“That’s just like the count!” exclaimed the duchess, in a transport of delight, which she would have thought impossible a moment previously. “He would never allow any one to insult our princess, and as for General P⸺, he was so devoted to his legitimate masters that he would never serve the usurper, whereas the count, whose feelings were less delicate, fought through all the Spanish campaigns, a thing which was often cast in his teeth at court.”
The duchess had opened the count’s letter, but over and over again she stopped reading it to question Bruno.
It was a very comical letter. The count used the most lugubrious language, and yet the most lively joy was evident in every word. He gave no details as to the manner of the prince’s death, and ended his letter with the following words:
“You will come back, of course, my dearest angel. But I would advise your waiting a day or two for the messenger whom the princess will send you, as I hope, either to-day or to-morrow. Your return must be as magnificent as your departure was bold.
“As to the great culprit, who is with you, I fully expect to have him tried by twelve judges, selected from every party in the state. But to punish the wretch as he deserves, I must first of all be in a position to make curl-papers out of the first sentence, if it exists.”
The count had reopened his letter:
“Here’s quite another business. I have just had cartridges served out to the two battalions of the guards. I am going to fight, and do my best to deserve that surname of ‘Cruel’ with which the Liberals have so long honoured me. That old mummy, General P⸺, has dared to talk in barracks of parleying with the populace, which is in a state of semi-revolt. I write this in the middle of the street. I go hence to the palace, which no one shall enter except across my dead body. Farewell! If I die, I die as I have lived, worshipping you in any case. Don’t forget to send for the three hundred thousand francs lodged in your name with D⸺ at Lyons.
“Here comes that poor devil Rassi, wigless and as pale as death; you’ve no idea what a figure he is. The populace is bent on hanging him. That would be too hard on him; he deserves to be drawn and quartered as well! He would have taken refuge in my palace, and has run after me into the street. I hardly know what to do with him.… I do not want to take him to the prince’s palace; that would bring about a revolt in that quarter. F⸺ will see whether I care for him. My first words to Rassi were, ‘I must have the sentence on Monsignore del Dongo, and all the copies you have of it, and you will tell all those shameless judges, who have brought about this revolt, that I will have them all hanged, and you, my friend, into the bargain, if they breathe a single word of this sentence, which has never existed.’ I am sending a company of grenadiers to the archbishop, in Fabrizio’s name. Farewell, dear angel. My house will be burned, and I shall lose those delightful pictures I have of you. I am hurrying off to the palace to get that vile General P⸺ cashiered. He is working for his own hand, flattering the populace as basely as he used to flatter the late prince. All these generals are frightened out of their wits; I think I’ll have myself appointed commander-in-chief.”
The duchess was spiteful enough not to send and rouse Fabrizio. She felt a glow of admiration for the count, which strongly resembled love. “All things considered,” said she to herself, “I really must marry him.” She wrote him instantly to that effect, and sent off one of her servants. That night the duchess had no time to feel unhappy.
The next day, toward noon, she saw a boat with six rowers swiftly cleaving the waters of the lake. Fabrizio and she soon recognised a man wearing the Prince of Parma’s livery. He was, in fact, one of his couriers, who, before he jumped on shore, called out to the duchess: “The revolt is put down.” This courier brought her several letters from the count, a charming missive from the princess, and a parchment decree from Prince Ranuzio-Ernest V which created her Duchess of San Giovanni, and appointed her Mistress of the Robes to the Princess-Mother. The young prince, who was learned in mineralogy, and whom she believed to be a simpleton, had been clever enough to write her a little note, but there was love at the end of it. The note began thus: