“That depends!” said Jost hesitatingly; “If what the fellow said last night be true—”
“It is not true!” said the Premier authoritatively. “We are going on in precisely the same course as originally arranged. Neither King nor People can interfere! Go home, and write an article about love of country, Jost! You look in the humour for it!”
The Jew’s expression was anything but amiable.
“What is to be done about last night?” he asked sullenly.
“Nothing at present. I am going to the palace at two o’clock—I shall see the King, and find out whether my signet is lost, stolen or strayed. Meanwhile, keep your own counsel! If you have been betrayed into giving your confidence to a spy in the foreign service, as I imagine—(for the King has never employed a spy, and is not likely to do so), and he makes known his information, it can be officially denied. The official denial of a Government, Jost, like charity, has before now covered a multitude of sins!”
An instinctive disinclination for further conversation brought the interview between them abruptly to a close, and Jost, full of a suspicious alarm, which he was ashamed to confess, drove off to his newspaper offices. The Premier, meantime, though harassed by secret anxiety, managed to display his usual frigid equanimity, when, after Jost’s departure, his private secretary arrived at the customary time, to transact under his orders the correspondence and business of the day. This secretary, Eugène Silvano by name, was a quiet self-contained young man, highly ambitious, and keenly interested in the political situation, and, though in the Premier’s service, not altogether of his way of thinking. He called the Marquis’s attention now to a letter that had missed careful reading on the previous day. It was from the Vicar-General of the Society of Jesus, expressing surprise and indignation that the King should have refused the Society’s request for such land as was required to be devoted to religious and educational purposes, and begging that the Premier would exert his influence with the monarch to persuade him to withdraw or mitigate his refusal.
“I can do nothing;” said the Marquis irritably,—“the lands they want belong to the Crown. The King can dispose of them as he thinks best.”
The secretary set the letter aside.
“Shall I reply to that effect?” he enquired.
The Marquis nodded.