“And we are ready for the task,” said the priest. “We fostered this revolt, because we saw it was better to lop off a diseased limb than to suffer the gangrene to spread over the entire body; better to cast down into utter perdition the wild democrats, who but half believed us, than peril the countless millions of true Catholics. Nay, more, we acted with your counsel and concurrence. That revolt has already borne its fruits. Men see no issue to the struggle they are engaged in. The men of moderation are overborne by the wild clamor of the factionist. Anarchy is amongst them, and now is our moment to bid the contest cease, and earn from mankind the glorious epithet of 'peacemaker.' The tide of victory once turned, see how the mind of Europe will turn with it. Good wishes are prone to go with the battalions that advance!”
“Good wishes are not too costly a sympathy,” said the Russian, coolly.
“It is to that point I am coming, Prince,” said the Abbé; “nor have I intruded myself on your privacy to-day merely to discuss the public opinion of Europe. The whole of this question lies in a narrow compass. It is time that this struggle should cease,—it is, at least, time that the tide of conquest should turn. Were Austria free to use her strength, we might trust the issue to herself; but she is not, and we must help her. I hold here the means,” said he, placing on the table a heavy pocket-book crammed with letters. “This,” said he, taking up one large sealed packet, “is an autograph from his Holiness, commanding Durando to halt at the Po, and under no circumstances to cross the frontier. This,” continued he, showing another, “is to Ghirardi, to grant leave of absence to all officers who desire to return to their homes. This is to Krasaletzki, to provide for the disbandment of his legion. The King of Naples waits but for the signal to recall General Pepe and his contingent, fifteen thousand strong. And now, Prince, there is but one other voice in Europe we wait for—the Czar's!”
“His Imperial Majesty has ever wished well to the cause of order,” said the Russian, with a studied calm of manner.
“Away with such trifling as this!” said D'Esmonde, passionately; “nor do not try to impose on me by those courteous generalities that amuse cabinets. Russia speaks to Western Europe best by her gold. The 'rouble' can come where the 'Cossack' cannot! There are men with those armies that comprehend no other argument——whose swords have their price. Our treasures are exhausted; the sacred vessels of our altars—the golden ornaments of our shrines—are gone. You alone can aid us at this moment. It is no barren generosity, Prince! you are combating your Poles more cheaply beside the Po and the Adige than on the banks of the Vistula! you are doing more! you are breaking up those ancient alliances of Europe whose existence excluded you from continental power! you are buying your freedom to sit down among the rulers of the Old World, and accustoming the nations of the West to the voice of the Boyard in their councils! And, greatest of all, you are crushing into annihilation that spirit of revolt that now rages like a pestilence. But why do I speak of these things to one like you? you know full well the terms of the compact Your own handwriting has confessed it.”
Midchekoff gave a slight—a very slight—movement of surprise, but never spoke.
“Yes,” continued D'Esmonde, “I have within that pocket-book at this moment the receipt of Count Grünenburg, the Austrian Secretary-at-War, for the second instalment of a loan advanced by Prince Midchekoff to the Imperial Government. I have a copy of the order in council acknowledging in terms of gratitude the aid, and recommending that the cross of St. Stephen should be conferred on the illustrious lender. And, less gracious than these,” added he, with sarcastic bitterness, “I have the record of the Emperor's scruples about according the first-class order of the Empire to one whose nobility was but left-handed. Were these to appear to-morrow in the Razionale, is it only your pride as a prince that would be humbled? Or think you that a single stone would rest upon another in this gorgeous edifice where we are standing? Who or what could restrain an infuriated populace from wreaking their vengeance on the traitor? Who would lift a hand against the pillage of this splendor, and the desecration of this magnificence? It is not willingly that I tell you these things, nor had I ever spoken of them if you had but heard me with fitting attention. I know, too, the price at which they are uttered. We never can be friends; but that is of small moment Our cause—ours, I say, for it is yours no less than mine—is above such consideration.”
“How much do you require?” said Midchekoff, as he leaned his arm on the chimney-piece, and stared calmly at the Abbé.
“Ghirardi and his staff demand two hundred thousand francs; Albizi will be a cheaper bargain. Marionetti and his force will be surrounded, and retire from Lombardy on parole of not serving during the campaign,——he only asks enough to emigrate with. Then, there is the Commissary of the Crociati,—he is quite ready to become his own paymaster. There are others of inferior rank and pretensions, with whom I shall treat personally. The press, particularly of England, will be the difficulty; but its importance is above all price. The public mind must be brought back, from its sympathy for a people, to regard the rulers more favorably. Anarchy and misrule must be displayed in their most glaring colors. The Crociati will do us good service here; their crimes would sully a holier crusade than this! But I weary you, sir,” said the Abbé, stopping suddenly, and observing that Midchekoff, instead of seeming to listen, was busily occupied in writing.
“Morlache holds bills of mine to this amount,” said the Prince, showing a list of several large sums; “he will place them at your disposal on your giving a receipt for them. This is an order, also, regarding certain emeralds I have commissioned him to have mounted in gold. He need not do so, but will dispose of the gems, as I shall not want them.” A very slight flush here colored his cheek, and he paused as if some bitter thought had crossed his mind.