The Daltons Volume II Part 59

"You're right, D'Esmonde," said the other, pursuing his former line of thought. "It's no petty penalty to exact from a fellow with fifty thousand a year! I almost fancy I should have been a coward myself at such a price!"

"You 'll have some difficulty in obtaining access to him, my Lord,"

remarked the Abbe. "He lives in strict privacy, and refuses admission to every one."

"But a letter will reach him?"

"It may, or it may not; besides, it may come to hand, and yet never be acknowledged."

"What is to be done, then?"

"I 'll think over it, before we separate. I 'll try and suggest something. But here comes Morlache; and now be cautious. Not a word to show that you are ill at ease." The warning was scarcely spoken, when the Jew entered.

Morlache knew D'Esmonde too well to be surprised at seeing him anywhere or at any moment He saluted him, therefore, as though they had met the very day before, and the party sat down to supper, in all the seeming ease of unburdened minds.

They chatted over the politics of Italy, and the change that had come over Florence since the last time they had sat together in that chamber.

"It was a noisy scene, that night," said Morlache; "but the streets are quiet enough now."

"Quiet as a corpse," said Norwood, sternly. "You had no other nostrum for tranquillity but to extinguish life."

"What you regard as death, my Lord," said the Abbe, "is only a trance.

Italy will rise grander and more powerful than ever. One element alone has survived through all the convulsive throes, and all the changing fortunes of this land,--the Papacy. The terrible wars of rival cities and states, the more b.l.o.o.d.y conquests of ambitious houses, leave not a trace behind them; but Rome holds on her proud way, and, like the great river of the poet, 'Labitur et labetur in omne volubilis oevum. '"

"To which I beg, in a less cla.s.sical quotation, to rejoin, 'Confound your politics,'" cried Norwood, laughing. "Come, Morlache, let us turn to a humbler theme. Who have you got here; who are coming for the winter?"

"Say, rather, my Lord, who are going away; for there is a general flight from Florence. All what hotel folk call good families are hastening off to Rome and Naples."

"What's the meaning of this, then?"

"It is not very difficult, perhaps, to explain," said the Jew; "luxuries are only the creations of mere circ.u.mstance. The rarity of one land may be the very satiety of another; and the iced-punch that tastes so exquisite at Calcutta would be but sorry tipple at Coppermine River.

Hence you will see, my Lord, that the English who come here for wickedness find the place too bad for them. There is no zest to their vice; they shock n.o.body, they outrage nothing,--in fact, they are only as bad as their neighbors."

"I suppose it's neither better nor worse than I remember it these dozen years and more?" said Norwood.

"Probably not, my Lord, in fact; but, in outward appearance, it has a.s.suredly degenerated. People behave badly everywhere, but this is the only city in Europe where it is deemed right to do so."

"Since when have you taken up the trade of moralist, Master Morlache?"

said Norwood, with a sneer.

"I 'll answer that question," broke in D'Esmonde. "Since the exchange on England has fallen to forty-three and a half, Morlache sees his clients diminish, and is consequently as angry with vice as he had been with its opposite, if the same result had come to pa.s.s."

"I own," said the Jew, with a sneer, "the present order of things is far more profitable to the confessional than to the _comptoir_."

"That's the truth, I've no doubt of it," broke in Norwood, laughing. "A low tariff has given a great impulse to the trade of wickedness."

"Taking your own ill.u.s.tration, my Lord, we are 'Protectionists,'" said D'Esmonde; "whereas you Protestants are the 'Free-traders' in vice."

"A plague on both your houses, say I," cried Norwood, yawning.

"So, then, Morlache, neither you nor I would find this a desirable residence?"

"I fear it will not repay either of us, my Lord," said the Jew, with a sly look.

"The world is growing wonderfully wide awake," said Norwood. "When I entered life, any fellow with a neat hand at billiards, a fair knowledge of _ecarte_ or short whist, good whiskers, and a well-cut waistcoat, might have eked out a pretty existence without any risk, and very little exertion. But see what the march of intelligence has done! There 's not an Eton boy, not an unfledged 'sub' in a marching regiment, not an unpaid attache at a small court could n't compete with you now in any of these high acquirements. I do not fret myself usually about what is to come after _my_ time; but I really wonder how the next generation will get on at all."

"Civilization moves like the pendulum, my Lord," said D'Esmonde; "the next swing will be retrograde. And, by the way, that reminds me of Russia, and Russia of Prince Midchekoff. Is it true that he is recalled, Morlache?"

"Not that I know. That report is always circulated when there are no dinners at the villa. Just as Marshal Soult is said to have won or lost the battle of Toulouse according to the momentary estimation he is held in."

"You'll hear for certain, my Lord," said D'Esmonde, addressing Norwood; "You are going up there to-night?"

Norwood muttered an a.s.sent, and waited to see how this sally was to end.

"Ah! you are going there to-night," repeated Morlache, in some surprise.

"Are _you_ one of the privileged, then?"

"Of course he is," interposed D'Esmonde, authoritatively.

"Will you do me a very great favor, then, my Lord?" said Morlache, ----"which is to take charge of this small casket. I promised to take it myself; but it is so late now, and I am so wearied, that I shall feel much bound to you for the service."

"You can easily acquit the debt of obligation, Morlache," said D'Esmonde; "for my Lord was just asking me, before you came in, if he could take the liberty of begging the loan of your carriage to take him up to the Moskova. You are aware that it would not be quite proper to take a hired carriage, just now, up to the villa; that, as the Prince affects to be absent----"

"To be sure," broke in Morlache. "I am but too happy to accommodate your Lords.h.i.+p. Your precaution was both delicate and well thought of. Indeed, I greatly doubt that they would admit a fiacre at all."

"I suppose I should have had to walk from the gate," said Norwood, who now saw the gist of the Abbe's stratagem.

"Morlache's old gray is a pa.s.sport that requires no _visa_," said D'Esmonde. "You 'll meet neither let nor hindrance with him in front of you. You may parody the great statesman's peroration, and say, 'Where the King cannot enter, he can.' Such is it to be a banker's horse!"

Norwood heard little or nothing of this remark. Deeply sunk in his own thoughts, he arose abruptly from the table.

"You are not going away, my Lord? You are surely not deserting that flask of Marcobrunner that we have only tasted?"

But Norwood never heard the words, and continued to follow his own train of reflection. Then, bending over D'Esmonde, he said, "In case we should require to cross the frontier at Lavenza, must we have pa.s.sports?"

"Nothing of the kind. There is no police, no inquiry whatever."

"Good-bye, then. If you should not hear _from_, you will hear _of_ me, Abbe. There are a few things which, in the event of accident, I will jot down in writing. You 'll look to them for me. Good-evening, or good-morning,--I scarcely know which." And, with all the habitual indolence of his lounging manner, he departed.

D'Esmonde stood for a few seconds silent, and then said, "Is the n.o.ble Viscount deep in your books?"

"Deeper than I wish him to be," said the Jew.

"Have no fears on that account. He 'll soon acquit all his debts," said the other. "Good-night, Morlache." And with this abrupt leave-taking he withdrew.

CHAPTER x.x.x. A SAD EXIT.

The French Secretary of Legation was just going to bed as his servant handed him a card from Lord Norwood, with a few words scribbled in pencil.