“What now? Why nothing particular just now,—unless you have something to tell me. Which, judging from your entangled expression of eye, I presume you have.”
De Launay hesitated a moment. The Professor saw his hesitation.
“Do not speak, my friend, if you think you are committing a breach of confidence,” he said composedly—“In the brief affairs of this life, it is better to keep trouble on your own mind than impart it to others.”
“Oh, there is no breach of confidence;” said De Launay, “The thing is as public as the day, or if it is not public already, it soon will be made so. That is where the mischief comes in,—or so I think. Judge for yourself!” And in a few words he gave the gist of the interview which had taken place between the King and the emissary of the Jesuits that morning.
“Nothing surprises me as a rule,”—said the Professor, when he had heard all—“But if anything could prick the sense of astonishment anew in me, it would be to think that anyone, king or commoner, should take the trouble to speak truth to a Jesuit. Why, the very essence of their carefully composed and diplomatic creed, is to so disguise truth that it shall be no more recognisable. Myself, I believe the Jesuits to be the lineal descendants of those priests who served Bel and the Dragon. The art of conjuring and deception is in their very blood. It is for the Jesuits that I have invented a beautiful new verb,—‘To hypocrise.’ It sounds well. Here is the present tense,—‘I hypocrise, Thou hypocrisest, He hypocrises:—We hypocrise, You hypocrise, They hypocrise.’ Now hear the future. ‘I shall hypocrise, Thou shalt hypocrise, He shall hypocrise; We shall hypocrise, You shall hypocrise, They shall hypocrise.’ There is the whole art of Jesuitry for you, made grammatically perfect!”
De Launay gave a gesture of impatience, and flung away the end of his half-smoked cigar.
“Ach! That is a sign of temper, Roger!” said Von Glauben, shaking his head—“To lift one’s shoulders to the lobes of one’s ears, and waste nearly the half of an exceedingly expensive and choice Havana, shows nervous irritation! You are angry, my friend—and with me!”
“No I am not,” replied De Launay, rising from his chair and beginning to pace the room—“But I do not profess to have your phlegmatic disposition. I feel what I thought you would feel also,—that the King is exposing himself to unnecessary danger. And I know what you do not yet know, but what this letter will no doubt inform you,”—and he drew an envelope bearing the Royal seal from his pocket and handed it to the Professor—“Namely,—that his Majesty is bent on rushing voluntarily into various other perils, unless perhaps, your warning or advice may hinder him. Mine has no effect,—moreover I am bound to serve him as he bids.”
“Equally am I also bound to serve him;”—said Von Glauben, “And gladly and faithfully do I intend to perform my service wherever it may lead me!” Whereupon, shaking himself out of his recumbent position, like a great lion rolling out of his lair, he stood upright, and breaking the seal of the envelope he held, read its contents through in silence. Sir Roger stood opposite to him, watching his face in vain for any sign of astonishment, regret or dismay.
“We must do as he commands,”—he said simply as he finished reading the letter and folded it up for safe keeping—“There is no other way; not for me at least. I shall most assuredly be at the appointed place, at the appointed hour, and in the appointed manner. It will be a change; certainly lively, and possibly beneficial!”