“‘My God, what could be the meaning of all this? How came it that this man had thus obtained such influence? Day by day did it increase and grow more irksome, still drawing, as it were, a charmed circle round my very existence, diminishing in circumference until it had grown so small that I could not even turn without feeling wounded by its pressure; every day and every hour drew the coils yet closer. It was then that I ended where I ought to have begun, and set myself earnestly to work to examine the character of the man, who had, in spite of me, gained such ascendancy over my family. To my great astonishment, I found him a man of the keenest wit and most consummate knowledge of the world, whose practical learning and experience were universal, whose energy and perseverance were dauntless. I soon discovered, with a feeling of terror which I cannot describe, that he had fathomed my character with as much accuracy as though I had lived with him from my youth upwards. He knew of my scorn and hatred of restraint, and therefore had used none. He knew that I was of a proud and melancholy temperament, and therefore had never roused my ire by opposition. I felt a bitter contempt for myself, when I found that in all things it was his system to humour me. The hour came at last, however, for the unravelling of all the mystery.
“‘One day, Giordoni came to me with busy and important looks, and with a hurried air, to consult me upon the plan of a building he was about to erect upon the ground which he had bought of Cesario. It was within view of the windows of my own château, and therefore it was the act of a friend to consult me upon the form and fashion of its structure, and, as in duty bound, I thanked him heartily for the kind attention.
“‘It was a chapel to Saint Ignatius which he was about to erect, “en attendant the convent,” he added, with a smile bland and affable, “which it was his intention to found when he should grow richer.” The dedication startled me.
“‘Not a convent of Jesuits?’ said I, faintly, for I had imbibed a share of the popular hatred, which, just at that time, the Order had inspired throughout the whole of Europe.
“‘The abbé smiled again, yet more peaceably than before. “Pardon me,” replied he, in a gentle tone, “our Order has need of a station in this part of the country. We are poorly represented, my friend, observe—” and he drew forth his memorandum-book, “from Saint Tomaso to Mabli, eight leagues, from Mabli to this place, seventeen; it is too far.”
“‘The secret then was out; the whole mystery of the man, his perseverance and his patience, his confidence in himself, his utter contempt of me. He was a Jesuit—an active, busy, meddling Jesuit—one who held a degree in the Order—one who had command and authority, and could bid any of his underlings, slaves to his will, who was himself a slave, do his pleasure at the moment and without a murmur, even though the order should have been to murder his best friend, or betray to death his own mother; who himself durst not hesitate in the commission of any crime, provided it were done for the honour and advancement of the “Blessed Order of Jesus!”
“‘I am now convinced that, natural and simple as this avowal then appeared, it had been prepared de longue main, and that much was at that very moment depending upon the manner in which it would be received by me. He managed well, however, in hiding the emotion which my startled manner and my exclamations of surprise and displeasure must have occasioned him, and launched forth at once, with graceful eloquence, upon the advantages of the Order of Jesus over all others—the power, the influence, which the meanest member of the “Society” possessed over every individual within his sphere. He said that the confidence and strength of the association were so great, that nought could resist its influence. He showed me on the map how its ramifications had spread throughout Europe, until they had enveloped every civilized country as in a web, from which it was impossible to get free, and, when he had concluded, he took me out to inspect the workmen at the chapel, and to view the new plantation which he had commenced. I beheld it indeed, and with a sad presentiment remarked that the avenues of lime trees, which were already laid down, were all turned in the direction of my own château. I scarcely knew what it was that I dreaded, and yet felt a certainty of coming evil which completely overpowered every faculty.
“‘You will smile at the determination which I took that very night—you will say that it was that of a schoolboy—a coward—but you cannot know the terror which pervaded the population of our country at that very period, on account of the subtlety of the Jesuits. It had become the bugbear of society. The feeling had been nursed by the secret enemies of the Order, sent from France, where its dissolution had already been decreed in the boudoirs of Trianon, by the vindictive hatred of Madame de Pompadour. I determined, then, to flee—to leave my property in the hands of the agent, and to travel for a while, until the power of the serpent which was thus gaining ground upon me was weakened, or that I felt myself strong enough to encounter its cold and slimy coils without fear. I passed several days in making my preparations for the journey I meant to take, and confided my intentions to no one on earth save the overseer of the estate in whose hands I was about to place my interests. Cesario was absent. I would not even venture to write to him until I had set forth, for my terror of betrayal had grown so puerile that I even feared the letter might be opened!
“‘Everything was ready for my departure. The agent, a plain, honest man, had sworn to be as secret as the grave, and when, one evening, I took my leave of the eternal Giordoni, who now passed not a single day without paying me his lengthened visit, I laughed at his form of farewell. “À demain, à demain!” called he from the gate; “to-morrow we will talk about the road from your grounds to my chapel—there must be a road, Cerutti—the high wall must come down. What need of walls between such friends as we?”
“‘I laughed as I pressed his hand in feigned warmth, echoing his portentous words of adieu. I knew that on the morrow I should be far enough away. He smiled likewise as he exclaimed, once more looking me earnestly in the face, “Farewell, my friend, my dearest friend, à demain donc, à demain!”