第 63 页

white world; unless, indeed, this divorce secured by pecuniary payments

and the pressure of notorious influences were an intentional scandal at

first spun out and now hastened, in order to harm Cardinal Boccanera,

whom the Jesuits might desire to brush aside in certain eventualities

which were possibly near at hand.

"To tell the truth, I rather incline to the latter view," said Don

Vigilio, "the more so indeed as I learnt this evening that the Pope is

not well. With an old man of eighty-four the end may come at any moment,

and so the Pope can never catch cold but what the Sacred College and the

prelacies are all agog, stirred by sudden ambitious rivalries. Now, the

Jesuits have always opposed Cardinal Boccanera's candidature. They ought

to be on his side, on account of his rank, and his uncompromising

attitude towards Italy, but the idea of giving themselves such a master

disquiets them, for they consider him unseasonably rough and stern, too

violent in his faith, which unbending as it is would prove dangerous in

these diplomatic times through which the Church is passing. And so I

should in no wise be astonished if there were an attempt to discredit him

and render his candidature impossible, by employing the most underhand

and shameful means."

A little quiver of fear was coming over Pierre. The contagion of the

unknown, of the black intrigues plotted in the dark, was spreading amidst

the silence of the night in the depths of that palace, near that Tiber,

in that Rome so full of legendary tragedies. But all at once the young

man's mind reverted to himself, to his own affair. "But what is my part

in all this?" he asked: "why does Monsignor Nani seem to take an interest

in me? Why is he mixed up in the proceedings against my book?"

"Oh! one never knows, one never knows exactly!" replied Don Vigilio,

waving his arms. "One thing I can say, that he only knew of the affair

when the denunciations of the three bishops were already in the hands of

Father Dangelis; and I have also learnt that he then tried to stop the

proceedings, which he no doubt thought both useless and impolitic. But

when a matter is once before the Congregation it is almost impossible for

it to be withdrawn, and Monsignor Nani must also have come into collision

with Father Dangelis who, like a faithful Dominican, is the passionate

adversary of the Jesuits. It was then that he caused the Contessina to

write to Monsieur de la Choue, requesting him to tell you to hasten here

in order to defend yourself, and to arrange for your acceptance of

hospitality in this mansion, during your stay."

This revelation brought Pierre's emotion to a climax. "You are sure of

that?" he asked.

"Oh! quite sure. I heard Nani speak of you one Monday, and some time ago

I told you that he seemed to know all about you, as if he had made most

minute inquiries. My belief is that he had already read your book, and

was extremely preoccupied about it."

"Do you think that he shares my ideas, then? Is he sincere, is he

defending himself while striving to defend me?"

"Oh! no, no, not at all. Your ideas, why he certainly hates them, and

your book and yourself as well. You have no idea what contempt for the

weak, what hatred of the poor, and love of authority and domination he

conceals under his caressing amiability. Lourdes he might abandon to you,

though it embodies a marvellous weapon of government; but he will never

forgive you for being on the side of the little ones of the world, and

for pronouncing against the temporal power. If you only heard with what

gentle ferocity he derides Monsieur de la Choue, whom he calls the

weeping willow of Neo-Catholicism!"

Pierre carried his hands to his temples and pressed his head

despairingly. "Then why, why, tell me I beg of you, why has he brought me

here and kept me here in this house at his disposal? Why has he

promenaded me up and down Rome for three long months, throwing me against

obstacles and wearying me, when it was so easy for him to let the Index

condemn my book if it embarrassed him? It's true, of course, that things

would not have gone quietly, for I was disposed to refuse submission and

openly confess my new faith, even against the decisions of Rome."

Don Vigilio's black eyes flared in his yellow face: "Perhaps it was that

which he wished to prevent. He knows you to be very intelligent and

enthusiastic, and I have often heard him say that intelligence and

enthusiasm should not be fought openly."

Pierre, however, had risen to his feet, and instead of listening, was

striding up and down the room as though carried away by the whirlwind of

his thoughts. "Come, come," he said at last, "it is necessary that I

should know and understand things if I am to continue the struggle. You

must be kind enough to give me some detailed particulars about each of

the persons mixed up in my affair. Jesuits, Jesuits everywhere? _Mon

Dieu_, it may be so, you are perhaps right! But all the same you must

point out the different shades to me. Now, for instance, what of that

Fornaro?"

"Monsignor Fornaro, oh! he's whatever you like. Still he also was brought

up at the Collegio Romano, so you may be certain that he is a Jesuit, a

Jesuit by education, position, and ambition. He is longing to become a

cardinal, and if he some day becomes one, he'll long to be the next pope.

Besides, you know, every one here is a candidate to the papacy as soon as

he enters the seminary."

"And Cardinal Sanguinetti?"

"A Jesuit, a Jesuit! To speak plainly, he was one, then ceased to be one,

and is now undoubtedly one again. Sanguinetti has flirted with every

influence. It was long thought that he was in favour of conciliation

between the Holy See and Italy; but things drifted into a bad way, and he

violently took part against the usurpers. In the same style he has

frequently fallen out with Leo XIII and then made his peace. To-day at

the Vatican, he keeps on a footing of diplomatic reserve. Briefly he only

has one object, the tiara, and even shows it too plainly, which is a

mistake, for it uses up a candidate. Still, just at present the struggle

seems to be between him and Cardinal Boccanera. And that's why he has

gone over to the Jesuits again, utilising their hatred of his rival, and

anticipating that they will be forced to support _him_ in order to defeat

the other. But I doubt it, they are too shrewd, they will hesitate to

patronise a candidate who is already so compromised. He, blunder-head,

passionate and proud as he is, doubts nothing, and since you say that he

is now at Frascati, I'm certain that he made all haste to shut himself up

there with some grand strategical object in view, as soon as he heard of

the Pope's illness."

"Well, and the Pope himself, Leo XIII?" asked Pierre.

This time Don Vigilio slightly hesitated, his eyes blinking. Then he

said: "Leo XIII? He is a Jesuit, a Jesuit! Oh! I know it is said that he

sides with the Dominicans, and this is in a measure true, for he fancies

that he is animated with their spirit and he has brought St. Thomas into

favour again, and has restored all the ecclesiastical teaching of

doctrine. But there is also the Jesuit, remember, who is one

involuntarily and without knowing it, and of this category the present

Pope will prove the most famous example. Study his acts, investigate his

policy, and you will find that everything in it emanates from the Jesuit

spirit. The fact is that he has unwittingly become impregnated with that

spirit, and that all the influence, directly or indirectly brought to

bear on him comes from a Jesuit centre. Ah! why don't you believe me? I

repeat that the Jesuits have conquered and absorbed everything, that all

Rome belongs to them from the most insignificant cleric to his Holiness

in person."

Then he continued, replying to each fresh name that Pierre gave with the

same obstinate, maniacal cry: "Jesuit, Jesuit!" It seemed as if a

Churchman could be nothing else, as if each answer were a confirmation of

the proposition that the clergy must compound with the modern world if it

desired to preserve its Deity. The heroic age of Catholicism was

accomplished, henceforth it could only live by dint of diplomacy and

ruses, concessions and arrangements. "And that Paparelli, he's a Jesuit

too, a Jesuit!" Don Vigilio went on, instinctively lowering his voice.

"Yes, the humble but terrible Jesuit, the Jesuit in his most abominable

_role_ as a spy and a perverter! I could swear that he has merely been

placed here in order to keep watch on his Eminence! And you should see

with what supple talent and craft he has performed his task, to such a

point indeed that it is now he alone who wills and orders things. He

opens the door to whomsoever he pleases, uses his master like something

belonging to him, weighs on each of his resolutions, and holds him in his

power by dint of his stealthy unremitting efforts. Yes! it's the lion

conquered by the insect; the infinitesimally small disposing of the

infinitely great; the train-bearer--whose proper part is to sit at his

cardinal's feet like a faithful hound--in reality reigning over him, and

impelling him in whatsoever direction he chooses. Ah! the Jesuit! the

Jesuit! Mistrust him when you see him gliding by in his shabby old

cassock, with the flabby wrinkled face of a devout old maid. And make

sure that he isn't behind the doors, or in the cupboards, or under the

beds. Ah! I tell you that they'll devour you as they've devoured me; and

they'll give you the fever too, perhaps even the plague if you are not

careful!"

Pierre suddenly halted in front of his companion. He was losing all

assurance, both fear and rage were penetrating him. And, after all, why

not? These extraordinary stories must be true. "But in that case give me

some advice," he exclaimed, "I asked you to come in here this evening

precisely because I no longer know what to do, and need to be set in the

right path--" Then he broke off and again paced to and fro, as if urged

into motion by his exploding passion. "Or rather no, tell me nothing!" he

abruptly resumed. "It's all over; I prefer to go away. The thought

occurred to me before, but it was in a moment of cowardice and with the

idea of disappearing and of returning to live in peace in my little nook:

whereas now, if I go off, it will be as an avenger, a judge, to cry aloud

to all the world from Paris, to proclaim what I have seen in Rome, what

men have done there with the Christianity of Jesus, the Vatican falling

into dust, the corpse-like odour which comes from it, the idiotic

illusions of those who hope that they will one day see a renascence of

the modern soul arise from a sepulchre where the remnants of dead

centuries rot and slumber. Oh! I will not yield, I will not make my

submission, I will defend my book by a fresh one. And that book, I

promise you, will make some noise in the world, for it will sound the

last agony of a dying religion, which one must make all haste to bury

lest its remains should poison the nations!"

All this was beyond Don Vigilio's mind. The Italian priest, with narrow

belief and ignorant terror of the new ideas, awoke within him. He clasped

his hands, affrighted. "Be quiet, be quiet! You are blaspheming! And,

besides, you cannot go off like that without again trying to see his

Holiness. He alone is sovereign. And I know that I shall surprise you;

but Father Dangelis has given you in jest the only good advice that can

be given: Go back to see Monsignor Nani, for he alone will open the door

of the Vatican for you."

Again did Pierre give a start of anger: "What! It was with Monsignor Nani

that I began, from him that I set out; and I am to go back to him? What

game is that? Can I consent to be a shuttlecock sent flying hither and

thither by every battledore? People are having a game with me!"

Then, harassed and distracted, the young man fell on his chair in front

of Don Vigilio, who with his face drawn by his prolonged vigil, and his

hands still and ever faintly trembling, remained for some time silent. At

last he explained that he had another idea. He was slightly acquainted

with the Pope's confessor, a Franciscan father, a man of great

simplicity, to whom he might recommend Pierre. This Franciscan, despite

his self-effacement, would perhaps prove of service to him. At all events

he might be tried. Then, once more, silence fell, and Pierre, whose

dreamy eyes were turned towards the wall, ended by distinguishing the old

picture which had touched him so deeply on the day of his arrival. In the

pale glow of the lamp it gradually showed forth and lived, like an

incarnation of his own case, his own futile despair before the sternly

closed portal of truth and justice. Ah! that outcast woman, that stubborn

victim of love, weeping amidst her streaming hair, her visage hidden

whilst with pain and grief she sank upon the steps of that palace whose

door was so pitilessly shut--how she resembled him! Draped with a mere

strip of linen, she was shivering, and amidst the overpowering distress

of her abandonment she did not reveal her secret, misfortune, or

transgression, whichever it might be. But he, behind her close-pressed

hands, endowed her with a face akin to his own: she became his sister, as

were all the poor creatures without roof or certainty who weep because

they are naked and alone, and wear out their strength in seeking to force

the wicked thresholds of men. He could never gaze at her without pitying

her, and it stirred him so much that evening to find her ever so unknown,

nameless and visageless, yet steeped in the most bitter tears, that he

suddenly began to question his companion.

"Tell me," said he, "do you know who painted that old picture? It stirs

me to the soul like a masterpiece."

Stupefied by this unexpected question, the secretary raised his head and