“Command me; I am thy humble servant, and but a weak tool in thy hands.”
“It is my will that you should become a powerful tool in my hands. Rise, for I will speak to the man who must stand erect in the storm. Rise!” The proud commander was now an humble, obedient servant. He rose slowly, standing with bowed head.
“When and where did we last meet?” demanded the mask.
“In 1773, at Rome.”
“In the year of curse and blasphemy,” said the mask, in a harsh voice. “The year in which the infamous Pope Clement XVI. condemned the holy order, and hurled his famous bull, Dominus redemptor noster. The holy order, condemned and disbanded by his infamous mouth, were changed into holy martyrs, without country, without possessions or rights, as persecuted fugitives, wandering around the world, to the wicked a scorn, to the pious a lamentable example of virtue and constancy. Exiled and persecuted, you fled to a house of one of our order, and there we for the first time met. The daughter of this man was your beloved. Tell me why did you conceal yourself after flying from Palermo? I will see if the elevated one ungratefully forgets the days of his degradation.”
“They accused me in Palermo of falsifying documents by which rightful owners were deprived of their lawful possessions. They threw me into subterranean dungeons, and I was near dying, when the Invisible Protectors rescued me.”
“Was the accusation well founded? Had you committed the crime you were accused of?”
“Yes,” answered Cagliostro, in a low voice, “I was guilty.”
“For whom, by whose authority?”
“For the pious fathers, who commanded me, and whose pretensions to the possessions of the Duc Costa Rica were clearly proved by those documents.”