“‘I had for some time observed a change in Isabella—an embarrassment for which she herself, when taxed with it by me, would account by attributing it to the perpetual disputes and tracasseries which she had to endure with her father, concerning her attachment to me. The old count had long since forbidden all intercourse between us, but we had kept up an active correspondence, and obtained frequent interviews together by means of the Abbé Giordoni, and I was therefore justified in believing in her truth. Judge, then, of my despair, when told that the contessa, weary of the struggle she had to endure in her own home on my account, had resolved to retire to a convent, with the determination never to see or correspond with me until her father should consent to our union! She well knew that this condition was equivalent to a total rupture. I had given up everything for her sake, and she now deserted me!
“‘You, my friends, have both of you passed through the ordeal of passion, and can best judge of the storm of hate and rage which this conviction raised within my bosom—how in my bitterness I forswore her love, and cursed her very name! It was then that Giordoni came to my aid with his specious arguments and eloquent reasonings. He pointed out to me the utter nothingness of human love, and persuaded me to turn my energies into another channel, and, by taking priest’s orders, to seek forgetfulness of my wrongs in satisfied ambition.
“‘I was now, as I have told you, without resource, a blighted and a disappointed man; his proposition suited well with the state of feeling which I experienced at the time, and I accepted it without hesitation. I was actuated, in taking this step, by a sentiment of revenge, and was glad to prove to the faithless Isabella that I relied no longer on her promises—that I reckoned no longer on her love. You know how well and how truly I fulfilled my office—how ardently I strove in the cause of the Jesuits—and how at Lyons I succeeded in my mission—and when the dauphin called me to be his counsellor and director, how indefatigably I strove to avert the evil day, which I felt was dawning for the “Society.”
“‘I worked in earnest, and spared neither toil nor anxiety in the fulfilment of my task. I might have persisted to this day, had it not been for a circumstance which changed the whole end and aim of my existence. I had not been long an inmate of Saint Cloud, when I received, from Turin, a packet from my agent, the man whom I had chosen to manage the estate when I was about to depart, to fly from the influence of Giordoni. He had written to me when at the point of death, and the torments of his conscience had instigated him to make a full confession of the deceptions of which I had been the victim, and in which he had been assisted by Giordoni. The Order of Jesus had long coveted the estate belonging to the Cerutti. The abbé had undertaken to acquire it. My unhappy brother, being of a religious turn, had fallen an easy victim.
“‘Once a member of the order, his task was to betray every word and action which passed in our family, to act as spy upon every proceeding in his father’s house, it was his remorse at the part he was compelled to play, which had caused the bitter melancholy that had so distressed me in former years. He had been commissioned to draw me to the villa V——. This he had resisted, well knowing to what end I was to be attracted thither. My own desire had, however, served his vow of blind obedience; but, as he had proved himself a weak servant, he was dismissed in disgrace, and despatched to another station. The agent was chosen in his stead, and well did he execute his foul task. Not a look, not a thought of ours but what was written down and conveyed to Giordoni; not a letter but was opened, not a message but was reported. As you have seen, I fell an easy prey to the cunning of the Jesuit—the falsehood of the Jesuitess. The man, in his confession, went on to relate, with tears of repentance, he said, that he himself had stabbed Cesario, by “higher command.” He had read the letter before delivering it to me, and the person “in command” had feared that our meeting would have marred all.
“‘There was no further revelation; the name of the person “in command” was withheld, but hypocritical still, even at the dying hour, the fellow ended abruptly by calling on me to offer up my prayers for the repose of his eternal soul. My prayers! he has my everlasting curses even in his grave.’
“M. de Talleyrand told me that Cerutti had grown so excited while relating the latter portion of his history, that the two friends desired him to desist, and to leave the recital till another time. It appears that, even with this dread secret on his mind, further misery was yet in reserve for Cerutti.
“The Order of Jesus was tottering to its basis. Agents of the Society filled every court in Europe, in spite of the contumely cast upon them, most especially in France; yet was it there that they were most active in their manœuvres. By a fatality, which, however, will not appear singular when we remember the talent which she had already displayed, and the high position she held in the Order—it was the Contessa Isabella de V——, now become Marquise de F——t, who was deputed to Saint Cloud, which had become the head-quarters of Jesuitical intrigue. There was no witness to the first interview which took place between Cerutti and his faithless love; but they say that the scene must have been terrific, for he was carried from the apartment to his bed in a senseless state, and remained for months paralysed in every limb. He never recovered from the shock which this event had given to his constitution. Twenty years afterwards, when intimate with Mirabeau and Talleyrand, he could not mention the name of the Marquise de F——t, without betraying every symptom of the most powerful emotion, and would confess that, even amid the excitement of the stirring events in which he had been called to take a part, her image was never absent from his mind.
“There is little doubt that, had circumstances taken their natural course, she would have regained as great an influence as she had before possessed. It is certain that, during the proscription of the nobility, her safety alone caused anxiety to Cerutti, and even at his latest hour, her name was hovering on his lips. The death of Cerutti was severely felt by the republicans, who hesitated not to attribute to him a greater share of talent than even that possessed by Mirabeau; and I have heard M. de Talleyrand frequently declare that the plan of every speech pronounced by the latter was submitted to Cerutti before it was uttered in the assembly.
“The attachment of the two friends was ardent and sincere, proof against calumny, and firm in spite of jealous intrigue. Chosen to pronounce the funeral oration of Mirabeau, Cerutti burst into tears as he concluded, declaring that he should not long survive the loss he had sustained. His prediction was fulfilled. In less than a year from that very day, he himself descended to the tomb, and M. de Talleyrand alone remained of that all-powerful trio, whose efforts, combined, would have given another turn to the destinies of Europe.”