"That," low and mysteriously replied the count, "that can be decided
only by the will of her who has sent me. Until that decision no hair of
her head can be touched, and the princess will follow me to Russia, only
with her own free will! But you must know that the empress hates no one
more than her own son. How, then, if she should be disposed to pass him
over, and select another as her successor?"
"Oh, would to God that I rightly understand you!" exclaimed Cecil.
"We shall, one day, perfectly understand each other," said the count,
with a significant smile. "Now, hasten to redeem your word, and leave
Rome with your master!"
As soon as Cecil left the room, the count's face assumed a knavishly
malicious expression. With a loud laugh he threw himself upon the silken
divan.
"Thus are all these so-called good men real blockheads, stupid fools,
who believe every word spoken to them with a friendly mien! This honest
man really believes that his highly-prized master is now saved, because
he bears in his bosom the fragments of the order for his arrest. Worthy
dunce; as if there were no duplicate, and as if every promise were
countersigned by the Divinity himself! Go home with your count--my word
shall be fulfilled. No hair of his head shall be touched, but his proud
back shall be curled, and in the mines of Siberia he may learn to bow
before a higher power!"
Thus speaking, the count pulled a bell whose silken cord hung over the
divan, and, as no one instantly appeared, he pulled it again, this time
more violently. But yet some minutes passed, and still the bell was
unanswered. The count gnashed his teeth with rage, and muttered vehement
curses.
At length the door opened, and with an imploring face a servant appeared
upon the threshold.
"Miserable hound, where were you?" cried the count to him.
The servant fell upon his knees and crept like a dog to his master's
feet.
"Excellency, we had, as your grace commanded, so long as the gentleman
was with you, withdrawn from the anteroom and waited in the corridor,
where the bell could not be heard," stammered the servant.
"I will teach you wretches to keep me waiting," exclaimed the count, and
seizing the knout that lay upon the table before him, he laid it with
merciless rage upon the poor servant, until his own arm sank powerless,
and he felt himself exhausted with fatigue.
"Now, go, you hound!" said he, replacing the knout upon the table; and
the flagellated serf, rising respectfully, with his hand wiped away the
blood which ran in streams from his wounds.
"Now go and send my officers to me!" cried the count. The servant
staggered out to obey the command, and soon the persons thus ordered
made their appearance and remained standing in silence at the door.