"His Majesty has not said."
My toilet was soon completed, and I was ushered into the presence of the cardinal, who was seated at breakfast. His Irish valet was in attendance. The plainness of his equipage contrasted strongly with the splendour of his pretensions. He was busy reading, and heard not our approach.
"You see him, perhaps, for the last time," whispered Catanio. "Behold! does there not reign around him a mystic dignity that makes him seem as much a king as if he stood in the halls of Windsor or Holy rood? Ah, who can look on such a man, declining into the vale of life, venerable with years, the majesty and memory of ages, without being moved? But this is a cold and calculating age, without veneration for the past; and the regrets of those who love it, provoke but a smile from the selfish and unreflecting."
Without partaking of his enthusiasm, I was not a little moved by his tone and words.
"Catanio, place a chair for Captain Dundas," said the cardinal, perceiving us. "Sir, you will breakfast with me, as I have intelligence for you. Our most Holy Father has been pleased to dispense with the vows of the Signora D'Alfieri at my intercession; and on presenting this document to the Abbess at Canne, she will be free to quit the convent and resume her place in society. This is the despatch from the spedizioniere of the papal court."
I returned thanks with suitable sincerity of manner.
"Zamori, a Calabrian fisherman of Gierazzo, is now in the harbour of Carine with his little vessel, which, as Catanio informs me, will sail in the evening; on receipt of my order, Zamori will convey you to any part in Calabria, or place you on board the British frigate now cruising in the Adriatic."
"A fisherman's bark will be but a comfortless place on these rough waters, for the delicate signora. But O, most sincerely have I to thank your Eminence for the interest you have taken in this matter, and the kindness you have shown me."
"Captain Dundas, here at least I am a king!" said the old man, whose broad brow became clouded for the first time. "Though exiled, forgotten by Britain, and standing on the verge of the tomb, I will yield my pretensions only with my last breath."
My reply was interrupted by the appearance of six French soldiers, with a sergeant, coming down the avenue at a quick pace, with their bayonets fixed. I remembered my encounter with Pepe, the keen glances of Compere in the church, and all the dangers of my situation flashed upon me: I stood irresolute whether to fight, fly, or surrender.