“He wants to please Madame de la Baudraye,” replied the new Sous-prefet.
“Well, then I will read straight on,” said Lousteau solemnly.
Everybody listened in dead silence.
OR ROMAN REVENGE 219
A deep groan answered Rinaldo’s
cry, but in his alarm he took it for
an echo, so weak and hollow was
the sound. It could not proceed
from any human breast.
“Santa Maria!” said the voice.
“If I stir from this spot I shall
never find it again,” thought Ri-
naldo, when he had recovered his
usual presence of mind. “If I knock,
I shall be discovered. What am I
to do?”
“Who is here?” asked the voice.
“Hallo!” cried the brigand; “do
the toads here talk?”
“I am the Duke of Bracciano.
Whoever you may be, if you are not
a follower of the Duchess’, in the
name of all the saints, come towards
me.”
220 OLYMPIA
“I should have to know where to
find you, Monsieur le Duc,” said Ri-
naldo, with the insolence of a man
who knows himself to be necessary.
“I can see you, my friend, for my
eyes are accustomed to the darkness.
Listen: walk straight forward—
good; now turn to the left—come
on—this way. There, we are close
to each other.”
Rinaldo putting out his hands as
a precaution, touched some iron
bars.
“I am being deceived,” cried the
bandit.
“No, you are touching my cage.
OR ROMAN REVENGE 221
Sit down on a broken shaft of por-
phyry that is there.”
“How can the Duke of Bracciano
be in a cage?” asked the brigand.
“My friend, I have been here for
thirty months, standing up, unable
to sit down——But you, who are
you?”
“I am Rinaldo, prince of the Cam-
pagna, the chief of four-and-twenty
brave men whom the law describes
as miscreants, whom all the ladies
admire, and whom judges hang in
obedience to an old habit.”
“God be praised! I am saved.
An honest man would have been
afraid, whereas I am sure of coming
to an understanding with you,”
cried the Duke. “Oh, my worthy
222 OLYMPIA
deliverer, you must be armed to the
teeth.”
“E verissimo” (most true).
“Do you happen to have—”
“Yes, files, pincers—Corpo di
Bacco! I came to borrow the treas-
ures of the Bracciani on a long
loan.”
“You will earn a handsome share
of them very legitimately, my good
Rinaldo, and we may possibly go
man hunting together—”
“You surprise me, Eccellenza!”
“Listen to me, Rinaldo. I will
say nothing of the craving for
vengeance that gnaws at my heart.
I have been here for thirty months
—you too are Italian—you will un-
OR ROMAN REVENGE 223
derstand me! Alas, my friend, my
fatigue and my horrible incarcera-
tion are nothing in comparison
with the rage that devours my soul.
The Duchess of Bracciano is still
one of the most beautiful women in
Rome. I loved her well enough to
be jealous—”
“You, her husband!”
“Yes, I was wrong, no doubt.”
“It is not the correct thing, to be
sure,” said Rinaldo.
“My jealousy was roused by the
Duchess’ conduct,” the Duke went
on. “The event proved me right. A
young Frenchman fell in love with
Olympia, and she loved him. I had
proofs of their reciprocal affection
“Pray excuse me, ladies,” said Lousteau, “but I find it impossible to go on without remarking to you how direct this Empire literature is, going to the point without any details, a characteristic, as it seems to me, of a primitive time. The literature of that period holds a place between the summaries of chapters in Telemaque and the categorical reports of a public office. It had ideas, but refrained from expressing them, it was so scornful! It was observant, but would not communicate its observations to any one, it was so miserly! Nobody but Fouche ever mentioned what he had observed. ‘At that time,’ to quote the words of one of the most imbecile critics in the Revue des Deux Mondes, ‘literature was content with a clear sketch and the simple outline of all antique statues. It did not dance over its periods.’—I should think not! It had no periods to dance over. It had no words to play with. You were plainly told that Lubin loved Toinette; that Toinette did not love Lubin; that Lubin killed Toinette and the police caught Lubin, who was put in prison, tried at the assizes, and guillotined.—A strong sketch, a clear outline! What a noble drama! Well, in these days the barbarians make words sparkle.”
“Like a hair in a frost,” said Monsieur de Clagny.
“So those are the airs you affect?”[*] retorted Lousteau.
[*] The rendering given above is only intended to link the various
speeches into coherence; it has no resemblance with the French. In
the original, “Font chatoyer les mots.”
“Et quelquefois les morts,” dit Monsieur de Clagny.
“Ah! Lousteau! vous vous donnez de ces R-la (airs-la).”
Literally: “And sometimes the dead.”—“Ah, are those the airs you
assume?”—the play on the insertion of the letter R (mots,
morts) has no meaning in English.
“What can he mean?” asked Madame de Clagny, puzzled by this vile pun.
“I seem to be walking in the dark,” replied the Mayoress.