“Now that we are alone, what do you think of this affair?” asked Woellner.
“I cannot vouchsafe a reply until I have eaten a pheasant’s wing, and drunken my champagne,” replied Bischofswerder.
He kept his word, preserving a solemn silence until a good half of the bird had disappeared, and many glasses of iced champagne.
Then Bischofswerder leaned back in his comfortable armchair with infinite ease, whilst his friend occupied himself with the most pious zeal with the pheasant, rejoicing at this revelation of the Invisibles. Bischofswerder let him enjoy it, and ordered the footman to serve the dessert and withdraw.
“Now I am prepared to reply to you, my dear friend, that we are alone. I believe the king would have sent us to Spandau at once if we had opposed his free-thinking opinions.”
“I am convinced of it,” sighed Woellner, eyeing the remains of the bird with a melancholy glance. “We shall have much to endure for the holy cause which we serve.”
“That is to say, we will have much to suffer if we, in fanatical indiscretion, do not submit to circumstances,” said Bischofswerder.
“You cannot traduce the sublime Fathers!” cried Woellner;—“for the body’s security, we cannot endanger the salvation of our souls, and, like Peter, deny our master.”
“No, my much-loved and noble friend. But we must be wise as serpents, and our duty to the holy order is to preserve its useful tools that they may not be lost. You will agree with me in this?”
“Indeed, I do admit it,” replied Wollner, pathetically.