“The servant of the Invisible Rulers and Fathers,” he humbly answered.
“Who are the Invisible Fathers?”
“The four ambassadors of the great general of the exiles.”
“Call him by that name which he bore before a heretic pope in Rome, a weak empress, a free-thinking emperor in Germany, a lost-in-sin French emperor, and a heretic Spanish minister, condemned him to banishment and destruction.”
“General of the Jesuits,” he answered respectfully, bowing lower.
“Do you know the sign by which he may be recognized?”
“Yes, by a ring with the likeness of the founder of the order, the holy Ignatius Loyola.”
“Then look, and recognize me,” cried the mask, extending his hand to Cagliostro.
“The General,” he murmured, frightened, gazing at the ring upon the small, white hand of the other. “The holy founder of the order himself!” He seized his hand and pressed it to his lips, sinking upon his knees. The mask remained standing before the magician, as lowly as he might bow himself, who was still arrayed in his brilliant costume with the band upon his brow sparkling like diamonds.
With a cold, reserved manner he answered, “I am he, and am come here to give you my commands by word of mouth.”