Jr. Horatio Alger

Introduces Two Celebrities.

What a change a short half-hour may make in the position and feelings of any person! Little did Ben imagine, when he set out on a drive in the morning with Major Grafton, that he was on his way to one of the most hopeless of prisons.

It was hard even now for him to realize his position. He looked from the window, and with a glance of envy saw in a field, not far away, some Swiss peasants at work. They were humble people, living a quiet, uneventful, laborious life; yet Ben felt that they were infinitely better off than he, provided he were doomed to pass the remainder of his life in this refuge. But of this he would not entertain the idea. He was young, not yet seventeen, and life was full of pleasant possibilities.

"I am a Yankee," he thought, "and I don't believe they will succeed in keeping me here long. I will keep a bright lookout for a chance to escape."

Half an hour later Ben heard the key grate in the lock, and, fixing his eyes on the entrance, he saw Francois enter.

"Monsieur, dinner is ready," he said.

Ben, notwithstanding his disagreeable situation, felt that he, too, was ready for the dinner. He was glad to find that it was not to be served to him in his own room. He would have a chance of seeing the other inmates of the house.

"Where is it?" he asked.

"Follow me," answered Francois, of course in French.

He led the way, and Ben followed him into a lower room, long and narrow, which was used as the dining-room. There were no side-windows, and it would have been quite dark but for a narrow strip of window near the ceiling.

Around a plain table sat a curious collection of persons. It was easy to see that something was the matter with them, for I do not wish to have it understood that all the inmates of the house were, like our hero, perfectly sane. M. Bourdon was not wholly a quack, but he was fond of money, and, looking through the eyes of self-interest, he was willing to consider Ben insane, although he knew very well that he was as rational as himself.

"Sit here, monsieur," said Francois.

Ben took the seat indicated, and naturally turned to survey his immediate neighbors.

The one on the right-hand was a tall, venerable-looking man, with white hair and a flowing beard, whose manner showed the most perfect decorum. The other was a thin, dark-complexioned man, of bilious aspect, and shifty, evasive eyes. Neither noticed Ben at first, as the dinner appeared to engross their first attention. This consisted of a thin broth and a section of a loaf of coarse bread as the first course. Ben had been accustomed to more luxurious fare, and he was rather surprised to see with what enjoyment his neighbors partook of it. Next came a plate of meat, and this was followed by a small portion of grapes. There was nothing more. It was clear that M. Bourdon did not consider rich fare good for his patients.

"I think I would rather dine at the hotel," thought Ben; but the diet was not by any means the worst thing of which he complained.

"If I were free I would not mind how poor and plain my fare was," he thought.

His companions finished dinner before him, and had leisure to bestow some attention upon him.

"My little gentleman, do you come from Rome?" asked the venerable old gentleman on his right.

"No, sir," answered Ben.

"I am sorry. I wished to ask you a question."

"Indeed, sir. Perhaps I might answer it even now. I have been in Florence."

"No; that will not do; and yet, perhaps you may have met persons coming from Rome?"

"I did, monsieur."

"Then perhaps they told you how things were going on."

"Very well, I believe, monsieur."

"No, that could not be," said the old gentleman, shaking his head. "I am sure nothing would go well without me."

"Do you, then, live in Rome?" asked Ben, curiously.

"Surely!" exclaimed the old man. "Did you not know that the Pope lived in Rome?"

"But what has that to do with you, sir?"

"A great deal. Know, my little gentleman, that I—to whom you are speaking—am the Pope."

This was said with an air of importance.

"There's no doubt about his being insane," thought Ben.

"How, then, do you happen to be here?" asked our hero, interested to see what his companion would say.

"I was abducted," said the old gentleman, lowering his voice, "by an emissary of the King of America. M. Bourdon is a cousin of the king, and he is in the plot. But they won't keep me here long."

"I hope not," said Ben, politely.

"The King of Spain has promised to send an army to deliver me. I only received his letter last week. You will not tell M. Bourdon, will you?"

"Certainly not," answered Ben.

"It is well; I thought I could rely upon your honor."

"My friend," said another voice, that of his left-hand neighbor, "you are losing your time in talking with that old fool. The fact is, he isn't right here," and he touched his head.

The Pope appeared deeply absorbed in thought, and did not hear this complimentary remark.

"He thinks he is the Pope. He is no more the Pope than I am."

Ben nodded non-committally.

"He ought to be here. But I—I am the victim of an infamous horde of enemies, who have placed me here."

"Why should they do that, sir?"

"To keep me out of my rights. It is the English Government that has done it. Of course, you know who I am."

"No, sir, I don't think I do."

"Look well at me!" and the dark man threw himself back in his chair for inspection.

"I am afraid I don't recognize you, monsieur," said Ben.

"Bah! where are your eyes?" said the other, contemptuously. "I am Napoleon Bonaparte!"

"But I thought you died at St. Helena," said Ben.

"Quite a mistake, I assure you. The English Government so asserted, but it was a deception. They wished my memory to die out among my faithful French. They buried my effigy, but smuggled me off in a vessel late at night. They placed me here, and here they mean to keep me—if they can. But some day I shall escape; I shall re-enter France; I shall summon all to my banner, and at the head of a great army I shall enter Paris. Do you know what I will do then?"

"What will you do, sir?" asked Ben, with some curiosity.

"I shall descend upon England with an army of five millions of men," said the dark man, his eyes flashing, "and burn all her cities and towns."

"That will be rather severe, won't it?" asked Ben.

"She deserves it; but I may do worse."

"How can that be?"

"Do you see that man over on the other side of the table—the short, red-haired man?"

"Yes, I see him."

"He is a chemist and has invented a compound a thousand times more powerful than dynamite. I am negotiating for it, and, if I succeed, I mean to blow the whole island out of the water. What do you think of that, eh?" he continued, triumphantly.

"I think in that case I shall keep away from England," answered Ben, keeping as straight a face as he could.

"Ah, you will do well."

When dinner was over, the boarders passed out of the room, Ben among them. He was destined not to go out quietly.

Suddenly a wild-looking woman darted toward him and threw her arms around his neck, exclaiming:

"At last I have found you, my son, my son!"

Ben struggled to release himself, assisted by Francois, who did not scruple to use considerable force.

"None of your tricks, madam!" he cried, angrily.

"Will you take from me my boy?" she exclaimed, piteously.

"There is some mistake. I am not your son," said Ben.

The woman shook her head sadly.

"He disowns his poor mother," she said, mournfully.

On the whole, Ben was rather glad to return to his chamber.

"I don't like my fellow-boarders," he thought. "I sha'n't stay in the maison de fous any longer than I am obliged to."