“Is the autograph of that venerable father of the church, Archbishop Plato. Did his conscience trouble him? ’Tis a somewhat shaky signature.”
“I warrant the conspirators moved heaven and earth to obtain it. Who henceforth would stand aloof from an enterprise hallowed by the Church? He is an Anglophile; let him perish!”
“Next comes Prince Ouvaroff. After him the Czar’s ministers.”
“All of them?” said Arcadius, with an emphasis on the first word.
“You are the sole exception.”
Arcadius smiled bitterly.
“Their act in keeping from me all knowledge of the plot is a clear proof that I am to have no place in the new Ministry. They hate me as the author of the Franco-Russian Alliance. Let them talk as they will of Paul’s madness; their real aim in dethroning him is to conciliate England.”
“Here’s a name that you love—General Benningsen!”
“Bragging ass! Drunken wassailer! A Hanoverian, almost an Englishman! Paul did ill not to follow my counsel. He would recall him from exile. Here’s his gratitude!”
“Next comes a name almost illegible, but I have a strong suspicion it’s meant for James Wylie.”