_ CHAPTER XLIV. OLIVA BEGINS TO ASK WHAT THEY WANT OF HER
If M. Beausire had trusted to his eyesight, which was excellent, instead of trusting his imagination, he would have spared himself much regret and many mistakes. It was, in fact, Oliva who sat in the carriage by the side of a man, whom he would also have recognized if he had looked a little longer. She had gone that morning, as usual, to take a walk in the gardens of the Luxembourg, where she had met the strange friend whose acquaintance she had made the day of the ball at the Opera.
It was just as she was about to return that he appeared before her, and said, "Where are you going?"
"Home, monsieur."
"Just what the people want who are there waiting for you."
"Waiting for me? No one is there for me."
"Oh, yes, a dozen visitors at least."
"A whole regiment, perhaps?" said Oliva, laughing.
"Perhaps, had it been possible to send a whole regiment, they would have done so."
"You astonish me!"
"You would be far more astonished if I let you go."
"Why?"
"Because you would be arrested."
"I! arrested?"
"Assuredly. The twelve gentlemen who wait for you are sent by M. de Crosne."
Oliva trembled. Some people are always fearful on certain points. But she said:
"I have done nothing; why should they arrest me?"
"For some intrigue, perhaps."
"I have none."
"But you have had."
"Oh, perhaps."
"Well, perhaps they are wrong to wish to arrest you, but the fact is that they do desire to do so. Will you still go home?"
"You deceive me," said Oliva; "if you know anything, tell me at once. Is it not Beausire they want?"
"Perhaps; he may have a conscience less clear than yours."
"Poor fellow!"
"Pity him, if you like; but if he is taken, there is no need for you to be taken too."
"What interest have you in protecting me?" asked she. "It is not natural for a man like you."
"I would not lose time if I were you; they are very likely to seek you here, finding you do not return."
"How should they know I am here?"
"Are you not always here? My carriage is close by, if you will come with me. But I see you doubt still."
"Yes."
"Well, we will commit an imprudence to convince you. We will drive past your house, and when you have seen these gentlemen there, I think you will better appreciate my good offices."
He led her to the carriage, and drove to the Rue Dauphine, at the corner of which they passed Beausire. Had Oliva seen him, doubtless she would have abandoned everything to fly with him and share his fate, whatever it might be; but Cagliostro, who did see him, took care to engage her attention by showing her the crowd, which was already in sight, and which was waiting to see what the police would do.
When Oliva could distinguish the soldiers who filled her house, she threw herself into the arms of her protector in despair. "Save me! save me!" she cried.
He pressed her hand. "I promise you."
"But they will find me out anywhere."
"Not where I shall take you; they will not seek you at my house."
"Oh!" cried she, frightened, "am I to go home with you?"
"You are foolish," said he; "I am not your lover, and do not wish to become so. If you prefer a prison, you are free to choose."
"No," replied she, "I trust myself to you, take me where you please."
He conducted her to the Rue Neuve St. Gilles, into a small room on the second floor.
"How triste!" said she; "here, without liberty, and without even a garden to walk in."
"You are right," said he; "besides, my people would see you here at last."
"And would betray me, perhaps."
"No fear of that. But I will look out for another abode for you; I do not mean you to remain here."
Oliva was consoled; besides, she found amusing books and easy-chairs.
He left her, saying, "If you want me, ring; I will come directly if I am at home."
"Ah!" cried she, "get me some news of Beausire."
"Before everything." Then, as he went down, he said to himself, "It will be a profanation to lodge her in that house in the Rue St. Claude; but it is important that no one should see her, and there no one will. So I will extinguish the last spark of my old light." _