"Notwithstanding the eminent qualities of the prince and princess, we will never place the reins of our enterprise in their hands. It is true they conspire: yet they are ignorant how terrible is the work to which they lend the aid of their name, fortune and credit. They imagine that they toil merely to diminish the authority of their master, and paralyse the efforts of his ambition. The Princess Amelia carries her zeal to a kind of republican enthusiasm, and she is not the only crowned head agitated now by a dream of ancient grandeur. All the petty princes of Germany learned the Telemachus of Fenelon by heart during their youth, and now feed on Montesquieu, Voltaire and Helvetius. They do not proceed farther than a certain ideal of aristocratic government, regularly balanced, in which, of course, they would have the best places. You may judge of their logic and good faith by what you have observed of the strange contrast between the actions and maxims, deeds and words, of Frederick. They are all copies more or less defaced, more or little outré, of this model of philosophical tyrants. But as they are not absolute, their conduct is less shocking, and might deceive you as to the use they would make of it. We do not suffer ourselves to be deceived. We suffer these victims of ennui, these dangerous friends, to sit on symbolical thrones. They imagine themselves to be pontiffs, and fancy they have the key of the sacred mystery, as of yore the chief of the holy empire persuaded himself that he was fictitiously elected chief of the secret tribunal, and commanded the terrible army of the Free Judges; yet we are masters of their power and of every intention of their life; and while they believe themselves our generals, they are our lieutenants; and never, until the fatal day written in the book of fate for their fall, will they know that they have themselves contributed to their own ruin.
"Such is the dark side of our enterprise. One must modify certain laws of a quiet conscience when the heart is open to holy fanaticism. Will you have courage, young priestess of the pure heart and sincere voice, to do so?"
"After all you have told me," said Consuelo, after a moment's silence, "I cannot withdraw. A single scruple might launch me into a series of reveries and terrors which would lead me into difficulty. I have received your stern instructions and feel that I no longer belong to myself. Alas! yes, I own that I will often suffer from the duty I have imposed on myself; for I bitterly regret, even now, that I was forced to tell Frederick a falsehood to save the life of a friend in danger. Let me blush for the last time, as souls pure from all fraud do, and mourn over the decay of the loss of my innocence. I cannot restrain this sorrow, but I will not dwell on cowardly and useless remorse. I can be no longer the harmless, careless girl I was. I have ceased already to be so, since I am forced to conspire against tyrants, or inform on the liberators of humanity. I have touched the tree of science; its fruits are bitter, yet I will not cast them from me. Knowledge is a misfortune; but to refuse to act is a crime, when we know what is to be done."
"Your reply is bold," said the initiator. "We are satisfied with you. To-morrow evening we will proceed with your initiation. Prepare yourself during the day for a new baptism, by meditation and prayer, and by confession, even if your mind be unoccupied by all personal interests."
[CHAPTER XXXII]
At dawn, Consuelo was awakened by the sounds of the horn and the barking of dogs. When Matteus came to bring her breakfast, he told her there had been a great battue of deer and wild boar in the forest. "More than a hundred guests," he said, "had assembled at the castle, to participate in this lordly amusement." Consuelo understood that a large number of her sons, affiliated with the order, had assembled under the pretext of the chase, in this castle, which was the principal rendezvous of the most important of the meetings of the Invisibles. She was not a little shocked that perhaps all these men would be witnesses of her initiation, and asked if it could really be so interesting an affair to the order as to attract so great a crowd of its members. She made an effort to meditate, for the purpose of abiding by the directions of the initiator: her attention, however, was distracted by an internal emotion, and by vague fears, by fanfares, the gallop of horses, and the baying of bloodhounds through the woods all day long. Was this battue real or imaginary? Was Albert converted so completely to all the habits of ordinary life, as to participate in such a sport, and shed the blood of innocent beasts? Would not Leverani leave this pleasure party, and, taking advantage of the disorder, molest the neophyte in the privacy of her retreat?
Consuelo saw nothing that passed out of doors, and Leverani did not come. Matteus, too much occupied, beyond doubt, at the castle to think of her, brought her no dinner. Was this, as Supperville said, a fast carefully imposed, a fast intended to weaken the mental powers of the adept?
Towards night, when she returned to the library, whence she had gone an hour before to take the air, she shrank with terror at the sight of a man, red and masked, sitting in her chair. Soon, however, she regained her presence of mind, for she recognized the frail old man who was her spiritual father. "My child," said he, rising and coming to meet her, "have you nothing to say to me? Have I yet your confidence?"
"You have, sir," said Consuelo, making him sit on the chair, and taking a folding chair in the embrasure of the window; "I have long wished to speak to you."