Newspaper Page Text
FOURTH PAGE
THE SUJVXY SOUTH
JULY 22, 1903.
s'he Long Night ^ *. By Stanley JWeyman &
Author: “Under the Red Robe,'
*A Centtdman.of France,
The Home of the Wolf.’
CHAPTER V.
The Elixir Vitae.
S the Syndic crossed the
threshold of the scholar’s
(room, lie uncovered with
an air of condescension
that, do what he would,
was not free from uneasi
ness. He had persuaded
himself, he had been aTl
the morning persuading
himself, that any man
might pay a visit to a
learned scholar—why not?
Moreover, i.hat a magis
trate in flxayang such a
vlsttt, was hut In the performance of his
duty, aTid might plume himself accord
ingly on the act
Yet two things like worms in «'* buci
■would gnaw at his peace. The first was
conscience; if the Syndic did not know
he had reason to suspect that Basterga
tore the Grand Duke’s commission, and
was in Geneva to further his master s
ends. The second source of liis uneasi
ness lie did not acknowledge even to hlm-
•e.lf, and yet It was the more powerful;
it was a suspicion—a strong suspicion,
though he had met Basterga l>ut twice—
that in parleying with the scholar he was
dealing with a man for whom he was no
match, puff himself out as he might; and
who secretJy despised him.
Perhaps, the fact that the latter feeling
censed ’to vex him before lie had been a
minute in the room, was the best testi
mony ito Basterga’s tact and manage
ment. that could he desired. Not that
the scholar was either effusive or ab
ject. It was rather by a frank address
which took equality for grant's!, and by
an easy assumption that the visit had
no importance, that he calmed Messer
Blond el’s nerves and soothed his pride.
“If I do not the honor of my poor
apartment so pressingly as some,” he
said presently. ’*i■ is out of no lack of
respect, Messer Syndic. But because,
having had much experience of visitors.
I know that nothing tits them so well as
to be left at liberty, nothing irks them
so much as to be over-pressed. Here,
now, I have some things that are thought
curious, even in Padua, but I do not know
whether they will Interest you.”
‘ ’ Manus c ri p ts ? ”
“Yes, manuscripts and the like. This,’’
Basterga lifted one from the table and
placed it in his visitor’s hands, “is a fac.
simiio, prepared with the utniost care, of
the ’Codex Vatic-anus,’ the most ancient
manuscript of the New Testament, Of
interest in Geneva, where by the hands
of your great printer, Stephens, M. de
Bezjt has done so much to advance the
knowledge oif the sacred text. But you
are looking at that chart 7"
“Ye3. What Is it, If it please you?”
“it is a plan of the ancient city of
Aurelia,’’ Basterga replied, “which Cae
sar, in the first book of His Commenta
ries places in Switzerland, but which,
some day, should be rather in Savoy.”
“Indeed, Aurelia!" the Syndic muttered,
turning It about. It was a plan beauti
fully and elaborately finished, but, like
most of the planp of that day, it was
without names. “Aurelia?"
“Yes, Aurelia,”
"But 1 seem to—is this water?”
“Yes. a lake,” Basterga replied, stoop
ing with a faint smile to the plan.
“And this a river?”
"Yes."
“Aurelia? But—I seem to know the line
of this wall, and these bastions. Why,
it is—Messer BJasterga," in a tone of sur
prise, not unmingled with anger—“you
play with me! it ip Geneva!”
Rasterga permitted his smile to become
more apparent. “Oh, no, Aurelia,” he
said lightly nrul aim <st jocosely. “Au
relia- in Savoy, X assure you. Whatever
it is, however, we have no need to take
it to heart, Messer Blonde). Believe me,
it comes front, and is not on it s way to,
the Grand Duke’s library at Turin.”
The. Syndic showed his displeasure by
putting the map from him.
"Your taste is rather for other things,”
Basfcerga continued, affecting to misun-
dersUtnd the act. “Tills illuminated man
uscript, now. may interest you? It is in
characters which are probably strange to
you?’’
“Is It Hebrew?” the Syndic muttered
stiffly, his temper still assenting Itself.
“No, It is in the ancient Arabic ohar-
adter; that into which the works of Aris
totle were translated as far back its the
(ninth century of our era. It is a curi
ous treatise by the Arabic sage, llin
Jashe.r, who was (the teacher of Ibn Zohr,
who was the teacher of A vermes. It
•wag carried from Spain to Home about
the year 1000 by tihe learned Pope Syl
vester the Second, who spoke Arabic and
of whose library it formed part.”
‘"Indeed!” Blondel responded, staring a
it, “R must be of groat value. How
came it into your possession, Messer Ras
ter ga?”
Basterga opened his mouth and shut it
again, "I do not Clink 1 can tell you
that,” he said drily.
“It contains, a suppose, some curious
things?"
“Curious?” Basterga replied impulsive
ly, “I should say so! Why, it wag in
that I found—’’ And there in apparent
confusion he broke off. Ho laughed
awkwardly, and then—“Well, you know,”
he resumed, “we students find many
things iiiii-rest us which would fail to
touch (the man of affairs.” And, as if
he wished to change the subject, he
took the manuscript from the Syndic’s
hand and threw It carelessly on the
table.
Messer Blondel thought The careless
ness overdone, and, his interest 'aroused,
he followed the manuscript, he scarcely
knew why, -with his eyes. "1 think 1
have heard the name of Aver roes?” he
Bald. “Was he not a physician?"
“He was many things," Basterga an
swered negligently. “As a- physician he
■was, 1 believe, rather visionary than prae.
tical. I have his Colliget, his most fa
mous work in that line, but for my part
in the cose of an ordinary disease, I
would rather trust myself," with a shrug
of contempt, “to the Grand Duke's physi
cian.”
“But in -the case—of an extraordinary
disease?" .the Syndic asked shrewdly.
Basterga frowned. "1 meant in any
disease,” he said. “Did I Say extraor
dinary ?”
"Yes,” Messer Blondel answered stout
ly. The frown had not escaped him.
"But 1 take it, you are something of a
physician yourself?”
”1 have studied in the school of Fal
lopius, the clilrurgcon of Padua,” the
scholar answered coldly. "But 1 am a
scholar, Messer Blondel, not a physician,
much less a practitioner of the ancillary
art, which I lake to he but a base
and .mechanical handicraft.”
"Yet, chemistry—you pursue that?"
the other rejoined witli a glance at the
farther table and its load of strunge-
looklng phials and retorts.
“As an amusement,” Basterga replied
with a gesture of liaug-hty deprecation.
“A parergon, if you please. 1 take it,
a man may dip into the mystical writ
ings of Paracelsus without prejudice to
Ills Hatinity; and into the cabalistic lore
of the school of Cordova without los
ing his taste for the pure oratory of the
immortal Cicero. Vlrgii himself. If we
may believe ilellnamius, gave the weight
of Ills great name to such sports. And
Cornelius Agrippa, my learned fore-run
ner in Geneva—”
“Went something farther than that!”
the Syndic struck it with a meaning
nod, twice repeated. “It was whisper
ed and more than whispered—I had it
from my father—that he raised the devil
here, Messer Blondel; the very same
that at l»uvain strangled one of Agr.p-
pa’s scholars who broke in on him be
fore he could sink through the floor.”
Basterga's face took on ah expression
of supreme scorn. “Idle tales!” he
said. “Fit only for women! Surely
you do not believe them, Messer Blon-
del?”
• •I?”
“Yes, you, Messer Syndic.”
‘IBut this, at any rate, you’ll not
deny,” Blondel retorted eagerly. "That
ho discovereu the Philosopher's Stone?”
“And lived poor, and died no richer?”
Basterga rejoined in a tone of increas
ing scorn.
‘.‘Well, for the matter of that,” t’ne
Syndic answered, more slowly, “that
may be explained.”
“How?”
"They say, and you must have heard
it, that the gold he made that way
turned In three days to egg shells and
parings of horn.”
"Yet having it three days,” Basterga
asked with a sneer, “might he not buy
all be wanted?”
"Well, I can only say that my father.
Who saw him more than once in the
street, always told me—and I do not know
anyone who should have known bettor—”
“Pshaw, MesBer Blondel, you amaze
me!” the scholar struck In, rising from
hls seat and adopting a tone at once
contemptuous and dictatorial. "Do you
not know," he continued, “that the
Ptnllsoplier's Stone was and is but a
figure of speech, which stands as some
say for the perfect element in nature,
or as others say for the vital principle—
that vivifying power which evades and
ever must evade the search of men? Do
you not know that the sages whose
speculations took that direction were
endangered by accusations of wither a ft ;
and to evade these and to give their
researches such an aspect as would
command the confidence of the vulgar,
gave out that they were seeking e.'ther
the Philosopher's Stone, which would
make ;U1 men rich, or the Elixir Vitae
Which would oonfor immortality. Believe
me, they -were themselves no slaves to
these expressions; nor were the initiated
among their followers. But as time
went on. tyros. Tempted by sounds, and
caught by theories of transmutation, be
gan to interpret them literally, and,
straying aside, spent tlielr lives in the
vain pursuit of wealth or youth.”
Messer Biondel stared. Had Basterga,
assailing him from a different side,
broached the precise story, to which, in
the case of Agrippa or Albertus Mag-
nue, the Syndic was- prepared to give
credence, he had received the overture
With suspicion If not pith contempt. He
had certainly been very far from staking
good florins upon it. But when the ex
perimenter in the midst of the appara
tus of science, a/nd surroundeiT'by things,
which imposed on the vulgar, denied
their value, and laughed at the legends
of wealth and strength obtained by
their means—this fact alone went very
far toward, convincing him that Baster
ga had made a discovery and was keep
ing it back.
The vital principle, the essential ele
ment, the final good, these were fine
phrases, though they had a pagaf ring.
But men, t’ne Syndic argued, did not
spend money, and read much and fve
laborious days, merely to coin phrases.
Men did not surround themselves with
costly apparatus only to prove a theory
that had no practical value, “He h.is
discovered something.” Blondel conclud
ed ih his mind, ""If it be not the Philo
sopher’s Stone or the Elixir of Dife. I
am sure Tie has discovered something.”
And with eyes grown sharp and greedy,
the magistrate raked the roorn^
The scholar stood thoughtful where
he had paused, and did not seem to
notice him.
“Then do you mean,” Blondel resumed
after a while, "that all your work there”
—he Indicated by a nod the chemical
half of the room—"has been thrown
away?”
••Well—”
"Not quite, I think?” the Syndic sa.'d,
his small eyes twinkling. "Eh, Messer
B-asterga, not quite? Now Be candid.”
"Well, I would not say,” Basterga an
swered coldly, and as It seemed unwil
lingly, "that I have not derived some-
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thing from the researches with which I
have amused my leisure. But nothing
of value to the general.”
"Yet something of value to yourself,”
Blondel said, his head on one side.
Basterga frowned, then shrugged hls
shoulders. “Well, yes,” he said at
length. “As it 'happens, I have. But
a thing of no use to anyone else, for
the simple -reason that—"
“You have only enough for yourself!”
The scholar looked astonished and a
little offended.
"I do not know how you learned that,”,
he. said curtly, ‘*nut you are right. I
had no intention of telling you as much.
Bui, as you have guessed rightly so far,
I do not mind adding that it is a rem
edy for a disease which the. most learn
ed physicians do not pretend to cure."
"A remedy?"
“Yes, vital and certain."
"And you discovered ItT”
“No, I did not discover it,” Basterga
replied modestly. “But the story is so
long that I will ask you to excuse me.
I ' will tell it another time.”
“I shall not excuse you, if you do not
favor me with it now,” the Syndic an
swered eagerly. As he leaned forward,
there was a light In hls eyes that had
not been In them a few minutes before.
His hand, too, shook as he moved it
from the arm of Tits C-halr to hls knee.
“Nay, but, I pray you indulge me,” he
continued. In a tone anxious and almost
submissive. “I shall not betray your
secrets. I am no philosopher, and no
physician, ;*nd, had I the will, 1 could
make no use of your confidence.”
“That is true," Basterga replied. “And
after all, the matter is simple. I do
not know why I should refuse to
oblige you. I have said that I did not
discover this remedy. That is so. But
happened that in trying, by way ot
amusement, certain precipitations, l ob
tained not that which I sought—nor had
X expected," he continued, smiling, “to
obtain that, for it was the Elixir of L-lfe
which, as I have told you, does not ex
ist—but a substance new in my experi
ence. and Which seemed to me to pos
sess some peculiar properties. 1 tested
it in all the ways known to me, but
without "benefit or enlightenment; and in
the end, was about to cast it aside, when
1 chanced on a passage in the manu
script of Ibn Jasher—the same, in fact,
that 1 showed you a few minutes ago.”
"And you found?” The Synise’s atti
tude as he leaned forward, with partel
lips and a hand on each knee betrayed
an interest so abnormal it was odd thac
Basterga did not notice it.
Instead. “1 found that he had made,”
the scholar replied quietly, "as far back
as the tenth century the same experi
ment which I had just completed. And
with the same result.”
"He obtained the substance?”
Basterga nodded.
would to Heaven," Tte continued, with
the first spirit of feeling wjiich he had
allowed to escape him, "that I had held
my hand after the first proof. Instead.
I must needs try it again and again,
and again—
"For nothing?”
Basterga shrugged his shoulders. ->o.”
he said, “not Tbr nothing." And by a
gesture he indicated the objects about
him. “I am not a poor man now, Mes-
str Blondel. Not for nothing, hut too
cheaply. And so often that I have now
left but one portion of that substance
which all the science of Padua cannot
renew. One portion, only, alas!” he re
peated with regret.
“Enough to cure one person?” the
Syndic excThtmed.
•'Yes.”
“And the disease?” Blondel rose as
he spoke. “The disease?” he repeated.
He extended his trembling arms to tne
other. No longer, even If he wished it,
could Basterga feign himself blind to the
agitation, which shook, whten almost
convulsed the Syndic’smeager frame.
"The disease? Ts It not that which men
call the Scholar’s? Is if not that? But
I know it Is.”
Basterga with something of astonish
ment In hls face inclined his head.
“And T have that disease! I!” the
Syndic cried, standing before him a pite
ous figure ;and be raised hls hands
above hls head in a. gesture, which cnal-
ienged the compassion of Ttfifls and men.
"T! In two years—” his voice failed,
and he could not go on.
"Believe me, Messer Blondel,” Bas-
terga answered after a long and sorrow
ful pause. "T am grieved. Deeply
grieved.” he continued In a tone of feel
lr.g, “to hear this. Do the physicians
give no hope?”
"Sons of the Horse-Beech!” the Syn
die cried, a new pa-sslon shaking him
It hls turn. "They give me two years!
Two years! And It may be be less.
Bess!” he cried, raising hls voice. “1.
v ho go to and fro here and there. like
other men with no mark upon me. I.
who walk the streets in sunshine and
rain like other men. Yet, for them the
sky is bright, and they have years to
live. For me. one more summer, and—
n'ght! Two more years at the most— -
and night! And I. hut fifty-eight!"
The big man looked at him with eyes
of compassion. "It may’ he,” he said,
aftor h. pau-yh "that /the physicians
are wrong, Messer Blondel. I have
known such a case.”
“They are. they shall be wrong!’’
Blondel replied. “For you will give me
your remedy! It was God led mo
here today. It was God put it in your
heart to tell me this. You will give
me your remedy and I shall live! You
will, will you not? Man. you can pity
and you will?” And with his out
stretched hands he tried to seize and
through the Inner gate, the Port* Ter-
tasse, he disappeared. The big man
waiter awhile, sunning himself on the
steps, hls face toward the ramparts.
“He will come back, oh, yes, he will
come back,” he purred, smiling all over
hls large face. “For I, Caesar Bas
terga, have a brain. And ’tis better, a
brain than thews and sinews, gold or
lands, seeing it has all these at com
mand when I need them. The fish ts
hooked. It will be strange if I do not
land him before the year is out. But
the bribe to his physician—it was a
happy thought:—a happy thought of this
brain of Caesar Barterga, graduate of
Padua, ‘viri vulde periti. doctlssimique!”
And discovered? What?” Blondel ask* embrace the other’s hand—to carry
td eagerly. “Its use?”
“A certain use,” the other replied ”au
■tiously. “Or. rather, it was. not he’, but
an associate, called by him the Physician
of Aleppo, who discovered It. This man
was the pupil of the learned Rhazes. and
the tutor of the equally learned Avicenno.
the link in fact, between them; but hls
name, for so-me reason .perhaps because
he mixed with hls practice a greater de
gree of mysticism than was approved
by the Arabian schools of the next gen
eration, has not com* down to us. This
man identified the product which had de
fied Ibn Jasher’s tests with a subo ance
even then considered by most to be fabu
lous, or to be extracted only from the
horn of the unicorn if that animal ex
isted. Than it had some of the proper’les
of the fabled substance, he proceed©! to
prove to tne satisfaction of Jbr. Jasher
by curing of a certain incurable disease,
five persons."
“No more than five?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“The substance was exhausted.”
Blondel gasped. “Why did he not make
more?” he cried. His voice was almost
savage.
“The experiment,” Basterga answered,
“of which It was the product was cosily.”
Blondel’s face turned purple. “Costly? ’
he cried. “Costly? When the lives of
men hang in the balance.”
“True, ’ Basterga replied with a smile
“but l was about to say that, costly as
It was, it was not Its price which bind
ered the production of a farther sup
ply. The reason was more simple. He
could not extract it.”
“Could not? But he had made it
once?"
“Precisely.”
“Then why could he not make it
again?" the Syndic asked. He was red
with indignation. It was strange how
seriously he took the matter
“He could not.” Bastergi made an
swer. "He repeated the process again
and again, but the peculiar product,
which at the first trial had resulted from
the precipitation, was not obtained.”
“There was something lacking!”
“Precisely, there was something lack
ing.” Basterga answered. “But what
that uras which was lacking, or ho>v it
had entered into the alembic In the first
instance could net be discovered. The
sage tried the experiment under all the
known conditions, and particularly vher
the moon was In the same quarter anJ
when the sun was in the same house
He tried it, 'ideed, thrice on the corres
ponding day of the year, hut—the pro
duct did not Issue.”
“How do you account fbr that?”
“Probably, m the first instance, an tm
purity in one of the drugs Introduced a
foreign substance into the alembic. That
chance never occurred again as far as I
can learn, *tintll, amusing myself with
the same precipitation, I—I, Caesar Bas
terga of Padua—” the scholar continued,
not boastfully but in a tone thoughtful
and almost absent, "in the last year of
the last century, hit at length upon the
same result.”
The Syndic leaned forward; his hands
gripped his knees more tightly. "And
you,” h© said, "can repeat it?"
Basterga shook hls bead sorrowfully,
“No,” he said, “I cannot. Not that I
have myself essayed the experiment
more than thrice. I coiii<j not afford It.
But a correspondent, M. de Laurens, of
Paris, physician to the king has, at tne
expense of a wealthy patient, spent more
than fifteen thousand florins in essays.
And without result.”
The big man spoke with his eyes on the
floor. Had he turned them on the Syn
dic he must have seen that he was
greatly agitated. Beads of moisture
stood on his brow, his face was red. he
swallowed often and with difficulty. At
length, with an effort at composure,
“Possibly your product-!# not after all
the same as Ibn Jashtr’s?” he said.
“I tested It In the same way,” Bas
terga answered quietly
“What? By curing persons of that
disease?”
‘’Yes,” Basterga VAiotned. -“And I
u
to his lips.
“Alas, alas,” Basterga replied, muen
and strongly moved. "I cannot.”
“Cannot?”
“Cannot!"
The Syndic glared at him. "Why?” he
cried. "Why not? If I give you ”
“if you were to give me half of your
fortune,” Basterga answered solemnly,
"it were usejess! I myself have tne
fast symptoms of the disease.”
“You?”
“Yes. I."
The Syndic fell back In hls chair. A
groan broke from him that bore witness
at once to the bitterness of hls soul
and the finality of the argument. He
seemed in a moment shrunk to half
I.is size. In a moment disease and the
shadow of death clouded his features;
his cheeks were leaden: hls eyes, with
out light or understanding, conveyed
no meaning to hls brain. "You too!”
he muttered mechanically. "You, too! ’
“Yes,” Basterga replied in a sorrow
ful voice. “I, too. No wonder I feel
foi you. I have known It long, nor
has it proceeded far In my case. I have
even hopes, at least there are times
when I have hopes, that the physicians
may be mistaken.”
Blondell's eyes bulged suddenly larger.
"In that event?” he cried hoarsely. “In
that event surely ”
“Even in that event I am helpless to
aid you,” the big man answered, spread
ing out hls hands. "I am pledged by
the most solemn oath to retain the one
portion I have for the use of the Grand
Duke, my patron. And apart from that
oath, the benefits I have received at
his hand are such as to give him a claim
second only to my necessity. A claim,
Messer Blondel, which—I say it sorrow
fully—I dare not set aside for any pri
vate feeling or private gain.”
Blondel rose violently, hls hand claw
ing the air. "And I must die?” he
cried, hls voice thick with rage. "1
must die because he may be ill? Be
cause—because ” He stopped, strug
gling with himself, unable. It seemed,
to articulate. By and by it became ap
parent that the pause had another ori
gin, for when he spoke he had conquered
his passion. “Pardon me.” he said, stlii
hoarsely, but in a different tone—the
tone of one who saw that violence could
not help him. “I was forgetting my
self. Life—life is sweet to all, Messer
Ga-sterga, and we cannot lightly see it
pass from us. To have life within
sight, to know it within this room, per
haps within reach ”
“Not quite that,” Basterga murmured,
hls eyes wandering to the steel casket,
chained to the wall beside the hearth.
“Still, I understand; and, believe me,'
he added In a tone of sympathy, “I feel
for you, Messer Blondel. X feel deeply
for you.”
"Feel?” the Syndic mutttered. And
for an Instant his eyes gleamed sav
agely, the veins of his temples swelled.
"Feel!”
"But what can I do?”
Blondel could have answered, but to
what advantage? What could words
profit him, seeing that It was a life for
a life, and that, as all that a man hath
ho will give or hls life, so there Is noth
ing another hath that he will take for
It. Argument was useless; prayer, In
view tif the other’s confession, besides
the mark. The magistrate saw this,
and made an effort to resume hls dig
nity. “We will talk another day,” he
murmured, pressing his hand to his
btow, "another day!” And he turned
to the door. “You will not mention what
I have said to you, Messer Basterga?”
“Not a syllable.” hls host answered
as he followed him out. The abrupt
ness of the departure did not surprise
Mm. “Believe me, I feel for you, Mes
ser Blondel.”
The Syndic acknowledged the phrase
by a gesture not without, pathos, and,
passing out, stumbled blindly down the
narrow stairs. Basterga attended him
with respect to the outer door, and there
they parted In silence. The magistrate,
hlo shoulders bowed, walked slowly to
the left, where, turning Into the town
CHAPTER VI.
To Take or Leave.
The house in the Corra.terie, near the
Porte Tertasse, differed in no outward
respect from its neighbors. The same
row of chestnut trees darkened its lower
windows, tlhe same breezy view of the
Rhone meadows, the sloping vineyards
and the far-off Jura lightened its upper
rooms. A kindred life, a life apparently
as quiet and demure, moved within its
Walls. Yet was the house a house apart.
Silently and secretly it had absorbed and
sucked and drawn into itself the hearts
and souls arid minds of two men. It
held for the one that which the old prize
above all things in this world—life; and
for the other, that which the young set
above life—love.
Life? The Syndic did not doubt; the
Halt hod been dangled before his eyes
with too much cunning, too much skill.
• In a casket. In a room in that house in
the Corrattrie, his life lay hidden; his
life, and he could not come at it! His
life? Was it a marvel that waking or
sleeping he saw only that house, and that
room, and that casket chained to the
wall; that he saw at one time the four
steps rising to the door, and the placid
front with Its three tiers of windows; at
another time, .the room Itself with its lit
ter of scripts and dark-bound books, and
rich furnishings, and phials and jars and
strangely shaped alembics. Was It a
marvel that In the dreams of the night
the sick man toiled up and up and up
the narrow staircase of which every point
remained fixed in hls mind; or that wak
Ing, whatever hi s task, or wherever he
might be, alone or in company, in hls
parlor or in the Town House, he still fell
a-dreamlng of the room and the box—
the room and the box that held his life?
Had this been the worst! But it was
not. There were times, bitter times,
dark hours, when the pains were upon
him, and he saw hls fate clear before
him; for he had Known men die of the
disease which held him In Its cluitcl'-s,
and he knew how they had died. And
then he must needs lock himself into his
room that other eyes might not witness
the passionate, fits of revolt, of rage and
horror, and weak weeping, into which the
knowledge cast him. And out of which
he presently came back to—the house.
His life lay there, in that room, in that
house*, and he could not come at it! He
could not come at It: But he would! He
would!
It issued in that always; In some plan
or scheme for gaining possession of the
philter. Some of the plans that occurred
to him were wild a.nd desperate; danger
ous and hopeless on the face of them.
Others were merely violent; others again,
of which craft was the mainspring, held
out a prospect of success. For a whole
day the. notion of arresting Basterga on
a charge of treason, and seizing the a teel
casket together with his papers, was
uppermost. It seemed feasible. It- was
easy; for already there wore rumors of
the man abroad, and his name had been
mentioned at the Council table. The
Syndic had only to give the word, and
the arrest would be m'ade, the search In
stituted, the, papers and casket seized.
Nay, If he did not give -the word. It was
possible that others might.
But when he thought of that step, that
irrevocable step, he knew that he would
not have the courage to take it. For
If Basterglu had so much as two min
utes’ notice, If his ear so much as caught
the tread of those who came to take him,
he might. In pure malignity, pour the
medicine on the floor, or he might so hide
it as to defy search. And at tne thought
—a.t the thought of the destruction of that
wherein lay his only chance of life, his
only hope of seeing the sun and feeling
again the balmy breath of spring, the
Syndic trembled and shook and sweated
with rage and fear. No, he would not
have the courage. He would not dare.
For a week and more after the thought
occurred to him, he dared not approach
the scholar’s lodging, or be seen In the
neighborhood, so great was his fear ot
rousing Basterga’s suspicions and sot
ting him on his guard.
At the end of eight days the choice of
wa.v s was presented to him in a con
crete form; and with an abruptness which
placed him on the ease of perplexity. It
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the ATLANTA CONSTITUTION
smiled. They were his very good
friends and allies.
"Well, it is not like. me. I ean say
that I am not often,” with a keen look
at Baudiehon, “caught napping! And
now, M. Fabri,” with his usual practical
air, ”1 have delayed the business long
enough. What is it? And what is
that?” He pointed to the letter in the
First Syndic's hands.
"Well, it is really your affair in the
main,” Fabri answered, “since as Fourth
Syndic you are responsible for the guard
ml &)»•* saf.ty mid out* afterward.
It is a warning,” he continued, his eyes
reverting to the page before him, “from
our secret agent in Turin, whose name
I need not mention”—Blondel nodded—
“informing us of a fresh attempt to be
made on /the city before Christmas; by
means of rafts formed of hurdles and
capable of transporting whole companies
of soldiers. These lie has himself seen
tried In the River Po, and they per
formed the work. Having reached the
walls by their means the assailants are
mount by ladders which are being
made to fit into one another. They are
covered with black cloth, and can be
laiid against the wall without noise. It
sounds—circumstantial?” Fabri com
mented, breaking off and looking at
Blondel.
The 'Syndic nodded thoughtfully.
“Yes,” he said, “I think so. I think
also," he continued, “that with the aid
of my friend. Captain Blandano, I shall
be able to give a good account of the
rafts and the ladders.”
Baudiehon Interposed. “But that is
, not all,” he drawned, rolling ponderous-
was at a morning meeting of the smaller j ^ c ha,ir as he spoke. He wtts a
council. The day was dull, 'the chamber jnan with a double chin and a
warm, .the business to be transacted mo- ^ijignty manner; honest, but slow, and
notorious; and Blondel, far from well ^and j spokesman of the more wealthy
buighers. His neighbor Petitot, a man
interested in one tiling only—beside which
tlie most important uffalr s of Geneva
seemed small as the doings of an ant
hill viewed through a glass—had fallen
asleep, or nearly asleep. Niatuarlly
restless and wakeful man, of thin habit
and nervous temperament, he had never
done such a thing before; and it was
unfortunate that he succumbed on this
occasion, for while he drowsed the cur
rent of business changed; the debate grew
serious, even vital. Finally he awoke to
the knowledge of place and time with a
name ringing in hls ears; a name so fixed
in hls waking thoughts that, before he
knew where has Was or what he was do
ing, he repeated it in a tone that drew all
eyes upon him.
“Basterga!”
■Some knew he had slept and smiied;
more had not noticed it, and turned,
struck by the sertange tone in which he
echoed the name. Fabri, the First Syndic,
who sat two places from him, and hod
just taken a letter from the Secretary,
leaned forward so as to view him. “Ay,
Basterga,” he said. “An Italian, I take
it. Do you know him, Messer Blondel?”
He was awake now. but, confused and
startled, inclined to believe that he was
on his trial; and that the faint parleyings
with treason, small things hard to define,
•to which he had stooped, were known.
Mechanically, to gain time, he repeated
the name. "Basterga?”
"Yes,” Fabri repeated. "Do you know
him?”
“Caesar Basterga, is lit?"
"That Is the name.”
He was himself now, though hls nerves
still shook; himself so far as he could
be, while Ignorant of what had passed,
and how he came to be challenged. “Ye«,
I know him,” he said slowly, "if you
mean a Paduan, a scholar of some note,
,1 believe, who applied to me—I dare say
it would be six weeks back—for a license
to stay awhile In the town.”
"Which you granted?”
“In the usual course. He had letters
from”—Blondel shrugged his shoulders—
"I forget from whom. What of him?"
with a steady look at Baudiehon the
Councillor, hls life-long rival, and
the quarter, whence if trouble were
brewing, it was to be expected. “What
of him?" 'he repeated, throwing himself
back in his chair, and tapping the table
with his fingers.
“Tlnis." Fabri answered, waving the
letter which be had in hls hands.
“But I do not know what this is,”
Blondel replied coolly. “I am afraid— ’
and he looked at hls neighbor on either
side—"was I asleep?”
of singular appearance, lean, With a
long thin drooping nose, commonly sup
ported him. Petitot, who bore the nick
name of “the Inquisitor,” represented
the Venerable Company of Pastors, and
was viewed with especial distaste by Die
turbulent spirits whom the war had left
in th'e city, as well as by the lower
ranks, who upheld Blondel. In sense
and vigor the Fourth Syndicate wa3
more than a match for the two pre
cisions: but honesty of purpose has i
weight of its own that slowly makes it
self felt. "That Is not all,” Baudtiehon
repeated after a glance at hls neighbor
and ally, Petitot, ’’I want to know ’’
"One moment, Messer Baudiehon, if
you please. ” Fabri saild cutting him
short, amid a partial titter; the phrase
“I want to know” was so often on the
Councillor’s lips that it had become
ridiculous. “One moment; as you say,
that is not all. The writer proceeds to
warn us that the Grand Duke's lieuten
ant, M. d'Albigny, has taken a house on
the Italian side of the frontier, and ts
there constructing a huge petard on
wheels which is to be dragged up to the
gate ” ■
“With the ladders and rafts?”
"They seem to belong to another
scheme.” Fabri said, as he turned back
and conned the letter afresh.
“With M. d'Albigny at the bottom of
both?”
"Yes.”
“Well, if he h© not more successful
with this,” Blondeil answered contemptu
ously, “than he was the attempt to
mine the Arsenal—which ended in sup
plying us with two or three casks of
powder—1 think Captain Blandano and
I may deal with him-”
A murmur of assent approved the
boast; but it did not proceed from all.
There were men at the table, who had
children, who had wires, who had daugh
ters, whoso faces were grave. Just
thirty years had passed over the world
since the horrors of the massacre of St.
Bartholomew, to be speedily followed by
the sack of Antwerp, had paled the
cheek of Europe. Just thirty years were
to elapse and the sack of Magden’burg
was to prove a match and more than a
match for both, in horror and cruelty.
That the papists. If they entered, would
deal more gently with Geneva, the head
and front of offense, or extend to the
Mother of Heretics mercy which thev
had refused to her children, these men
did not believe. The presence of an
enemy ever lurking within a league of
night and by day, had shaken their
nerves. They feared everything, they
feared always. In fitful sleep in the
small hours, they heard their doors
smashed in; their dreams were disturb
ed by cries and shrieks, by the dim of
bells, and the clasli of weapons.
(To Be Continued !
2 fear *o,” said one, while tbe other l their gates, ever threatening them by
GRAND OLD MAN OF MFXIC0.
(From The Metropolitan Magazine.)
Among the rulers of the world today
there ho more. sturdy, interesting pr
picturesque figure than porfirio Diaz,
president of the Mexican republic.
Hero of more than fifty battles, fought
at the head of his men. leader of des
perate charges and defender of forlorn
hopes, six times held prisoner and each
time eseaping by the narrowest hazard,
his cureer reads like a tale of an ancient
crusader.
He was born in the city of Oaxaca, in
the south of Mexico, on September 15.
1830, and inherited from his mother a
strain of aboriginal blood, her grand
mother having been a Mixteca Indian.
Hls parents wished to educate him for
the church. After finishing with a pri
mary school at 7, he served as errand
boy in a store until he was 8 years old,
and from that time until he was 14 he
studied in the seminary. From 14 to 17
he was* obliged to support himself by
tutoring, and at thw age he volunteered
for the war with th- Idnlted States, but
was not sent to th' front. The young
churchman then decided to be a lawyer,
and after a four years' course ho entered
the law office of Juarez.
Soon after he served in the revolution
against Santa Anna, at the close of
which he became rayor of Ixtlan and
established a military force there with
which he overthrew Jarcia, who had is
sued a pronunciamei to in Oaxaca-
Later he became on<tain in the national
guard and crushed he rebellion of Ja-
miltepec. In the vat of the reform Jua
rez gave tjie young tficer control of the
district of Tehua.it' >ec, where he not
only held hls own ir. the field, but com
menced to put in pnotice his ideas of
public education an good government.
Then followed a'm.tbcr of campaigns
preceding the inxasrn of Mexico by
France, England a ii Spain in 1862,
when Juarez sent hn to the front to
hold back the inyad’s while he should
gather forces ih. th Interior, and on
'May 5, 1862, he ironthe splendid battle
of the Cinco de May against the train
ed European sol(■«•;.of Ip>rencez. After
an heroic defense a * Puebla, he was
obliged to capitillat to the superior
forces of the Frenc,out refused to take
parole with the oth officers and soon
escaped from prison.
At this juncture President Juarez
offered to make bin secretary of war,
Diaz declined e honor on the
but
ground that he Wa-too young a man
for such a prontotio but later he was
forced to yield to ,/rez's solicitations
and became comntaor in chief of the
army and general ofivision.
Again the combine- orces of England,
France and Spain ere concentrated
upon him and Baza' took the field
against him in pers Once more Diaz
was obliged to sum»r to greatly su
perior forces. Again escaped his jail
ers by scaling the pan wall, and got
away with a rewardf *10,000 on his
head.
For two years mohe carried on a
guerrilla warfare wi tne invaders **
the northern part « Mexico, during”
which he hiad many h J breadth escapes.
Then he appeared i be south again
and recaptured his n'e city of Oaxa
ca. Gathering forces aest he could, ha
advanced on PuebltAd on April 2,
1867, made a desper assault against
the city and scored greatest battle
In capturing it.
THE LX
(From The Bajst'franscript.)
The butcher is a i minded fellow.
He ig always willing meet his cus
tomers half weigh.
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