“Dr. Baleinier spoke a word to him about it, as well as about the last sacraments; but Father Rodin exclaimed, with great irritation, that they did not leave him a moment’s peace, that he had as much care as any one for his salvation, and that—”
“Per Bacco! I am not thinking of him,” cried the cardinal, interrupting Ange Modeste Rousselet with his pagan oath, and raising his sharp voice to a still higher key; “I am not thinking of him, but of the interests of the Company. It is indispensable that the reverend father should receive the sacraments with the most splendid solemnity, and that his end should not only be Christian, but exemplary. All the people in the house, and even strangers, should be invited to the spectacle, so that his edifying death may produce an excellent sensation.”
“That is what Fathers Grison and Brunet have already endeavored to persuade his reverence, my lord; but your Eminence knows with what impatience Father Rodin received this advice, and Dr. Baleinier did not venture to persist, for fear of advancing a fatal crisis.”
“Well, I will venture to do it; for in these times of revolutionary impiety, a solemnly Christian death would produce a very salutary effect on the public. It would indeed be proper to make the necessary preparations to embalm the reverend father: he might then lie in state for some days, with lighted tapers, according to Romish custom. My secretary would furnish the design for the bier; it would be very splendid and imposing; from his position in the Order, Father Rodin is entitled to have everything in the most sumptuous style. He must have at least six hundred tapers, and a dozen funeral lamps, burning spirits of wine, to hang just over the body, and light it from above: the effect would be excellent. We must also distribute little tracts to the people, concerning the pious and ascetic life of his reverence—”
Here a sudden noise, like that of some piece of metal thrown angrily on the floor, was heard from the next room, in which was the sick man, and interrupted the prelate in his description.
“I hope Father Rodin has not heard you talk of embalming him, my lord,” said Rousselet, in a whisper: “his bed touches the partition, and almost everything is audible through it.”
“If Father Rodin has heard me,” answered the cardinal, sinking his voice, and retiring to the other end of the room, “this circumstance will enable me to enter at once on the business; but, in any case, I persist in believing that the embalming and the lying in state are required to make a good effect upon the public. The people are already frightened at the cholera, and such funeral pomp would have no small influence on the imagination.”
“I would venture to observe to your Eminence, that here the laws are opposed to such exhibitions.”
“The laws—already the laws!” said the cardinal, angrily; “has not Rome also her laws? And is not every priest a subject of Rome? Is it not time—”
But, not choosing, doubtless, to begin a more explicit conversation with the young doctor, the prelate resumed, “We will talk of this hereafter. But, tell me, since my last visit, has the reverend father had any fresh attacks of delirium?”