The latter turned around and saw Pignana, who had glided unseen from the room as soon as he heard the young people leave.
"Why so?" said the Count.
"Why, Monsignore?" replied Pignana, who, casting aside the air and manner of a retired tradesman, became a dry and cold old man with a dignified bearing. "Because our brothers, terrified at your arrest, were on the point of dissolving the vente.—Because, it has been reported that your excellency was on the point of abandoning the cause, and laying aside the functions of supreme chief:—Because, the principal Carbonari, the agent of whom I am, wish to be informed of your intentions, and to be assured by you personally that you will not abandon them."
"Then," said the Count, with a gesture of ill-restrained temper, for these political embarrassments came in conflict with ideas which were far dearer to him, "that is the meaning of what you said just now. How can I restore confidence to our associates? The Neapolitan police watches over me; the least imprudence, the slightest exhibition of the existence of our association, would revive all, and endanger the fate and future success of the society, and also my life. You have few men of energy among you; you, who are one of the most devoted, trembled in the presence of my friends. You deserve to be hissed like a bad actor in a good part! Listen to me, Pignana: I wish to be your chief; I wish to risk a heavy stake in your cause; but now, especially when heavy matters weigh on me, I do not purpose to appear in political comedy. I wish to play a serious part, the theories of which are actions, with many deeds and few words. I will do all that is necessary to serve our cause, but nothing more. Remember this. The Castle Del Uovo, dungeons beneath the sea, the executioner and conversations with the Grand-Judge, warn me to be careful and prudent. Ask me, then, nothing more. In eight days our great general venta will be held at the monastery of San Paola, fifty leagues from Naples. I will be there, and will tell you what our brethren in France and Germany have informed me of. Until then, however, question me about nothing."
"We do not, Monsignore," replied Pignana, who was aware of the firmness of the Count, and saw at once that he had mistaken his course. "The association, which admires your excellency, especially since the trial, which looks on your excellency as a martyr, asks nothing except one favor, which will overwhelm it with gratitude and joy."
"And what is that favor?" rejoined the Count.
"That Monsignore will appear to-night at San Carlo in a box, the key of which I have with me. This box may be seen from every part of the house. All of our principal men will be present, and if Monsignore will advance, during the interlude, to the front of the box, placing his hand on his heart, all our friends will know that they may rely on him."
"By my faith, shrewd as the Duke of Palma is, suspicious as the police may be, I do not think this can be construed into an act of treason. It pledges me to nothing. The ladies to whom we make the gesture understand it. I will then make this exhibition of my person, as the English say, and I will increase the interest of the performance by my presence. In a word, I will appear for the benefit of La Felina. The brave girl and myself will not even then be quits."
"Thank you, Count," said Pignana, as he left—"and now, adieu, until we meet at San Carlo."