Fabiola : or, The church of the catacombs - Digital Repository Services

A DOUBLE
tiou half dead by terror, he vdwod vengeance against h's li!>-
oratrix. Had not tlint common peasant, fiat beggar-woman,
shamefully vanquished him ; him, the pr >ud frr-o-thinker, the
triumphant unbeliever had not she forced him to an act of
weakness, to do homage to the greatness of God a homage, it
is true, his heart belied ?
Still Ernest, before going away, threw her feme gold pieces,
but she kicked them away from her with a disdainful gesture.
" Keep your gold, sir," she replied, " and take care in fu-
ture not to blaspheme so extravagantly, for you see how the
drend of death easily made you change your tone. Father
Nells, have the goodness to accompany the gentleman as far
wouldn't be
as the turning of the road I'm sure ; my society
agreeable to him. " And she turned her back contemptuously
oil Ernest and hurried away.
One can easily believe, from this adventure, that the unlucky
free-thinker was not pleased with his stay at Schrambeck
; so he experienced a real feeling of relief when, on that
very evening, he was on his way to the railway station.
It seemed to him a favorable opportunity for putting his
plan into execution.
'
My clear friend," he began, as soon as the train had passed
the last houses of the village, "circumstances haven't allowed
me, until now, to inform you of the principal motive of my
present visit."
" The principal motive of your visit ?" interrupted M. Mor-
ren, with some astonishment; " had you then any other than
the very natural one of first coming to see me, and then
taking some recreation by a little excursion into the coun-
try?"
"
Assuredly," replied Vau Dormael, " it is my earnest desire
to testify to you my esteem and regard in every possible way
that determined me to come to you. You know, my good
friend, that a large number of the most honorable and intimate
of our common friends form part of the powerful society
of Freemasons. Now, every one knows you've allowed your
son to enter the Pope's service. Allow me to tell you in confl-
in the minds of our
uence that this conduct has damaged you
companions. They accuse you of weakness, lukewarmness,
aiid conclude that you've ceased to be consistent with your
principles."
"But, my dear Ernest, don't they know, on the other
hand, that the profound respect I profess for the sacred rights
of man, for justice and liberty, obliges me to leave my son en-
associating yourself, were it only distantly, with the Pope's
zealots, the Church's defenders."
" They may, however, be thoroughly convinced," Morren
c "
.Imly interposed, that I'm far from approving Victor's
resolution. Only and I frankly admit it I have leit him
completely free to select his flag, his cause, his career."
"
I sincerely believe it," resumed the crafiy tempter. "You
know, my dear friend, it would be impossible for me to doubt
the truth of your words. But our friends don't share my con-
fidence, my security, as regards tuat. Come, I'm going to
speak frankly to you; it's worth while. Several members of the
powerful society of which I spoke to you just now, who are
strongly opposed to you beeause you have always refused to
unite with us, have profited by this circumstance avd Victor's
departure to represent the matter in its blackest colors. They
say you have cowardly forsworn your beliefs, entirely deserted
the Party of Progress, and are disposed to ) eturn to the vain
superstitions, the devout errors that cradled your youth."
"But those are only false calumnies empty words,"
--t>lied M. Morren, whom Ernest's persistency had visibly
ed.
" Believe me, my friend,
that's what I said nt the lodge
what I repeated a hundred times. But all that's no u -e. Their
conviction is immovable ; they believe it's well founded. To
put an end to this misunderstanding, here now is what I pro-
have no doubt
pose to you : your interest and your honor you
require that those shameful calumnies should be publicly and
triumphantly refuted by you. Follow my advice, then I en-
;
gage you, and from this moment enrol you in our glorious
society. Acting thus, yon will allow us to recognize in
you the courageous free-thinker, the adept in progress, whom
we have always so cordially esteemed. You will thus close
the mouths of your calumniators, the enemies of your
good name, and at once regain the confidence of all your old
friends. "
" Ernest," replied the old man quietly, "I'm thankful to
you for your advice inspired I'm sure by your friendship for
me; but at the same time I declare to you I can't follow it.
You are long acquainted with my opinions on this subject.
As a bold free-thinker as you are pleased to call me -my
reason and my heart, which h ve refused to accept the austere
despotism of faith, equally kick against bowing down under
the tyrannical yoke of Freemasonry. True, several of my
friends ure Freemasons, and I see nothing bad in their carry-
ing out their principles, just as I'm not displeased at seeing
my wife strictly practise the observances of her religion. But
I absolutely refuse to acept for myself that yoke and these
bonds. I have not resolutely quitted the ranks of the Church
to impose upon myself this new slavery."
"We are not slaves," stammered the Freemason.
' '
It's useless to interrupt me, my friend. You know per-
fectly well I know your society as well as you know it yourself.
Tell me, is not the solemn oath by which you bind yourself a
real slavery ? And the severe punishment menacing any of
yon who breaks his engagements ? And the secret which you
feel bound to surround with all your rites and ceremonies ?
Tell me, then, why doesn't each of your Freemasons loudly
profess and proclaim his opinions as I profess and proclaim
mine ? '
"No matter," replied the irritated Van Dormael, whose
tone betrayed ill-concealed vexation and secret rancor. "Your
honor requires that you should submit to this obligation. "
" Do you think so ? For my part, I'm very easy about it.
My conduct will suffice to show everybody I haven't changed
anil that I'll remain to the end attached to my principles and
tirely free to select a rule of conduct for himself ?"
"All that would be very well if they believed that you simply
restricted yourself to letting that mad-cap have his way;
but, on the contrary, they think your secret leanings, your inmost
sympathies, adhere to that detested party, that foolish
enterprise. This paternal weakness which you have exhibited,
;das! in the opinion of onr friends is called cowardice, and
from that you may assume that the? can't faithful to myself."
"Still,
pardon your thus
I repeat, they have ceased to believe you to have
confidence in you. Besides, the pretended slavery of which
you speak is very different^ confess it from that of tho
Church. Moreover, they'll take care to leave you full and
"
entire liberty.
" But it is useless to insist on it any longer. Such a proceeding
on my part, I tell you for the last time, is completely
impossible."
' :
At least, don't decide absolutely. Believe me, your own
interest will induce you to follow my advL-e. You love, your
son, don't you ? Well, by your entering into our powerful
society, you can effectively protect him against very grave
dangers."
"
Against the balls
"
afad bullets of the enemies ! interposed
the old man, smiling disdainfully.
" At least against the dagger and poniard of the :
eties arms often employed, ;md moiv t. ruble than tlx.M'. you
speak of," quickly responded Ernest, whose glance at that moment
assumed a strange, dark expression.
At these words, M. Morren bent down his head thoughtfully,
and seemed for some instants plunged in a deep reverie, to
the great joy of the Freemason, who thought this powerful
argument, reserved for the last, had fouud a way to the paternal
heart.
" Do you think, then," the old man at length resumed, in a
grave, thoughtful tone, " that yoxir recommendation in powerlul
enough to protect my son from the dangers with which
your Italian friends threaten him '!"