Silvano raised his eyes,—clear dark eyes, deep-set and steady in their glance.
“Were I so, I should not be here;” he replied—“But I know how she speaks; I know what she does! and from a purely political point of view I think it unwise to ignore her.”
“What is this anonymous communication you speak of?” asked the Premier, after a pause.
“Oh, it is brief enough,” answered Silvano unfolding a paper, and he read aloud:
“To the Marquis de Lutera, Premier.
“Satisfy yourself that those who meet on Saturday night where Lotys speaks, have already decided on your downfall!”
“Oracular!” said the Marquis carelessly;—“To decide is one thing—to fulfil the decision is another! Lotys, whoever she may be, can preach to her heart’s content, for all I care! I am rather surprised, Silvano, that a man of your penetration and intelligence should attach any importance to revolutionary meetings, which are always going on more or less in every city under the sun. Why, it was but the other day, the police were sent to disperse a crowd which had gathered round the fanatic, Sergius Thord; only the people had sufficient sense to disperse themselves. A street-preacher or woman ranter is like a cheap-jack or a dispenser of quack medicines;—the mob gathers to such persons out of curiosity, not conviction.”
The secretary made no reply, and went on with other matters awaiting his attention.
At a few minutes before two o’clock the Marquis entered his carriage, and was driven to the palace. There he learned that the King was receiving, more or less unofficially, certain foreign ambassadors and noblemen of repute in the Throne-room. A fine band was playing military music in the great open quadrangle in front of the palace, where pillars of rose-marble, straight as the stems of pine-trees, held up fabulous heraldic griffins, clasping between their paws the country’s shield. Flags were flying,—fountains flashing,—gay costumes gleamed here and there,—and the atmosphere was full of brilliancy and gaiety,—yet the Marquis, on his way to the audience-chamber, was rendered uncomfortably aware of one of those mysterious impressions which are sometimes conveyed to us, we know not how, but which tend to prepare us for surprise and disappointment. Some extra fibre of sensitiveness in his nervous organization was acutely touched, for he actually fancied he saw slighting and indifferent looks on the faces of the various flunkeys and retainers who bowed him along the different passages, or ushered him up the state stairway, when—as a matter of fact,—all was precisely the same as usual, and it was only his own conscience that gave imaginary hints of change. Arrived at the ante-chamber to the Throne-room, he was surprised to find Prince Humphry there, talking animatedly to the King’s physician, Professor Von Glauben. The Prince seemed unusually excited; his face was flushed, and his eyes extraordinarily brilliant, and as he saw the Premier, he came forward, extending his hand, and almost preventing Lutera’s profound bow and deferential salutation.
“Have you business with the King, Marquis?” enquired the young man with a light laugh. “If you have, you must do as I am doing,—wait his Majesty’s pleasure!”