"Naundorff is despoiled, de Brezé murdered, Giacinto executed. They shall be avenged. Guard the trunk; as for the limbs they are despicable."
Such communications seldom troubled the Minister, accustomed as he was to the language of charlatans. He usually destroyed the epistles, smiling a Machiavellian smile. But this letter troubled him, for it was not the first of the series; others had periodically preceded it, giving no clue to the writer and seeming to have for object a warning to the intended victim.
"There is not a thread of the net which I may not snap at will," he soliloquized. "They are not indeed thinking of avenging de Brezé or Naundorff—nor even that insignificant Carbonaro whom I have had to execute. I did not do so as retaliation for Volpetti's death. However much I miss him, I can not replace him. He was my hands and feet. But pshaw! in state-craft we waive vengeance and travel direct to our ends,—the Carbonari to the demolishing of the throne, I to the sustaining of it. To sustain it I have wrought miracles. Had I not obtained the papers which have cost me Volpetti, alas for the dynasty! The happy exit must console me for the loss of my best man."
Re-reading the anonymous sheet, his attention was arrested by the phrase "Guard the trunk."
"Who is the trunk?" he asked himself. "I should overestimate even my own importance to suppose they mean me. Can it be the King? Poor decayed trunk, soon to fall beneath the great woodman's ax! Can it be his brother? Impossible!—that hollow reactionary, incorrigible trunk. He is the Carbonari's best ally. I know not what will be the outcome of the King's succumbing to gout. Can it be the Duke Louis? Sterile trunk! No, if any one in particular is signified, 'tis Ferdinand,—the destined perpetuator of the race. Let us see! Lecazes, imagine yourself a conspirator. Whom would you attack? Why Ferdinand! Ferdinand the debonnaire, the well-loved, the generator of heirs. May this writing be the effusion of some fool? Or is it a conspirator's dash of romantic honor in warning the intended victim? However that be, I must warn the Prince. He is as unsuspicious and gay and heroic as his ancestor, Henry of Navarre. Flatterers assure him that he is that great monarch's prototype. He and his wife go about so freely and to every kind of diversion. During one of these sky-larkings—Ah! kings may not live as other men. Naundorff little realizes the good turn I did him and his family by barring his approach to the throne, nor she either, the audacious little intriguante. She has ample opportunity now to devote her energies to the weaving of Flemish laces."
These thoughts still occupied him when he that afternoon entered the royal cabinet. Before the monarch stood a table whose draperies were arranged to conceal the swollen feet, for the gout grew daily worse. Nevertheless, in frequent carriage rides and an incessant sortie of fine classic raillery from his patrician lips, Louis XVIII demonstrated an increased activity.
When Lecazes entered, the valetudinarian smiled piquantly, as one might in slipping manacles on the wrists of an astute diplomat. Handing the Minister a threatening letter, he vehemently asked:
"What does this mean, Baron? I am asked for an audience. I am told that some one possesses knowledge of impending evil to the royal family. I am warned that the refusing of this interview will be the cause of disaster to those dearest to me. It follows that some one is better informed than I concerning our interests. Is not this a humiliating position for a King?"
As Lecazes was about to answer, there entered unannounced a man in the prime of life. He had a prepossessing nonchalant impetuous manner. This was Prince Ferdinand, second son of the King's brother Charles, sole hope of the race's continuation. He was not handsome but he possessed in a high manner the simple frankness and graceful address characteristic of certain members of the Bourbon family, which was so captivating as to create around them, even in times of popular discontent, an atmosphere of loyalty. Ferdinand was short of stature and irregular in feature, but his bright glance and irradiating vitality acted always as a great jubilant wave enveloping all near him. A generous and cordial nature, rising spontaneously to heroism, was revealed in his face, mingled with a noble energy.
"Sire," he said, kissing his uncle's hand, "I pray you to pardon my intrusion. I have an urgent communication which must not be delayed a moment."