The Judgment.
FRITZ WAS quite right; Balsamo’s guests had not entered the Rue Saint Claude with a pacific display nor with a benevolent exterior.
Five horsemen escorted the traveling carriage in which the masters had come; five men with a haughty and somber mien, armed to the teeth, had closed the outer gate and were guarding it while appearing to await their masters’ return.
A coachman and two footmen on the carriage seat concealed under their overcoats each a small hanger and a musket. It had much more the air of a warlike expedition than a peaceful visit, these peoples’ appearance in the Rue Saint Claude.
It was for this reason that the nocturnal invasion of these terrible men, the forcible taking possession of the hotel, had inspired the German with an unspeakable terror. He had at first attempted to refuse entrance to the whole party, when he had seen the escort through the wicket, and had suspected them to be armed; but the all-powerful signals they had used — that irresistible testimony of the right of the new-comers — had left him no option. Scarcely were they masters of the place, than the strangers, like skillful generals, posted themselves at each outlet of the house, taking no pains to dissemble their hostile intentions.
The pretended valets in the courtyard and in the passages, the pretended masters in the salon, seemed to Fritz to bode no good; therefore he had broken the bell.
Balsamo, without displaying any astonishment, without making any preparation, entered the room, which Fritz had lighted up in honor of these, as it was his duty to do toward all guests who visited the house.
His five visitors were seated upon chairs around the room, but not one rose when he appeared.
He, as master of the house, having looked at them, bowed politely; then only did they rise and gravely return his salute.
Balsamo took a chair in front of them, without noticing or seeming to notice the strange order of their position. In fact, the five armchairs formed a semicircle like to those of the ancient tribunals, with a president, supported by two assessors, and with Balsamo’s chair placed in front of that of the president, and occupying the place accorded to the accused in a council or praetorium.
Balsamo did not speak first, as in other circumstances he would have done; he looked around without seeing any object clearly — still affected by a kind of painful drowsiness, which had remained after the shock.
“It seems, brother, that you have understood our errand,” said the president, or rather he who occupied the center seat; “yet you delayed to come, and we were already deliberating if we should send to seek you.”
“I do not understand your errand,” said Balsamo calmly. “I should not have imagined so, from seeing you take the position and attitude of an accused before us.”
“An accused?” stammered Balsamo vacantly, shrugging his shoulders. “I do not understand you!”
“We will soon make you understand us. Not a difficult task, if I may believe your pale cheeks, your vacant eyes, and trembling voice. One would think you did not hear!”
“Oh, yes, I hear,” replied Balsamo, shaking his head, as if to banish the thoughts which oppressed it.
“Do you remember, brother,” continued the president, “that in its last communication the superior committee warned you against a treasonable attempt meditated by one of the great ones of the order?”
“Perhaps so — yes — I do not deny it.”
“You reply as a disordered and troubled conscience might be expected to do; but rouse yourself — be not cast down — reply with that clearness and precision which your terrible position requires. Reply to my questions with the certainty that we are open to conviction, for we have neither prejudice nor hatred in this matter. We are the law; it does not pronounce a verdict until the evidence is heard.” Balsamo made no reply.
“I repeat it, Balsamo, and my warning once given, let it be to you like the warning which combatants give to each other before commencing their struggle. I will attack you with just but powerful weapons; defend yourself!”
The assistants, seeing Balsamo’s indifference and imperturbable demeanor, looked at each other with astonishment, and then again turned their eyes upon the president.
“You have heard me, Balsamo, have you not?” repeated the latter.
Balsamo made a sign of the head in the affirmative.
“Like a well-meaning and loyal brother. I have warned you, and given you a hint of the aim of my questionings. You are warned, guard yourself; I am about to commence again.
“After this announcement,” continued the president, “the association appointed five of its members to watch in Paris the proceedings of the man who was pointed out to us as a traitor. Now, our revelations are not subject to error. We gather them, as you yourself know, either from devoted agents, from the aspect of events, or from infallible symptoms and signs among the mysterious combinations which nature has as yet revealed to us alone. Now one of us had a vision respecting you; we know that he has never been deceived, we were upon our guard, and watched you.”
Balsamo listened without giving the least sign of impatience or even of intelligence. The president continued:
“It was not an easy task to watch a man such as you. You enter everywhere; your mission is to have a footing wherever our enemies have a residence or any power whatever. You have at your disposal all your natural resources — which are immense — and which the association intrusts to you to make its cause triumphant. For a long time we hovered in a sea of doubt when we saw enemies visit you, such as a Richelieu, a Dubarry, a Rohan. Moreover, at the last assembly in the Rue Platriere, you made a long speech full of clever paradoxes, which led us to imagine that you were playing a part in flattering and associating with this incorrigible race, which it is our duty to exterminate from the face of the earth. For a long time we respected the mystery of your behavior, hoping for a happy result; but at last the illusion was dispelled.”
Balsamo never stirred, and his features were fixed and motionless, insomuch that the president became impatient.
“Three days ago,” continued he, “five lettres-de-cachet were issued. They had been demanded from the king by M. de Sartines; they were filled as soon as signed; and the same day were presented to five of our principal agents, our most faithful and devoted brothers, residing in Paris. All five were arrested: two were taken to the Bastille, where they are kept in the most profound secrecy; two are at Vincennes, in the oubliette; one in the most noisome cell in Bicetre. Did you know this circumstance?”
“No,” said Balsamo.
“That is strange, after what we know of your relations with the lofty ones of the kingdom; but there is something stranger still.” Balsamo listened.
“To enable M. de Sartines to arrest these five faithful friends, he must have had the only paper which contains the names of the victims in his possession. This paper was sent, to you by the supreme council in 1709; and to you it was assigned to receive the new members, and immediately invest them with the rank which the supreme council assigned them.”
Balsamo expressed by a gesture that he did not recollect the circumstance.
“I shall assist your memory. The five persons in question were represented by five Arabic characters; and these characters, in the paper you received, corresponded with the names and initials of the new brothers.”
“Be it so,” said Balsamo.
“You acknowledge it?”
“I acknowledge whatever you please.”
The president looked at his assessors, as if to order them to take a note of this confession.
“Well,” continued he, “on this paper — the only one, remember, which could have compromised the brothers — there was a sixth name. Do you remember it?”
Balsamo made no reply.
“The name was — the Count de Fenix.”’
“Agreed,” said Balsamo.
“Then why — if the names of the five brothers figured in five lettres-de-cachet — why was yours respected, caressed, and favorably received at court and in the antechambers of ministers? If our brothers merited prison, you merited it also. What have you to reply?”
“Nothing.”
“Ah! I can guess your objection. You may say that the police had by private means discovered the names of the obscurer brethren, but that it was obliged to respect yours as an ambassador and a powerful man. You may even say that they did not suspect this name.”
“I shall say nothing.”
“Your pride outlives your honor. These names the police could only have discovered by reading the confidential note which the supreme council had sent you; and this is the way it was seen. You kept it in a coffer. Is that true?”
“It is.”
“One day a woman left your house carrying the coffer under her arm. She was seen by our agents, and followed to the hotel of the lieutenant of police, in the Faubourg St. Germain. We might have arrested the evil at its source; for if we had stopped the woman and taken the coffer from her, everything would have been safe and sure. But we obeyed the rules of our constitution, which command us to respect the secret means by which some members serve the cause, even when these means have the appearance of treason or imprudence.”
Balsamo seemed to approve of this assertion, but with a gesture so little marked, that, had it not been for his previous immobility, it would have been unnoticed.
“This woman reached the lieutenant of police,” said the president; “she gave him the coffer, and all was discovered. Is this true?”
“Perfectly true.”
The president rose.
“Who was this woman?” he exclaimed—”beautiful, impassioned, devotedly attached to you body and soul, tenderly loved by you — as spiritual as subtle — as cunning as one of the angels of darkness who assist man to commit evil! Lorenza Feliciani is the woman, Balsamo!”
Balsamo uttered a groan of despair.
“You are convicted,” said the president.
“Have it so.” replied Balsamo.
“I have not yet finished. A quarter of an hour after she had entered the hotel of the lieutenant of police, you arrived. She had sown the treason — you came to reap the reward. The obedient servant had taken upon herself the perpetration of the crime — you came to add the finishing stroke to the infamous work. Lorenza departed alone. You renounced her, doubtless, and would not compromise yourself by accompanying her: you left triumphantly along with Madame Dubarry, summoned there to receive from your own lips the information you sold her. You entered her carriage, as the boatman entered the boat with the sinner, Mary the Egyptian. You left behind the papers which ruined us with M. de Sartines, but you brought away the coffer which might have ruined you with us. Fortunately we saw you — God’s light is with us when we need it most.”
Balsamo bowed without speaking.
“I now conclude,” added the president. “Two criminals have been pointed out to the order; a woman, your accomplice, who may be innocent perhaps, but who, in point of fact, has injured our cause by revealing one of our secrets; and you, the master, the Great Copt, the enlightened mind, who have had the cowardice to shelter yourself behind this woman, that your treason may be less clearly seen.”
Balsamo raised his head, and fixed a look upon the commissioners, burning with all the rage which had smoldered in his breast since the commencement of the interrogation.
“Why do you accuse this woman?” asked he.
“Ah! we know that you will endeavor to defend her; we know that you love her almost to idolatry — that you prefer her to everything in the world. We know that she is your treasure of science, of happiness, and of fortune; we know that she is more precious to you than all the world beside.”
“You know all this?” said Balsamo.
“Yes, we know it: and we shall punish you through her more than through yourself.”
“Finish!” The president rose.
“This is the sentence:
“Joseph Balsamo is a traitor — he has broken his oath; but his knowledge is immense, and he is useful to the order. Balsamo must live for the cause he has betrayed. He belongs to his brothers, though he has cast them off.”
“Ha!” said Balsamo gloomily, almost savagely.
“A perpetual prison will protect the association against any renewal of his treachery, at the same time that it will permit the brothers to gather the knowledge from him which it has a right to expect from all its members.
“As to Lorenza Feliciani, a terrible punishment —
“Hold!” said Balsamo, with perfect calmness in his voice, “you forget that I did not defend myself — the accused must be heard in his own justification. A word, a single proof will suffice; wait one moment, and I will bring you the proof I have promised.”
The commissaries seemed to deliberate for a moment.
“Ah! you fear lest I should kill myself,” said Balsamo, with a bitter smile. “If that had been my wish, it would have been already done. There is that in this ring which would kill you all five times over had I opened it. You fear I should escape; let me be guarded if you wish it.”
“Go!” said the president.
Balsamo disappeared for about a moment. Then he was heard heavily descending the staircase. He entered, bearing the cold, rigid, and discolored body of Lorenza upon his shoulder, her white hand hanging to the ground.
“Here is the woman I adored, who was my treasure, my only happiness, my life! — the woman who, as you say, has betrayed you — here, take her! God did not wait for you to punish, gentlemen!”
And with a movement quick as lightning, he let the corpse glide from his arms, and sent it rolling on the carpet to the feet of the judges, whom her cold hair and the dead and motionless hands touched, to their great horror, while by the light of the lamps they saw the wide gash gaping in her neck, white as a swan’s.
“Now pronounce the sentence,” added Balsamo.
The horrified judges uttered a cry, and seized with maddening terror, fled in indescribable confusion. Soon their horses were heard neighing and trampling in the courtyard; the outer gate grated on its hinges; and then silence, the solemn silence of the tomb, returned to seat itself beside despair and death.