Monsieur de Fongereues was alone in his cabinet. Magdalena had left him only a few moments before. A violent scene had taken place between the husband and wife.

The ruin that threatened the Fongereues mansion had been temporarily staved off by the marriage that had been arranged between IrÈne and the Vicomte, but as soon as the world knew that the marriage was broken off, the tongues of gossips began to wag.

The Fongereues felt that their doom was sealed when they knew that IrÈne's millions were forever lost to them. Then this unhappy pair began to quarrel. To Magdalena's violent reproaches Fongereues answered by violent recriminations. Was it not her senseless indulgence that had caused the Vicomte to become the depraved and worthless person upon whom every one now turned a cold shoulder? If they were ruined, was it not because of the mad extravagance of mother and son?

And Magdalena replied:

"If I have been weak, was it not still more your duty to be strong? Who is the proper guide for a young man if not his father? You have been faithless to your duties, and, moreover, has he a vice which is not yours?"

Fongereues foamed with rage, and before he could speak his wife had the audacity to say:

"You are choked by the blood of your brother!"

She thus reproached him for a crime that he had committed at her instigation. A moment more and this great lord would have demeaned himself to brutalities worthy of a lacquey, but with a look of contempt Magdalena swept past him and left the room. And now, crushed into a large arm-chair, the Marquis sat with his eyes fixed on the floor.

"Count Fernando de Vellebri wishes to see you," a servant knocked at the door to say.

"One moment!" answered the Marquis.

He hurried to his dressing room, bathed his face in cold water and hastily brushed his fast whitening hair. He took his seat at his desk, which was covered with papers.

"Show Monsieur de Vellebri up," he said.

He shuddered as he spoke, for he had learned through Cyprien that this Fernando belonged to the society of the Jesuits. The young man entered.

He was no longer the obsequious person with the stereotyped smile, who had done the will of the Vicomte de Talizac. Dressed in black, a long single-breasted coat, Fernando was the type of the Jesuits who pervaded French society. His dark hair rendered his pallor more remarkable. His half closed eyes were brilliant in spite of their heavy lids.

Fongereues divined a contest. What new struggle would he be compelled to undergo? He pointed to a chair, but the Italian bowed and remained standing.

"You wished to see me," said the Marquis, "and I am at your service. But what is this costume? I was not aware that you belonged to any religious society, officially, at least."

"As to my claims to this dress," answered De Vellebri, coldly, "I am quite ready to explain them, if you will condescend to listen to me."

His voice was monotonous, as he continued:

"You are not ignorant, sir, of how greatly the conduct of the Vicomte de Talizac has compromised himself and his family."

"I beg your pardon," interrupted the Marquis, "but may I ask if you were not the companion of my son in most of his excesses?"

Fernando smiled satirically.

"Perhaps you are not quite aware of the part I played in these excesses. Monsieur de Talizac is not a child, to be influenced for good or evil by his friends. Perhaps, instead of accusing me, you should thank me for having saved the honor of your house more than once."

"Indeed, sir! I confess I do not understand."

"It seems to me," said Fernando, still very calm, "that we are wandering from the real subject of this conversation. A powerful Society, sir, attached above all else to the practice of all virtues and to the triumph of God's cause, has for a long time been watching you. Your influence and your talents all give a guarantee that you may become a most useful auxiliary to the society to which I have the honor to belong."

"The Society of Jesus?" interrupted the Marquis.

Fernando did not reply to this direct question other than with a slight bow.

"This society," he continued, "is disposed to come to your aid. It is they who have prevented His Majesty from revoking the favors shown to your son."

Fongereues uttered an exclamation of surprise.

"And they, too, will enable you to re-conquer the rank to which you belong."

"On condition that I will be their slave!" said the Marquis, with a constrained smile.

It was certain that in this terrible crisis the Marquis was ready to snatch at anything that would save him. But in spite of himself, he felt an invincible repugnance to giving himself up entirely to the control of these people and to have no will of his own. He hesitated. Fernando seemed to read his every thought.

"I think, sir," he said, "that you exaggerate the consequences of the step I suggest."

"And if I refuse?"

"You will not refuse," said the Italian, quietly.

Fongereues bit his lips.

"What does the Society of Jesus require of me?"

"Two things—a great service and a guarantee."

"What do they offer me?"

"The position of Prime Minister."

The Marquis started.

"I do not understand you," he said.

"The position of Prime Minister."

Beads of sweat broke out on the brow of the Marquis. He knew that the society was strong enough to keep its promises. He knew that as Prime Minister all his dreams of power and wealth would be realized.

"You spoke also of a service and a guarantee," he said, quietly.

"The service is the greatest that can be rendered by any man to the Catholic world and to his Holiness the Pope."

Fernando lowered his voice.

"You are aware, sir, that by a Royal Edict of 1764 the Jesuits were expelled from France. Two years since, in 1822, His Majesty, unable to elevate in its integrity the standard of Catholicism, contented himself with authorizing the sojourn in France of the Fathers of the Faith. The time has now come to arrest these persecutions entailed on the Society of Jesus. We are resolved that they shall be solemnly re-established under their own name, with all their rights and privileges, and this not by virtue of a royal edict, but by a legal measure emanating from the Chamber of Peers. This is a bold act and one full of danger. We are fully aware of it, and do not propose to deny it. To carry out this plan successfully would require great dexterity and astuteness, as well as profound faith in the justice of the cause you defend. The reward would be the dazzling recompense I have named. Monsieur de Fongereues, are you—can you be this man?"

Fongereues started to his feet.

"Yes—I can!" he cried.

"We will assist you," said the Jesuit. "We are certain of the support of a respectable minority. It is for you to scatter rewards, and warm lukewarm consciences, and I repeat, sir—a work like this is magnificent."

"I belong to you, heart and soul," said Fongereues, "and to-morrow—"

"Wait," said Vellebri, laying his hand on the arm of the Marquis, thus forcing him back to his seat. "I spoke of a guarantee."

"Ah! yes," answered Fongereues, "my word of honor, I presume, is enough?"

Fernando did not seem to think a reply incumbent upon him. He continued:

"The man in whom the Society places enough confidence to entrust him with arms which will ensure his victory, should be bound to them by strong ties."

Fongereues listened with interest and curiosity.

"And the strongest ties are those of gold," said the Jesuit, slowly and distinctly. "You questioned me as to my claim to my dress. I am the Secretary of the General of the Society, and I am required to ask, if you are willing to aid in the establishment of houses like those of Montrouge and Saint-Acheul in Parma and Tuscany?"

"Most certainly," answered Fongereues, uneasily, for this allusion to money was most unwelcome. "I am ready to second all efforts of this Society, but still it would be necessary for me to know just what amount would be required of me. My resources are just now greatly restricted, and—"

"Do not be concerned," said Vellebri, coldly, "the amount need not disturb you." Fongereues sighed with relief. "You will have to give but one million."

"A million!" repeated the Marquis, in despair.

"In fixing this sum our Superiors have merely carried out their plan of attaching you to their cause."

"But a million!" repeated the Marquis, "it is impossible. Were I to sell all that I now have in the world, I should not realize the half of this sum!"

"Is this, then, a refusal?"

"By no means. But a million!—I haven't it," and he repeated these words over and over again.

"But you have resources which should make such a sacrifice easy."

"No, you are mistaken. I am ruined, entirely ruined!"

His agitation was so great that he forgot to dissimulate.

"But the fortune of your father was very large, and cannot be exhausted."

"But I was robbed of that!"

Fernando rose from his chair.

"Permit me," he said, "to decline to enter into any affairs foreign to the matters we have under consideration. I came to offer you peace or war. Peace means fortune and power, and war—"

"War!" repeated Fongereues, "I do not understand you."

"When the Society proposes a compact, when, as I have just done to you, she unveils her secret designs, she holds in reserve a weapon which places at her mercy the man of whom she wished to make an ally, and whom she does not choose to have for an adversary."

"I! I an adversary of the Society of Jesus! You cannot mean what you say."

"Everything is possible, Marquis. This is our ultimatum—either you will accept the proposals I have made, and placing in my hands within five days the million I ask, you will at once begin the campaign whose success is certain, or within five days a certain person will place in the hands of the Procureur de Roi papers which will be your ruin."

"What do you mean?"

Fongereues was livid as he asked this question.

"They are notes, forged by the Vicomte, your son!"

"Talizac a forger! Impossible!"

"I assure you that it is only too true. Once more, let me ask for your decision."

"I beg you to remember that my devotion to the Society is unalterable. But a million—you know!"

"You understand," repeated Vellebri, "it is a million that is demanded?"

"Yes, I know. Grant me a little time."

"We give you five days, as I said, at the end of which time the proposition I have named must be presented to the Chamber of Peers."

"I will present it."

"But the Society will not permit you to interfere until you have given the required guarantee. And now, good-morning, sir."

In vain did Fongereues petition the Italian to remain, but Fernando bowed coldly and departed.

Fongereues sank back in his chair, utterly crushed. For a few moments he had indulged in the hope of a proud future, and now, knowing that he could not raise a million, he felt that he was in deeper perplexity than ever.

Cyprien now appeared.

"You made a mistake, sir, in hesitating for a moment. Write to the Society that before five days have elapsed you will have fulfilled the conditions imposed."

"That would be folly!"

"Is not Fanfar in prison?"

"What of that? He will not be condemned."

"By the judges, possibly not—but by us."

Fongereues held himself more erect.

"Tell me what you mean, Cyprien?" he asked.

The lacquey laughed.

"I mean simply, that I will kill this Fanfar!"