albano to see me.'

  The Pere bowed deeply without speaking.

  'These are not matters to be disposed of in a day or an hour; we musthave time.'

  The Pere bowed again and withdrew. As he turned his steps homeward histhoughts had but one subject. 'What was the game his Eminence was benton? What scheme was he then revolving in his mind?'

  Once more beside the sick-bed of young Gerald, all Massoni's fears forthe future came back. What stuff was there in that poor, broken-spiritedyouth, whose meaningless stare now met him, of which to make the leaderin a perilous enterprise? Every look, every gesture, but indicated atemperament soft, gentle, and compliant; and if by chance he uttered astray word, it was spoken timidly and distrustfully, like one who fearedto give trouble. Never did there seem a case where the material was lesssuited for the purpose for which it was meant; and the Pere gazeddown at him as he lay in deep and utter despondency. In the immensedifficulty of the case all its interest reposed; and he felt what atriumph it would be could he only resuscitate that dying youth, and makehim the head of a great achievement. It was a task that might try allhis resources, and he resolved to attempt it.

  We will not weary our reader with the uneventful story of that recovery:the progress so painfully slow that its steps were imperceptible, andthe change which gradually converted the state of fatuity to oneof speculation, and finally brought the youth out of sickness andsuffering, and made him--weak and delicate, of course--able to feelenjoyment in life and eager for its pleasures. If Gerald could neverfathom the mystery of all the care bestowed upon him, nor guess why hewas thus tended and watched, as little could the Pere Massoni comprehendthe strange features of that intellect which each day's experiencecontinued to reveal to him. Through all the womanly tenderness ofhis character there ran a vein of romantic aspiration, undirected andunguided, it is true, but which gave promise of an ambitious spirit.That some great enterprise had been the dream of his early youth--someadventurous career--seemed a fixed notion with himself; and why, andhow, and wherefore its accomplishment had been interrupted, was thedifficulty that often occupied his thoughts for hours. In his vainendeavours to trace back events, snatches of his early life would riseto his memory: his sick-bed at the Tana; his wanderings in the Maremma;the simple songs of Marietta; the spirit-stirring verses of Alfieri;and through these, as dark clouds lowering over a sunny landscape, thebitter lessons of Gabriel Riquetti--his cold sarcasm and his disbelief.For all vicissitudes of the youth's life the Pere was prepared, but notfor that strange discursive reading of which his memory was filled; andit was not easy to understand by what accident his mind had been storedwith snatches of Jacobite songs, passages from Pascal, dreary reveriesof Jean Jacques, and heroic scenes of Alfieri.

  Led on to study the singular character of the youth's mind, Massoniconceived for him at length a strong affection; but though recognisinghow much of good and amiable there was in his disposition, he saw, too,that the intellect had been terribly disturbed, and that the dreadfulscenes he had gone through had left indelible traces upon him.

  Scarcely a day passed that the Pere did not change his mind about him.At one moment he would feel confident that Gerald was the very stuffthey needed--bold, highhearted, and daring; at the next, he would sinkin despondency over the youth's childlike waywardness, his uncertainty,and his capriciousness. There was really no fixity of character abouthim; and even in his most serious moods, droll and absurd images wouldpresent themselves to his mind, and turn at once all the current of histhoughts. While weeks rolled over thus, the Pere continued to assurethe Cardinal that the young man was gradually gaining in health andstrength, and that even his weakly, convalescent state gave evidence oftraits that offered noble promise of a great future.

  Knowing all the importance of the first impression the youth should makeon his Eminence, the Pere continued by various pretexts to defer the dayof the meeting; and the Cardinal, though anxious to see Gerald, fearedto precipitate matters.