The Hotel of II. De Sartines.
THE MOMENT Lorenza entered the courtyard, she found herself surrounded by a crowd of soldiers and officers. She addressed the garde-francaise who stood nearest to her, and begged him to conduct her to the lieutenant of police. The guardsman handed her over to the porter, who, seeing a beautiful stranger, richly dressed, and holding a magnificent coffer under her arm, thought that the visit might prove not to be an unimportant one, and preceded her up the grand staircase to an antechamber, where every comer could, after the sagacious scrutiny of the porter, be admitted to present an explanation, an accusation, or a request, to M. de Sartines, at any hour of the day or night.
It is needless to say that the two first classes of visitors were more favorably received than the latter.
Lorenza, when questioned by the usher, only replied:
“Are you M. de Sartines?”
The usher was profoundly astonished that any one could mistake his black dress and steel chain for the embroidered coat and fl owing wig of the lieutenant of police; but as no lieutenant is ever angry at being called captain, as he marked the foreign accent of the lady, and as her firm and steady gaze was not that of a lunatic, he felt convinced that the fair visitor had something important in the coffer which she held so carefully and so securely under her arm.
But as M. de Sartines was a prudent and suspicious man, as traps had been laid for him with baits not less enticing than that of the beautiful Italian, there was good watch kept around him, and Lorenza had to undergo the investigation, the questioning, and the suspicions, of half a dozen secretaries and valets. The result of all these questions and replies was, that M. de Sartines had not yet returned, and that Lorenza must wait.
Then the young woman sunk into a moody silence, and her eyes wandered over the bare walls of the vast antechamber.
At last the ringing of a bell was heard; a carriage rolled into the courtyard, and a second usher entered and announced to Lorenza that M. de Sartines was waiting for her.
Lorenza rose, and crossed two halls full of people with suspicious-looking faces, and dresses still more strange than her own. At last she was introduced into a large cabinet of an octagon form, lighted by a number of wax candles.
A man of from fifty to fifty-five years of age, enveloped in a dressing-gown, his head surmounted by a wig profusely powdered and curled, was seated at work before a lofty piece of furniture, the upper part of which, somewhat resembling in form a cupboard, was closed with two doors of looking-glass, in which the person seated could, without moving, see any one who entered the room, and could examine their features before they had time to compose them in harmony with his own.
The lower part of this article of furniture formed a secretaire. A number of rosewood drawers composed the front, each of which closed by the combination of some letters of the alphabet. M. de Sartines kept in them his papers, and the ciphers which no one in his lifetime could read, since the drawers opened for him alone, and which none could have deciphered after his death, unless in some drawer, still more secret than the others, he had found the key to the cipher.
This secretaire, or rather this cupboard, contained, behind the glasses of the upper part, twelve drawers, also closed by an invisible mechanism. This piece of furniture, constructed expressly by the regent to contain his chemical or political secrets, had been given by that prince to Dubois, and left by Dubois to M. Dombreval, lieutenant of police. It was from the latter that M. de Sartines had inherited the press and the secret. However, M. de Sartines had not consented to use it until after the death of the donor, and even then he had had all the arrangements of the locks altered.
This piece of furniture had some reputation in the world, and shut too closely, people said, for M. de Sartines only to keep his wigs in it.
The grumblers, and their name was legion at this period, said that if it were possible to read through the panels of this secretaire, there would most certainly have been discovered, in one of its drawers, the famous treaty by virtue of which Louis XV. speculated in grain, through the intervention of his devoted agent, M. de Sartines.
The lieutenant of police therefore saw, reflected in the glass, the pale, serious face of Lorenza, as she advanced toward him with the coffer still beneath her arm. In the center of the apartment the young girl stopped. Her costume, her figure, and the strangeness of her proceedings, struck the lieutenant.
“Who are you?” asked he, without turning round, but looking at her in the glass. “What do you want with me?”
“Am I in the presence of M. de Sartines, lieutenant of police?” replied Lorenza.
“Yes,” replied he, abruptly.
“Who will assure me of that?”
M. de Sartines turned round.
“Will it be a proof that I am the man you seek,” said he, “if I send you to prison?”
Lorenza made no reply. She merely looked round the room with that indescribable dignity peculiar to the women of Italy, and seemed to seek the chair which M. de Sartines did not offer her.
He was vanquished by this look, for Monsieur the Count d’Alby de Sartines was a remarkably well-bred man.
“Be seated,” said he, sharply.
Lorenza drew a chair forward and sat down.
“Speak quickly,” said the magistrate. “Come! let me know what you want.”
“Sir,” said Lorenza, “I come to place myself under your protection.”
M. de Sartines looked at her with the sarcastic look peculiar to him.
“Ah! ah!” said he.
“Sir,” continued Lorenza, “I have been carried off from my family, and have, by a false marriage, fallen into the power of a man who for the last three years has oppressed me and made my life miserable.”
M. de Sartines looked with admiration upon this noble countenance, and felt touched and charmed by this voice, so soft that it seemed more like a strain of music.
“From what country do you come?” he asked.
“I am a Roman.”
“What is your name?”—”Lorenza.”
“Lorenza what?”
“Lorenza Feliciani.”
“I do not know that family. Are you a demoiselle?”
Demoiselle at this period meant a lady of quality. In our days a lady thinks herself noble enough when she is married, and only wishes thenceforth to be called madame.
“I am a demoiselle,” replied Lorenza.
“Well? What do you demand?”
“I demand justice against this man who has stolen and incarcerated me.”
“That is no affair of mine,” said the lieutenant of police; “are you his wife?”
“He says so, at least.”
“How! — says!”
“Yes, but I do not remember anything of it, as the marriage was contracted while I slept.”
“Peste! you sleep soundly.”
“What do you say?”
“I say that it is not in my province. Apply to a procureur and commence an action; I do not like to meddle in family matters.”
Upon which M. de Sartines waved his hand with a gesture which meant, “Be-gone!” Lorenza did not move.
“Well?” asked M. de Sartines, astonished.
“I have not done yet.” said she; “and if I come to you, you must understand that it is not to complain of a trifling matter, but to revenge myself. I have told you that the women of my country revenge themselves, but never complain.”
“That is another affair,” said M. de Sartines; “but speak quickly, fair lady, for my time is precious.”
“I told you that I came to you to ask for your protection; shall I have it?”
“Protection against whom?”
“Against the man upon whom I wish to revenge myself.”
“Is he powerful?”
“More powerful than a king.”
“Come, explain, my dear madame. Why should I protect you against a man who is, in your opinion, more powerful than a king, an act which is perhaps a crime? If you wish to be revenged on this man, revenge yourself. That is nothing to me; only, if you commit a crime, I shall have to arrest you, after which we shall see — that is the routine.”
“No, sir,” said Lorenza, “no, you will not have me arrested, for my vengeance is of the greatest utility to you, to the king, and to France. I shall revenge myself by revealing this man’s secrets.”
“Oh, ho! he has secrets?” said M. de Sartines, beginning to feel interested in spite of himself.
“Mighty secrets, sir.”
“Of what kind?”
“Political ones.”
“Mention them.”
“But in that case, will you protect me?”
“What sort of protection do you require?” said the magistrate, with a cold smile; “gold, or affection?”
“I only ask permission, sir, to retire to a convent and to live there concealed and unknown. I ask that this convent may become my tomb, but that this tomb may never be violated by any one in the world.”
“Ah!” said the magistrate, “that is not a very exacting demand. You shall have the convent — speak.”
“Then I have your word, sir?”
“I think I said so.”
“Then,” said Lorenza, “take this coffer; it contains mysteries which will make you tremble for the safety of the king and his dominions.”
“Then you know these mysteries?”
“Only partially — but I know they exist.”—”And that they are important?”
“That they are terrible.”
“Political secrets, you say?”
“Have you never heard that there existed a secret society?”
“Ah! the freemasons?”
“The invisibles.”
“Yes, but I do not believe it.”
“When you have opened this coffer you will believe.”
“Ah!” said M. de Sartines, eagerly, “let me see.”
And he took the coffer from Lorenza’s hands. But suddenly, after a moment’s reflection, he placed it upon the desk.
“No,” said he, with an air of suspicion; “open the coffer yourself.”
“But I have not the key.”
“How! — you have not the key? You bring me a coffer which contains the safety of a kingdom, and you forget the key?”
“Is it so very difficult, then, to open a lock?”
“No, not when one knows it.” Then, after a moment’s pause, he added; “We have in this place keys for all kinds of locks; you shall have a bunch” (and he looked fixedly at Lorenza), “and you shall open it yourself.”
“Give it me,” said Lorenza, without the slightest hesitation.
M. de Sartines held out a bunch of little keys of all kinds to the young girl. She took them; M. de Sartines touched her hand — it was cold as marble.
“But why,” said he, “did you not bring the key of the coffer?”
“Because the master of the coffer never lets it out of his possession.”
“And who is the master of the coffer — this man who is more powerful than a king?”
“What he is, no one can say. The Almighty alone knows how long he has lived; the deeds he accomplishes none see but God.”
“But his name — his name?”
“I have known him change it ten times.”
“Well, that by which you generally address him?”
“Acharat.”
“And he lives —
“Rue Saint —
Suddenly Lorenza started, shuddered, and let the coffer, which she held in the one hand, and the keys which she held in the other, fall to the ground. She made an effort to reply, her lips were distorted convulsively; she raised her hands to her throat, as if the words she was about to utter had suffocated her; then, tossing her trembling arms aloft, she fell her whole length upon the carpet of the study, unable to utter a single word.
“Poor girl!” murmured M. de Sartines, “what the deuce is the matter with her? She is really very pretty. Ah! there is some jealousy at work in this project of revenge.”
He rang the bell hastily, and in the meantime raised the young girl in his arms, who, with staring eyes and motionless lips, seemed already dead, and disconnected with this lower world. Two valets entered.
“Carry this young lady carefully into the adjoining apartment,” said he; “endeavor to revive her, but above all use no violence. Go.”
The valets obeyed, and carried Lorenza out.