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BOOK II - THE NEW LIGHT: CHAPTER 15
Odo, as in duty bound, waited the next morning on the Duchess; but word
was brought that her Highness was indisposed, and could not receive him
till evening.
He passed a drifting and distracted day. The fear lay much upon him that
danger threatened Gamba and his associates; yet to seek them out in the
present conjuncture might be to play the stalking-horse to their
enemies. Moreover, he fancied the Duchess not incapable of using
political rumours to further her private caprice; and scenting no
immediate danger he resolved to wait upon events.
On rising from dinner he was surprised by a summons from the Duke. The
message, an unusual one at that hour, was brought by a slender pale lad,
not in his Highness's service, but in that of the German physician
Heiligenstern. The boy, who was said to be a Georgian rescued from the
Grand Signior's galleys, and whose small oval face was as smooth as a
girl's, accosted Odo in one of the remoter garden alleys with the
request to follow him at once to the Duke's apartment. Odo complied, and
his guide loitered ahead with an air of unconcern, as though not wishing
to have his errand guessed. As they passed through the tapestry gallery
preceding the gentlemen's antechamber, footsteps and voices were heard
within. Instantly the boy was by Odo's side and had drawn him into the
embrasure of a window. A moment later Trescorre left the antechamber and
walked rapidly past their hiding-place. As soon as he was out of sight
the Georgian led Odo from his concealment and introduced him by a
private way to the Duke's closet.
His Highness was in his bed-chamber; and Odo, on being admitted, found
him, still in dressing-gown and night-cap, kneeling with a disordered
countenance before the ancient picture of the Last Judgment that hung on
the wall facing his bed. He seemed to have forgotten that he had asked
for his kinsman; for on the latter's entrance he started up with a
suspicious glance and hastily closed the panels of the picture, which
(as Odo now noticed) appeared to conceal an inner painting. Then,
gathering his dressing-gown about him, he led the way to his closet and
bade his visitor be seated.
"I have," said he, speaking in a low voice, and glancing apprehensively
about him, "summoned you hither privately to speak on a subject which
concerns none but ourselves.--You met no one on your way?" he broke off
to enquire.
Odo told him that Count Trescorre had passed, but without perceiving
him.
The Duke seemed relieved. "My private actions," said he querulously,
"are too jealously spied upon by my ministers. Such surveillance is an
offence to my authority, and my subjects shall learn that it will not
frighten me from my course." He straightened his bent shoulders and
tried to put on the majestic look of his official effigy. "It appears,"
he continued, with one of his sudden changes of manner, "that the
Duchess's uncle, the Duke of Monte Alloro, has heard favourable reports
of your wit and accomplishments, and is desirous of receiving you at his
court." He paused, and Odo concealed his surprise behind a profound bow.
"I own," the Duke went on, "that the invitation comes unseasonably,
since I should have preferred to keep you at my side; but his Highness's
great age, and his close kinship to my wife, through whom the request is
conveyed, make it impossible for me to refuse." The Duke again paused,
as though uncertain how to proceed. At length he resumed:--"I will not
conceal from you that his Highness is subject to the fantastical humours
of his age. He makes it a condition that the length of your stay shall
not be limited; but should you fail to suit his mood you may find
yourself out of favour in a week. He writes of wishing to send you on a
private mission to the court of Naples; but this may be no more than a
passing whim. I see no way, however, but to let you go, and to hope for
a favourable welcome for you. The Duchess is determined upon giving her
uncle this pleasure, and in fact has consented in return to oblige me in
an important matter." He flushed and averted his eyes. "I name this," he
added with an effort, "only that her Highness may be aware that it
depends on herself whether I hold to my side of the bargain. Your papers
are already prepared and you have my permission to set out at your
convenience. Meanwhile it were well that you should keep your
preparations private, at least till you are ready to take leave." And
with the air of dignity he could still assume on occasion, he rose and
handed Odo his passport.
Odo left the closet with a beating heart. It was clear that his
departure from Pianura was as strongly opposed by some one in high
authority as it was favoured by the Duchess; and why opposed and by whom
he could not so much as hazard a guess. In the web of court intrigues it
was difficult for the wariest to grope his way; and Odo was still new to
such entanglements. His first sensation was one of release, of a future
suddenly enlarged and cleared. The door was open again to opportunity,
and he was of an age to greet the unexpected like a bride. Only one
thought disturbed him. It was clear that Maria Clementina had paid high
for his security; and did not her sacrifice, whatever its nature,
constitute a claim upon his future? In sending him to her uncle, whose
known favourite she was, she did not let him out of her hand. If he
accepted this chance of escape he must hereafter come and go as she
bade. At the thought, his bounding fancy slunk back humbled. He saw
himself as Trescorre's successor, his sovereign's official lover, taking
up again, under more difficult circumstances, and without the zest of
inexperience, the dull routine of his former bondage. No, a thousand
times no; he would fetter himself to no woman's fancy! Better find a
pretext for staying in Pianura, affront the Duchess by refusing her aid,
risk his prospects, his life even, than bow his neck twice to the same
yoke. All her charm vanished in this vision of unwilling
subjection...Disturbed by these considerations, and anxious to compose
his spirits, Odo bethought himself of taking refuge in the Bishop's
company. Here at least the atmosphere was clear of mystery: the Bishop
held aloof from political intrigue and breathed an air untainted by the
odium theologicum. Odo found his lordship seated in the cool tessellated
saloon which contained his chiefest treasures--marble busts ranged on
pedestals between the windows, the bronze Venus Callipyge, and various
tables of pietra commessa set out with vases and tazzas of antique
pattern. A knot of virtuosi gathered about one of these tables were
engaged in examining a collection of engraved gems displayed by a
lapidary of Florence; while others inspected a Greek manuscript which
the Bishop had lately received from Syria. Beyond the windows, a
cedrario or orange-walk stretched its sunlit vista to the terrace above
the river; and the black cassocks of one or two priests who were
strolling in the clear green shade of a pleached alley made pleasant
spots of dimness in the scene.
Even here, however, Odo was aware of a certain disquietude. The Bishop's
visitors, instead of engaging in animated disputations over his
lordship's treasures, showed a disposition to walk apart, conversing in
low tones; and he himself, presently complaining of the heat, invited
Odo to accompany him to the grot beneath the terrace. In this shaded
retreat, studded with shells and coral and cooled by an artificial wind
forced through the conchs of marble Tritons, his lordship at once began
to speak of the rumours of public disaffection.
"As you know," said he, "my duties and tastes alike seclude me from
political intrigue, and the scandal of the day seldom travels beyond my
kitchens. But as creaking signboards announce a storm, the hints and
whispers of my household tell me there is mischief abroad. My position
protects me from personal risk, and my lack of ambition from political
enmity; for it is notorious I would barter the highest honours in the
state for a Greek vase or a bronze of Herculanaeum--not to mention the
famous Venus of Giorgione, which, if report be true, his Highness has
burned at Father Ignazio's instigation. But yours, cavaliere, is a less
sheltered walk, and perhaps a friendly warning may be of service. Yet,"
he added after a pause, "a warning I can scarce call it, since I know
not from what quarter the danger impends. Proximus ardet Ucalegon; but
there is no telling which way the flames may spread. I can only advise
you that the Duke's growing infatuation for his German magician has bred
the most violent discontent among his subjects, and that both parties
appear resolved to use this disaffection to their advantage. It is said
his Highness intends to subject the little prince to some mysterious
treatment connected with the rites of the Egyptian priesthood, of whose
secret doctrine Heiligenstern pretends to be an adept. Yesterday it was
bruited that the Duchess loudly opposed the experiment; this afternoon
it is given out that she has yielded. What the result may be, none can
foresee; but whichever way the storm blows, the chief danger probably
threatens those who have had any connection with the secret societies
known to exist in the duchy."
Odo listened attentively, but without betraying any great surprise; and
the Bishop, evidently reassured by his composure, suggested that, the
heat of the day having declined, they should visit the new Indian
pheasants in his volary.
The Bishop's hints had not helped his listener to a decision. Odo indeed
gave Cantapresto orders to prepare as privately as possible for their
departure; but rather to appear to be carrying out the Duke's
instructions than with any fixed intention of so doing. How to find a
pretext for remaining he was yet uncertain. To disobey the Duke was
impossible; but in the general state of tension it seemed likely enough
that both his Highness and the Duchess might change their minds within
the next twenty-four hours. He was reluctant to appear that evening in
the Duchess's circle; but the command was not to be evaded, and he went
thither resolved to excuse himself early.
He found her Highness surrounded by the usual rout that attended her.
She was herself in a mood of wild mirth, occasioned by the drolleries of
an automatic female figure which a travelling showman introduced by
Cantapresto had obtained leave to display at court. This lively puppet
performed with surprising skill on the harpsichord, giving the company,
among other novelties, selections from the maestro Piccini's latest
opera and a concerto of the German composer Gluck.
Maria Clementina seemed at first unaware of her kinsman's presence, and
he began to hope he might avoid any private talk with her; but when the
automaton had been dismissed and the card-tables were preparing, one of
her gentlemen summoned him to her side. As usual, she was highly rouged
in the French fashion, and her cold blue eyes had a light which set off
the extraordinary fairness of her skin.
"Cousin," said she at once, "have you your papers?" Her tone was haughty
and yet eager, as though she scorned to show herself concerned, yet
would not have had him believe in her indifference. Odo bowed without
speaking.
"And when do you set out?" she continued. "My good uncle is impatient to
receive you."
"At the earliest moment, madam," he replied with some hesitation.
The hesitation was not lost on her and he saw her flush through her
rouge.
"Ah," said she in a low voice, "the earliest moment is none too
early!--Do you go tomorrow?" she persisted; but just then Trescorre
advanced toward them, and under a burst of assumed merriment she
privately signed to Odo to withdraw.
He was glad to make his escape, for the sense of walking among hidden
pitfalls was growing on him. That he had acquitted himself awkwardly
with the Duchess he was well aware; but Trescorre's interruption had at
least enabled him to gain time. An increasing unwillingness to leave
Pianura had replaced his former impatience to be gone. The reluctance to
desert his friends was coupled with a boyish desire to stay and see the
game out; and behind all his other impulses lurked the instinctive
resistance to any feminine influence save one.
The next morning he half-expected another message from the Duchess; but
none came, and he judged her to be gravely offended. Cantapresto
appeared early with the rumour that some kind of magical ceremony was to
be performed that evening in the palace; and toward noon the Georgian
boy again came privately to Odo and requested him to wait on the Duke
when his Highness rose from supper. This increased Odo's fears for
Gamba, Andreoni and the other reformers; yet he dared neither seek them
out in person nor entrust a message to Cantapresto. As the day passed,
however, he began to throw off his apprehensions. It was not the first
time since he had come to Pianura that there had been ominous talk of
political disturbances, and he knew that Gamba and his friends were not
without means of getting under shelter. As to his own risk, he did not
give it a thought. He was not of an age or a temper to weigh personal
danger against the excitement of conflict; and as evening drew on he
found himself wondering with some impatience if after all nothing
unusual would happen.
He supped alone, and at the appointed hour proceeded to the Duke's
apartments, taking no farther precaution than to carry his passport
about him. The palace seemed deserted. Everywhere an air of apprehension
and mystery hung over the long corridors and dimly-lit antechambers. The
day had been sultry, with a low sky foreboding great heat, and not a
breath of air entered at the windows. There were few persons about, but
one or two beggars lurked as usual on the landings of the great
staircase, and Odo, in passing, felt his sleeve touched by a woman
cowering under the marble ramp in the shadow thrown by a colossal
Caesar. Looking down, he heard a voice beg for alms, and as he gave it
the woman pressed a paper into his hand and slipped away through the
darkness.
Odo hastened on till he could assure himself of being unobserved; then
he unfolded the paper and read these words in Gamba's hand: "Have no
fear for any one's safety but your own." With a sense of relief he hid
the message and entered the Duke's antechamber.
Here he was received by Heiligenstern's Oriental servant, who, with a
mute salutation, led him into a large room where the Duke's pages
usually waited. The walls of this apartment had been concealed under
hangings of black silk worked with cabalistic devices. Oil-lamps set on
tripods of antique design shed a faint light over the company seated at
one end of the room, among whom Odo recognised the chief dignitaries of
the court. The ladies looked pale but curious, the men for the most part
indifferent or disapproving. Intense quietness prevailed, broken only by
the soft opening and closing of the door through which the guests were
admitted. Presently the Duke and Duchess emerged from his Highness's
closet. They were followed by Prince Ferrante, supported by his governor
and his dwarf, and robed in a silken dressing-gown which hung in
voluminous folds about his little shrunken body. Their Highnesses seated
themselves in two armchairs in front of the court, and the little prince
reclined beside his mother.
No sooner had they taken their places than Heiligenstern stepped forth,
wearing a doctor's gown and a quaintly-shaped bonnet or mitre. In his
long robes and strange headdress he looked extraordinarily tall and
pale, and his features had the glassy-eyed fixity of an ancient mask. He
was followed by his two attendants, the Oriental carrying a frame-work
of polished metal, not unlike a low narrow bed, which he set down in the
middle of the room; while the Georgian lad, who had exchanged his
fustanella and embroidered jacket for a flowing white robe, bore in his
hands a crystal globe set in a gold stand. Having reverently placed it
on a small table, the boy, at a signal from his master, drew forth a
phial and dropped its contents into a bronze vat or brazier which stood
at the far end of the room. Instantly clouds of perfumed vapour filled
the air, and as these dispersed it was seen that the black hangings of
the walls had vanished with them, and the spectators found themselves
seated in a kind of open temple through which the eye travelled down
colonnaded vistas set with statues and fountains. This magical prospect
was bathed in sunlight, and Odo observed that, though the lamps had gone
out, the same brightness suffused the room and illuminated the wondering
faces of the audience. The little prince uttered a cry of delight, and
the magician stepped forward, raising a long white wand in his hand.
"This," said he, in measured accents, "is an evocation of the Temple of
Health, into whose blissful precincts the wisdom of the ancients was
able to lead the sufferer who put his trust in them. This deceptio
visus, or product of rhabdomancy, easily effected by an adept of the
Egyptian mysteries, is designed but to prefigure the reality which
awaits those who seek health through the ministry of the disciples of
Iamblichus. It is no longer denied among men of learning that those who
have been instructed in the secret doctrine of the ancients are able, by
certain correspondences of nature, revealed only to the initiated, to
act on the inanimate world about them, and on the animal economy, by
means beyond the common capabilities of man." He paused a moment, and
then, turning with a low bow to the Duke, enquired whether his Highness
desired the rites to proceed.
The Duke signed his assent, and Heiligenstern, raising his wand, evoked
another volume of mist. This time it was shot through with green flames,
and as the wild light subsided the room was once more revealed with its
black hangings, and the lamps flickered into life again.
After another pause, doubtless intended to increase the tension of the
spectators, the magician bade his servant place the crystal before him.
He then raised his hands as if in prayer, speaking in a strange chanting
jargon, in which Odo detected fragments of Greek and Latin, and the
recurring names of the Judaic demons and angels. As this ceased
Heiligenstern beckoned to the Georgian boy, who approached him with
bowed head and reverently folded hands.
"Your Highness," said Heiligenstern, "and this distinguished company,
are doubtless familiar with the magic crystal of the ancients, in which
the future may be deciphered by the pure in heart. This lad, whom I
rescued from slavery and have bred to my service in the solemn rites of
the priesthood of Isis, is as clear in spirit as the crystal which
stands before you. The future lies open to him in this translucent
sphere and he is prepared to disclose it at your bidding."
There was a moment's silence; but on the magician's repeating his
enquiry the Duke said: "Let the boy tell me what he sees."
Heiligenstern at once laid his hands on his acolyte's head and murmured
a few words over him; then the boy advanced and bent devoutly above the
crystal. Almost immediately the globe was seen to cloud, as though
suffused with milk; the cloud gradually faded and the boy began to speak
in a low hesitating tone.
"I see," he said, "I see a face...a fair face..." He faltered and
glanced up almost apprehensively at Heiligenstern, whose gaze remained
impenetrable. The boy began to tremble. "I see nothing," he said in a
whisper. "There is one here purer than I...the crystal will not speak
for me in that other's presence..."
"Who is that other?" Heiligenstern asked.
The boy fixed his eyes on the little prince. An excited murmur ran
through the company and Heiligenstern again advanced to the Duke. "Will
your Highness," he asked, "permit the prince to look into the sacred
sphere?"
Odo saw the Duchess extend her hand impulsively toward the child; but at
a signal from the Duke the little prince's chair was carried to the
table on which the crystal stood. Instantly the former phenomenon was
repeated, the globe clouding and then clearing itself like a pool after
rain.
"Speak, my son," said the Duke. "Tell us what the heavenly powers reveal
to you."
The little prince continued to pore over the globe without speaking.
Suddenly his thin face reddened and he clung more closely to his
companion's arm.
"I see a beautiful place," he began, his small fluting voice rising like
a bird's pipe in the stillness, "a place a thousand times more beautiful
than this...like a garden...full of golden-haired children...with
beautiful strange toys in their hands...they have wings like
birds...they ARE birds...ah! they are flying away from me...I see them
no more...they vanish through the trees..." He broke off sadly.
Heiligenstern smiled. "That, your Highness, is a vision of the prince's
own future, when, restored to health, he is able to disport himself with
his playmates in the gardens of the palace."
"But they were not the gardens of the palace!" the little boy exclaimed.
"They were much more beautiful than our gardens."
Heiligenstern bowed. "They appeared so to your Highness," he
deferentially suggested, "because all the world seems more beautiful to
those who have regained their health."
"Enough, my son!" exclaimed the Duchess with a shaken voice. "Why will
you weary the child?" she continued, turning to the Duke; and the
latter, with evident reluctance, signed to Heiligenstern to cover the
crystal. To the general surprise, however, Prince Ferrante pushed back
the black velvet covering which the Georgian boy was preparing to throw
over it.
"No, no," he exclaimed, in the high obstinate voice of the spoiled
child, "let me look again...let me see some more beautiful things...I
have never seen anything so beautiful, even in my sleep!" It was the
plaintive cry of the child whose happiest hours are those spent in
unconsciousness.
"Look again, then," said the Duke, "and ask the heavenly powers what
more they have to show you."
The boy gazed in silence; then he broke out: "Ah, now we are in the
palace...I see your Highness's cabinet...no, it is the bedchamber...it
is night...and I see your Highness lying asleep...very still...very
still...your Highness wears the scapular received last Easter from his
Holiness...It is very dark...Oh, now a light begins to shine...where
does it come from? Through the door? No, there is no door on that side
of the room...It shines through the wall at the foot of the bed...ah! I
see"--his voice mounted to a cry--"The old picture at the foot of the
bed...the picture with the wicked people burning in it...has opened like
a door...the light is shining through it...and now a lady steps out from
the wall behind the picture...oh, so beautiful...she has yellow hair, as
yellow as my mother's...but longer...oh, much longer...she carries a
rose in her hand...and there are white doves flying about her
shoulders...she is naked, quite naked, poor lady! but she does not seem
to mind...she seems to be laughing about it...and your Highness..."
The Duke started up violently. "Enough--enough!" he stammered. "The
fever is on the child...this agitation is...most pernicious...Cover the
crystal, I say!"
He sank back, his forehead damp with perspiration. In an instant the
crystal had been removed, and Prince Ferrante carried back to his
mother's side. The boy seemed in nowise affected by his father's
commotion. His eyes burned with excitement, and he sat up eagerly, as
though not to miss a detail of what was going forward. Maria Clementina
leaned over and clasped his hand, but he hardly noticed her. "I want to
see some more beautiful things!" he insisted.
The Duke sat speechless, a fallen heap in his chair, and the courtiers
looked at each other, their faces shifting spectrally in the faint
light, like phantom travellers waiting to be ferried across some
mysterious river. At length Heiligenstern advanced and with every mark
of deference addressed himself to the Duke.
"Your Highness," said he quietly, "need be under no apprehension as to
the effect produced upon the prince. The magic crystal, as your Highness
is aware, is under the protection of the blessed spirits, and its
revelations cannot harm those who are pure-minded enough to receive
them. But the chief purpose of this assemblage was to witness the
communication of vital force to the prince, by means of the electrical
current. The crystal, by revealing its secrets to the prince, has
testified to his perfect purity of mind, and thus declared him to be in
a peculiarly fit state to receive what may be designated as the
Sacrament of the new faith."
A murmur ran through the room, but Heiligenstern continued without
wavering: "I mean thereby to describe that natural religion which, by
instructing its adepts in the use of the hidden potencies of earth and
air, testifies afresh to the power of the unseen Maker of the Universe."
The murmur subsided, and the Duke, regaining his voice, said with an
assumption of authority: "Let the treatment begin."
Heiligenstern immediately spoke a word to the Oriental, who bent over
the metal bed which had been set up in the middle of the room. As he did
so the air again darkened and the figures of the magician and his
assistants were discernible only as flitting shades in the obscurity.
Suddenly a soft pure light overflowed the room, the perfume of flowers
filled the air, and music seemed to steal out of the very walls.
Heiligenstern whispered to the governor and between them they lifted the
little prince from his chair and laid him gently on the bed. The
magician then leaned over the boy with a slow weaving motion of the
hands.
"If your Highness will be pleased to sleep," he said, "I promise your
Highness the most beautiful dreams."
The boy smiled back at him and he continued to bend above the bed with
flitting hands. Suddenly the little prince began to laugh.
"What does your Highness feel?" the magician asked.
"A prickling...such a soft warm prickling...as if my blood were sunshine
with motes dancing in it...or as if that sparkling wine of France were
running all over my body."
"It is an agreeable sensation, your Highness?"
The boy nodded.
"It is well with your Highness?"
"Very well."
Heiligenstern began a loud rhythmic chant, and gradually the air
darkened, but with the mild dimness of a summer twilight, through which
sparks could be seen flickering like fire-flies about the reclining
prince. The hush grew deeper; but in the stillness Odo became aware of
some unseen influence that seemed to envelope him in waves of exquisite
sensation. It was as though the vast silence of the night had poured
into the room and, like a dark tepid sea, was lapping about his body and
rising to his lips. His thoughts, dissolved into emotion, seemed to
waver and float on the stillness like sea-weed on the lift of the tide.
He stood spell-bound, lulled, yielding himself to a blissful
dissolution.
Suddenly he became aware that the hush was too intense, too complete;
and a moment later, as though stretched to the cracking-point, it burst
terrifically into sound. A huge uproar shook the room, crashing through
it like a tangible mass. The sparks whirled in a menacing dance round
the little prince's body, and, abruptly blotted, left a deeper darkness,
in which the confused herding movements of startled figures were
indistinguishably merged. A flash of silence followed; then the
liberated forces of the night broke in rain and thunder on the rocking
walls of the room.
"Light--light!" some one stammered; and at the same moment a door was
flung open, admitting a burst of candle-light and a group of figures in
ecclesiastical dress, against which the white gown and black hood of
Father Ignazio detached themselves. The Dominican stepped toward the
Duke.
"Your Highness," said he in a tone of quiet resolution, "must pardon
this interruption; I act at the bidding of the Holy Office."
Even in that moment of profound disarray the name sent a deeper shudder
through his hearers. The Duke, who stood grasping the arms of his chair,
raised his head and tried to stare down the intruders; but no one heeded
his look. At a signal from the Dominican a servant had brought in a pair
of candelabra, and in their commonplace light the cabalistic hangings,
the magician's appliances and his fantastically-dressed attendants
looked as tawdry as the paraphernalia of a village quack. Heiligenstern
alone survived the test. Erect, at bay as it were, his black robe
falling in hieratic folds, the white wand raised in his hands, he might
have personified the Prince of Darkness drawn up undaunted against the
hosts of the Lord. Some one had snatched the little prince from his
stretcher, and Maria Clementina, holding him to her breast, sat palely
confronting the sorcerer. She alone seemed to measure her strength
against his in some mysterious conflict of the will. But meanwhile the
Duke had regained his voice.
"My father," said he, "on what information does the Holy Office act?"
The Dominican drew a parchment from his breast. "On that of the
Inquisitor General, your Highness," he replied, handing the paper to the
Duke, who unfolded it with trembling hands but was plainly unable to
master its contents. Father Ignazio beckoned to an ecclesiastic who had
entered the room in his train.
"This, your Highness," said he, "is the abate de Crucis of Innsbruck,
who was lately commissioned by the Holy Office to enquire into the
practises and doctrine of the order of the Illuminati, that corrupt and
atheistical sect which has been the cause of so much scandal among the
German principalities. In the course of his investigations he became
aware that the order had secretly established a lodge in Pianura; and
hastening hither from Rome to advise your Highness of the fact, has
discovered in the so-called Count Heiligenstern one of the most
notorious apostles of the order." He turned to the priest. "Signor
abate," he said, "you confirm these facts?"
The abate de Crucis quietly advanced. He was a slight pale man of about
thirty, with a thoughtful and indulgent cast of countenance.
"In every particular," said he, bowing profoundly to the Duke, and
speaking in a low voice of singular sweetness. "It has been my duty to
track this man's career from its ignoble beginning to its infamous
culmination, and I have been able to place in the hands of the Holy
Office the most complete proofs of his guilt. The so-called Count
Heiligenstern is the son of a tailor in a small village of Pomerania.
After passing through various vicissitudes with which I need not trouble
your Highness, he obtained the confidence of the notorious Dr.
Weishaupt, the founder of the German order of the Illuminati, and
together this precious couple have indefatigably propagated their
obscene and blasphemous doctrines. That they preach atheism and
tyrannicide I need not tell your Highness; but it is less generally
known that they have made these infamous doctrines the cloak of private
vices from which even paganism would have recoiled. The man now before
me, among other open offences against society, is known to have seduced
a young girl of noble family in Ratisbon and to have murdered her child.
His own wife and children he long since abandoned and disowned; and the
youth yonder, whom he describes as a Georgian slave rescued from the
Grand Signior's galleys, is in fact the wife of a Greek juggler of
Ravenna, and has forsaken her husband to live in criminal intercourse
with an atheist and assassin."
This indictment, pronounced with an absence of emotion which made each
word cut the air like the separate stroke of a lash, was followed by a
prolonged silence; then one of the Duchess's ladies cried out suddenly
and burst into tears. This was the signal for a general outbreak. The
room was filled with a confusion of voices, and among the groups surging
about him Odo noticed a number of the Duke's sbirri making their way
quietly through the crowd. The notary of the Holy Office advanced toward
Heiligenstern, who had placed himself against the wall, with one arm
flung about his trembling acolyte. The Duchess, her boy still clasped
against her, remained proudly seated; but her eyes met Odo's in a glance
of terrified entreaty, and at the same instant he felt a clutch on his
sleeve and heard Cantapresto's whisper.
"Cavaliere, a boat waits at the landing below the tanners' lane. The
shortest way to it is through the gardens and your excellency will find
the gate beyond the Chinese pavilion unlocked."
He had vanished before Odo could look round. The latter still wavered;
but as he did so he caught Trescorre's face through the crowd. The
minister's eye was fixed on him; and the discovery was enough to make
him plunge through the narrow wake left by Cantapresto's retreat.
Odo made his way unhindered to the ante-room, which was also thronged,
ecclesiastics, servants and even beggars from the courtyard jostling
each other in their struggle to see what was going forward. The
confusion favoured his escape, and a moment later he was hastening down
the tapestry gallery and through the vacant corridors of the palace. He
was familiar with half-a-dozen short-cuts across this network of
passages; but in his bewilderment he pressed on down the great stairs
and across the echoing guard-room that opened on the terrace. A drowsy
sentinel challenged him; and on Odo's explaining that he sought to
leave, and not to enter, the palace, replied that he had his Highness's
orders to let no one out that night. For a moment Odo was at a loss;
then he remembered his passport. It seemed to him an interminable time
before the sentinel had scrutinised it by the light of a guttering
candle, and to his surprise he found himself in a cold sweat of fear.
The rattle of the storm simulated footsteps at his heels and he felt the
blind rage of a man within shot of invisible foes.
The passport restored, he plunged out into the night. It was pitch-black
in the gardens and the rain drove down with the guttural rush of a
midsummer storm. So fierce was its fall that it seemed to suck up the
earth in its black eddies, and he felt himself swept along over a
heaving hissing surface, with wet boughs lashing out at him as he fled.
From one terrace to another he dropped to lower depths of buffeting
dripping darkness, till he found his hand on the gate-latch and swung to
the black lane below the wall. Thence on a run he wound to the tanners'
quarter by the river: a district commonly as foul-tongued as it was
ill-favoured, but tonight clean-purged of both evils by the vehement
sweep of the storm. Here he groped his way among slippery places and
past huddled out-buildings to the piles of the wharf. The rain was now
subdued to a noiseless vertical descent, through which he could hear the
tap of the river against the piles. Scarce knowing what he fled or
whither he was flying, he let himself down the steps and found the flat
of a boat's bottom underfoot. A boatman, distinguishable only as a black
bulk in the stern, steadied his descent with outstretched hand; then the
bow swung round, and after a labouring stroke or two they caught the
current and were swept down through the rushing darkness.
Content of BOOK II - THE NEW LIGHT: CHAPTER 15 [Edith Wharton's novel: The Valley Of Decision]
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