CHAPTER CLXV.
THE FAVOR OF PRINCES.
The emperor thrust open the door which led from his cabinet to the chancery. There at the long, green table, immersed in their business, sat the four imperial secretaries; and next to the arm-chair, which was surmounted by the Austrian crown, sat the unconscious Gunther. Had Gunther seen the look with which Joseph regarded him as he sat quietly writing, his heart would have grown chill with apprehension. But not an eye there was raised. One of the emperor's most stringent orders forbade the secretaries, when in the chancery, to raise their heads on any account. They were to take no note of the entrance of Joseph himself; they were co-workers, and no time was to be wasted in ceremonial.
Joseph seated himself in silence, and taking up a pen, wrote a few hasty lines upon a sheet of paper. He then rang, and delivered the paper to a page.
"Take this to the colonel commanding the recruits," said he, and his voice trembled as he spoke these few words. There was a long silence; the secretaries continued to write, and Gunther, always obedient to orders, had not once raised his head. His countenance was as tranquil as it had ever been. "Gunther." said the emperor, in an imperious tone, "begin a new sheet, and write what I shall dictate."
Gunther bowed, and prepared to obey. The others went on with their work. Had Joseph not been so blinded by indignation against his private secretary, he might have seen how one of the others raised his head and glanced furtively around; how his face was pale, and his lips were twitching; and how his hand was so tremulous that he was scarcely able to hold his pen. No one observed it. The other secretaries were writing; the emperor, in his wrath, saw nothing but Gunther.
And now with flashing eyes, he called upon Gunther to write.
"To his Eminence, Cardinal Megazzi;
"It has come to my knowledge that the absurd sect which originated in Bohemia, is spreading its pernicious tenets even to our capital. A heart-broken father has this day come before me to accuse his daughter of Deism. To what extremes the Deists go in their imbecility, is shown by the fact, that this girl, who has defied Heaven, the laws of her country, and the authority of her father, has left the paternal roof, and is now living a life of shame with her paramour. She must either profess some faith, or be punished as the law directs. To this end, your eminence will commission an intelligent priest to visit and instruct her in the tenets of Christianity. From this day she is a prisoner in her own house; but as she is of Jewish birth (and I do not wish to have it said that we have forced her into Christianity), a Jewish rabbi can also have daily access to this unhappy infidel. I give to both priests four weeks to convert her. If, at the end of that time, she continues contumacious, she must be punished as the Josephine Code directs, with fifty lashes." [Footnote: Gross-Hoffinger, iii., p. 116.]
The emperor had dictated this letter in sharp biting tones, while Gunther, nothing apprehending, had written it. Once only, when the accused had been designated as a Jewess, his pen faltered, and his handsome, noble face was contracted for a moment by pain. But the pang had been sympathetic and momentary.
"Have you written?" asked the emperor, striking the table with his clinched hand.
"I have written, sire," replied Gunther, in his fine, sonorous voice, whose familiar tones, in spite of himself, stirred the innermost depths of his misguided sovereign's heart.
"Now, answer me one question," continued Joseph, hoarsely. "have you ever received a thousand ducats from Eskeles Flies?"
Again the head of one of the secretaries was furtively raised, the hands shook like aspen-leaves, and the eyes gave one rapid glance toward the side of the table where Gunther sat.
The emperor, as before, was too blinded by passion to see any thing save the innocent object of his wrath. Gunther was surprised at the tone in which the question had been asked; and seemed at last to be aware that it was one full of significance. But his reply was prompt and calm.
"Yes, sire, I received that sum yesterday. Not for me, but for a lady whose name is well known to your majesty. It was a legacy left by her mother."
Joseph laughed scornfully. "Give me the note to the cardinal," cried he. Gunther presented it, and having signed it, the emperor gave it into the hands of the secretary opposite. "Fold and address the letter," said he. "But stop—write first the address of the person who presumes to avow herself a Deist in the face of my laws. Her name is Rachel Eskeles Flies."
A cry of anguish burst from Gunther's lips, and in his madness he would have snatched the horrid missive from the secretary's hands. But he recollected himself, and turning his blanched face toward the emperor, he exclaimed:
"Mercy, gracious sovereign, mercy for my Rachel! You have been wickedly deceived."
"Ay," cried Joseph, "I have been wickedly deceived; but he who has dared to betray me, shall be made to suffer for his crime. Rise from this table and leave this room. You are dismissed from my service as a false traitor!"
"What, your majesty!" cried Gunther, in tones that were proud and defiant. "You defame me without so much as telling me of what I am accused! without allowing me the right of justification Tell me—what have I done?"
"Ask your own conscience, if you have one, and find an answer there!" cried Joseph, furious at the lofty bearing of his victim.
"If your majesty refuses me that poor boon," continued Gunther, "I appeal to the laws. My legal judges will be bound to hear me publicly accused, and to listen to my defence!"
"I am your accuser and your judge—your only judge," replied Joseph, with concentrated passion. "I have already found you guilty, and have already sentenced you."
"But why, why?" cried Gunther. "If you would not drive me mad, tell me why?"
"I shall do nothing but carry out your sentence," cried Joseph ringing a bell. "Are the men without?" said he to the page who answered his summons.
"Yes, your majesty. A subaltern of the third regiment is without, with four soldiers."
"Show them in!" The page opened the door, and the men entered.
"You march to Hungary to your new garrison to-day, do you not?" said the emperor.
"Yes, sire—we march in one hour," was the reply.
"Take this man with you as a recruit."
Gunther started forward, and with an exclamation of horror fell at the emperor's feet. "Mercy! mercy!" gasped he.
"No mercy, but justice for all men!" cried Joseph, stamping his foot. Then motioning to the soldiers, he said: "Take him away and watch him closely, lest he escape. Equip him and put him in the ranks. Away with you!"
The men advanced, and Gunther, seeing that any further appeal was vain, suffered himself to be led away in silence. The door closed behind them, and the emperor was alone with his three secretaries. There was a long, fearful pause, through which the retreating steps of the soldiers and their victim were heard. When the echoes had died away, the emperor spoke in hard, cold tones:
"Gunther was a traitor, who betrayed the secrets of the state for gold. I discovered his treachery, and have punished him accordingly. Take warning by his fate!"
So saying, he passed into his cabinet, and once more gave vent to his bitter grief.
"I could not do otherwise," thought he. "I, who would not spare Podstadsky and Szekuly, could not spare this traitor, though he has been very dear to me indeed. He must suffer, but I shall suffer with him. Mercy is so much more natural to man than justice! Still, mercy is the prerogative of Heaven alone. I am here to be equitable to all."
An hour later the third regiment left Vienna for Szegedin, their new garrison. A few wagons followed with the luggage and the sick men who were unable to encounter the hardships of that formidable march to Hungary. In one of these wagons lay the new recruit. His eves glared with delirium, and his lips were parched with raging fever. For a moment he seemed to awake from his dream of madness, for he raised himself a little, and murmured, "Where am I?" No one answered him, but a flash of memory revealed to him the horrors of his situation, and falling back with a shudder, he cried out, "Rachel, my Rachel!" and then relapsed into delirium.
The same evening, Baron Eskeles Flies left his hotel on foot, and hastily traversing the streets, stopped before a house where, ascending to the second story, he rang the bell. A richly-liveried servant opened the door at the head of the staircase.
"Is the imperial secretary Warkenhold within?" asked the baron.
The servant did not know—he would see; but the banker saved him the trouble by putting him aside, and entering the little vestibule.
"Show me the way," said he; "you need not announce me. A rich man is welcome everywhere."
The servant obeyed, and conducted the banker through a suite of apartments whose splendor he contemplated with a sneer. "Now go," said he, as the servant pointed to a portiere. "I shall announce myself."
He drew the portiere and knocked. Then, without waiting for an answer, he entered the room.
"Eskeles Flies!" cried the occupant, who was lounging on a sofa, and was no other than the secretary that had been so disturbed by the emperor's words in the morning. "Eskeles Flies!" repeated he, springing from the sofa, and hastening forward.
"Yes, Baron Eskeles Flies," replied the banker, proudly.
"But what brings you to me?" cried Warkenhold, terrified. "Your visit exposes me to danger."
"Nobody knows of my visit, for I came on foot; and let me tell you, Herr Warkenhold, that my presence in your house is an honor which is not apt to endanger you."
"Only, to-day, only at this time," murmured Warkenhold, apologetically.
"Then you should have come to me for your money. You said you were in great want, having lost every thing at cards, and so I hasten to acquit myself of my debt. Here is a draft for one thousand ducats."
"Hush, for the love of Heaven!"—whispered Warkenhold.
"What can I do with a draft? I never would dare present it for payment, for you know that the emperor keeps spies with a hundred eyes to track his employes. And suppose I go to your office, I expose myself to discovery."
"Not at all," interrupted the banker, laughing. "Who should betray you? Not I. And no one but us two are in the secret. Who, then, should tell the emperor that you were hidden behind the door while he dictated his dispatches, and that you are such a skilful imitator? I swear that Gunther himself would have been staggered had he seen those letters! They are capital, and I congratulate you. You are a genius."
"Great God! must you annoy me with repetition of all that I did?" cried the secretary, with asperity. "Is it not enough that I am already wretched, as I look back to the terrible scenes of the morning? I cannot banish the image of that unhappy Gunther from my mind. I felt at one time as if I must confess and save him."
"Ha, ha! did you? Then it was terrible, was it? He thundered like another Rhadamanthus, did he, that sapient emperor? And forced poor, innocent Gunther to drink of the chalice we had prepared for him? Oh, rare, far-seeing judge!—Tell me all about it, Warkenhold."
Warkenhold, shuddering, repeated what had taken place. When he spoke of the question relating to the thousand ducats, Eskeles Flies interrupted him.
"And of course he had to say yes. Gunther is of knightly veracity, and I invented the story of the legacy, in anticipation of that question. Oh, how admirably my calculations have been made! Let me hear the rest."
Warkenhold went on, and when he had concluded his woful narrative, the banker nodded and said:
"You are a genius. You narrate as well as you eavesdrop and forge! Upon my word, you have entertained as well as you have served me! My success in this affair is entirely owing to you. You are as skilful as your great Christian ancestor, Judas; but as I hope you are not such a fool as to go out and hang yourself, here are fifty ducats above our bargain. They are for your mistress."
He drew out his purse and counted the gold.
"I thank you," said Warkenhold, almost inaudibly. "I must take the money, for I am sorely pressed; but I would give my right hand not to have been forced to do this thing!"
"Pray say the left. Your right hand is a treasure not lightly to be parted with," said the banker, laughing. "But a truce to sentiment. It is useless for you to drape yourself in the toga of honor or benevolence. Our business is at an end. You have nothing more to claim, I believe?"
"Nothing whatever; I am—"
"Then," said the banker taking up his hat, "we have nothing further to say to each other. You have been the instrument of my righteous vengeance; but as I have an antipathy to villains, let me never see so much as a glance of recognition from you again. From this hour we are strangers. Adieu!"