THE PLOT.
The Abbe-Marquis d'Aigrigny, as the reader has easily divined, was the person already seen in the Rue du Milieu-des-Ursins; whence he had departed from Rome, in which city he had remained about three months.
The marquis was dressed in deep mourning, but with his usual elegance.
His was not a priestly robe; his black coat, and his waistcoat, tightly gathered in at the waist, set off to great advantage the elegance of his figure: his black cassimere pantaloons disguised his feet, exactly fitted with lace boots, brilliantly polished.And all traces of his tonsure disappeared in the midst of the slight baldness which whitened slightly the back part of his head.There was nothing in his entire costume, or aspect, that revealed the priest, except, perhaps, the entire absence of beard, the more remarkable upon so manly a countenance.His chin, newly shaved, rested on a large and elevated black cravat, tied with a military ostentation which reminded the beholder, that this abbe-marquis this celebrated preacher--now one of the most active and influential chiefs of his order, had commanded a regiment of hussars upon the Restoration, and had fought in aid of the Russians against France.
Returned to Paris only this morning, the marquis had not seen the princess since his mother, the Dowager Marchioness d'Aigrigny, had died near Dunkirk, upon an estate belonging to Madame de Saint-Dizier, while vainly calling for her son to alleviate her last moments; but the order to which M.d'Aigrigny had thought fit to sacrifice the most sacred feeling and duties of nature, having been suddenly transmitted to him from Rome, he had immediately set out for that city; though not without hesitation, which was remarked and denounced by Rodin; for the love of M.
d'Aigrigny for his mother had been the only pure feeling that had invariably distinguished his life.
When the servant had discreetly withdrawn with Mrs.Grivois, the marquis quickly approached the princess, held out his hand to her, and said with a voice of emotion:
"Herminia, have you not concealed something in your letters.In her last moments did not my mother curse me?"
"No, no, Frederick, compose yourself.She had anxiously desired your presence.Her ideas soon became confused.But in her delirium it was still for you that she called."
"Yes," said the marquis, bitterly; "her maternal instinct doubtless assured her that my presence could have saved her life."
"I entreat you to banish these sad recollections," said the princess, "this misfortune is irreparable."
"Tell me for the last time, truly, did not my absence cruelly affect my mother? Had she no suspicion that a more imperious duty called me elsewhere?"
"No, no, I assure you.Even when her reason was shaken, she believed that you had not yet had time to come to her.All the sad details which I wrote to you upon this painful subject are strictly true.Again, I beg of you to compose yourself."
"Yes, my conscience ought to be easy; for I have fulfilled my duty in sacrificing my mother.Yet I have never been able to arrive at that complete detachment from natural affection, which is commanded to us by those awful words: `He who hates not his father and his mother, even with the soul, cannot be my disciple.'"[9]
"Doubtless, Frederick," said the princess, "these renunciations are painful.But, in return, what influence, what power!"
"It is true," said the marquis, after a moment's silence."What ought not to be sacrificed in order to reign in secret over the all-powerful of the earth, who lord it in full day? This journey to Rome, from which I have just returned, has given me a new idea of our formidable power.
For, Herminia, it is Rome which is the culminating point, overlooking the fairest and broadest quarters of the globe, made so by custom, by tradition, or by faith.Thence can our workings be embraced in their full extent.It is an uncommon view to see from its height the myriad tools, whose personality is continually absorbed into the immovable personality of our Order.What a might we possess! Verily, I am always swayed with admiration, aye, almost frightened, that man once thinks, wishes, believes, and acts as he alone lists, until, soon ours, he becomes but a human shell; its kernel of intelligence, mind, reason, conscience, and free will, shrivelled within him, dry and withered by the habit of mutely, fearingly bowing under mysterious tasks, which shatter and slay everything spontaneous in the human soul! Then do we infuse in such spiritless clay, speechless, cold, and motionless as corpses, the breath of our Order, and, lo! the dry bones stand up and walk, acting and executing, though only within the limits which are circled round them evermore.Thus do they become mere limbs of the gigantic trunk, whose impulses they mechanically carry out, while ignorant of the design, like the stonecutter who shapes out a stone, unaware if it be for cathedral or bagnio."
In so speaking, the marquis's features wore an incredible air of proud and domineering haughtiness.
"Oh, yes! this power is great, most great," observed the princess; "and the more formidable because it moves in a mysterious way over minds and consciences."
"Aye, Herminia," said the marquis: "I have had under my command a magnificent regiment.Very often have I experienced the energetic and exquisite enjoyment of command! At my word my squadrons put themselves in action; bugles blared, my officers, glittering in golden embroidery, galloped everywhere to repeat my orders: all my brave soldiers, burning with courage, and cicatrized by battles, obeyed my signal; and I felt proud and strong, holding as I did (so to speak) in my hands, the force and valor of each and all combined into one being of resistless strength and invincible intrepidity,--of all of which I was as much the master, as I mastered the rage and fire of my war-horse! Aye! that was greatness.