Louis took it, and read a form of words in the Spanish language, which claimed his allegiance to Spain; by the privileges and pledges of his long line of ancestors born in that realm, by the reunion of his father to that realm; and by the restitution which the King and council had made to him of the Ripperda territories in Andalusia and Granada, forfeited to the crown in the year 1673, by the rebellious conduct of Don Juan de Montemar Duke de Ripperda. In just return for this grace from the land of his ancestors, William, the present Baron de Ripperda, had taken an oath of fealty to Philip and to Spain. And Louis de Montemar, his only son, and heir to all his possessions, honours, and civic duties, was called upon, by the same solemn rite to devote himself to Spain, as his country; and to Philip as his liege-lord. At the end of this official document, a postscript was written in the Baron's own hand, demanding of his son, to add to the signature required, on oath to perform all that might be appointed him by his father directly, or indirectly through the Sieur Ignatius, for the service of the King; and to hold all secrets confided to him for that purpose, inviolable as his Christian faith.
Louis saw nothing in bonds which his father's hand-writing had sanctified, to suggest further hesitation; and, without reluctance, he set his name to the paper, and pressed to his lips the sacred volume presented by the Sieur.
"Now Louis," said he, "your task is easy. Will, is a conquering sword!"—as he spoke, a smile played for a moment on his stern lip; but like a sun-beam on a dark cloud, it suddenly disappeared, and all was gloom again. He opened the escritoire, and took from the shelves two thick scrolls in strange characters. Louis continued to gaze on the face of this mysterious man, as he arranged the sheets on the table. The smile, which had just lit up those lurid features with the nameless splendors of mental beauty, was passed away; but the impression remained on his pupil's heart. Louis congratulated himself on the assurance that it gave him, and said inwardly, "I shall never forget that magic smile, so eloquent of every ineffable grace of mind and spirit! It is a pledge to me, that I may love, as well as reverence its possessor."
Ignatius placed the papers before his attentive pupil, telling him, they comprised his duty for the day; that he must copy them stroke by stroke, for the inaccuracy of a single curve, might produce consequences to burthen his soul for ever. The Sieur then sat down to give minute instruction respecting the execution of these momentous documents. The task was complicated, and of a nature totally different from any thing Louis had ever practised, or could possibly have anticipated. However, he cheerfully engaged in its performance; and his employer, having seen the precision of his commencement, rose to withdraw. Before he quitted the room, he turned and said, that he supposed it was hardly necessary to enjoin the propriety of always keeping that chamber locked, both when it was occupied and when it was vacant. On Louis's bowing to the implied command, he added, that Gerard would strike on the door, when dinner was served in the saloon; and that at midnight, he would himself return to the chateau, to inspect the papers, and affix his seal to their contents.
Louis continued from noon, till the gloom of twilight, at his laborious penmanship. He knew nothing of the particular purport of any one of the numerous sheets he was transcribing. The characters were unknown to him; but he was assured by Ignatius, all were directed to the service of Spain; and with alacrity and exactness he had completed half his task before the duskiness of the hour, and the promised stroke of Gerard, gave him a short respite.
Solitude was again at his temperate meal. He had heard enough from the Sieur, to warn him against the imprudence of putting unnecessary questions; and determined to allow all unimportant circumstances, at least, to pass by him unnoticed by oral remark; he said nothing to his taciturn attendant about the continued absence of Castanos. His dinner was dispatched in a few minutes, and taking the candles in his hands, he returned to the locked chamber to finish his work. At the appointed hour, Ignatius reappeared.
The several heaps of papers were arranged for his inspection, and, with a nod of approbation he examined them one by one. He approved what was done, and turning to the escritoire, sealed them, and affixed to each packet its appropriate address. What were the names on these superscriptions, Louis had no guess, though he did not doubt they were all to be consigned to the Baron de Ripperda; and, (as he observed by the proceedings of the Sieur, they were ready to be put into their last envelope,) he ventured to ask whether he might not add one packet more to his father. Ignatius remained silent. Though Louis saw no encouragement on his contracting brow, he would not be so repulsed, but steadily repeated his request, adding, that he was particularly anxious to dispatch this letter, as it was not only to assure his father of his devotedness to his commands, but to beg him to forward one on most urgent business, which he had inclosed for Don Ferdinand d'Osorio.
"Your father will have sufficient assurance of your obedience, in the execution of these papers," returned the Sieur, "and as to promoting a correspondence with Don Ferdinand d'Osorio;—in your situation, that is out of the question. Your residence here is unknown to any one, and must continue so, till the affair that commands your service, is made or marred. Burn your packet, therefore; it cannot go."
During this speech, he opened the leathern-bag that was to be the travelling case of the dispatches.
Louis sighed convulsively as he put his letter back into his bosom. Ignatius took no notice of this heart-struck sign of disappointment, but calmly continued packing the papers. Louis thought of the unhappy Alice; of the tears she shed on his neck at parting; of his vow to restore to her, her peace of mind; and he could not endure his own cowardice in having been over-awed to the appearance of giving up her cause, even for a moment. He resumed in a firmer voice.