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THE MEMOIRS OF A PHYSICIAN (Complete Edition: Volumes 1-5). Alexandre DumasЧитать онлайн книгу.

THE MEMOIRS OF A PHYSICIAN (Complete Edition: Volumes 1-5) - Alexandre Dumas


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am ignorant what he is. I only know that no king inspires more respect—no idol commands more adoration—than he from those to whom he deigns to reveal himself."

      "But his name—how is he entitled?"

      "I have heard him called by many names. But only two remain in my memory. One is used by the old man who is his traveling companion from Milan to where I left him; the other that he gives himself. The aged man calls him Acharat, and that sounds anti-Christian, does it not, lady? He calls himself Joseph Balsamo."

      "What does he say of himself?"

      "He knows everything and divines what he knew not. He is the contemporary of all time. He has lived through all ages. He speaks—the Lord forgive me! and forgive him for such blasphemy! not only of Alexander the Great, Cæsar and Charlemagne, as though he had known them, albeit I believe they were dead ever so long ago, but also of the high priest Caiaphas, Pontius Pilate and Our Lord Himself, whose martyrdom he claims to have witnessed."

      "He is some quack," said the Princess Louise.

      "I do not clearly understand the word, madame; but he is a dangerous man, terrible too, before whom everything bends, snaps and crumbles away. When he is taken to be defenseless he is armed at all points; when believed alone, he stamps his foot and an army springs up; or at a beck of the finger—smiling the while."

      "Very well," soothed the daughter of France; "take cheer, my child; you will be protected against him. So long as you desire the protection, of course. But do not believe any longer in these supernatural visions born of a sick brain. In any case the walls of St. Denis Abbey are a sure rampart against infernal power, and what is more to be dreaded, mark you! against human power. Now, what do you propose doing?"

      "With this property of mine, in jewels, I mean to pay for my repose in a convent—if possible, in this one."

      Lorenza placed on the table some twenty thousand crowns' worth of bracelets, rings and earrings of price.

      "These jewels are mine, as Balsamo gave them to me, and I shall turn them over to Heaven's use. I have nothing of his but his steed Djerid, which was the instrument of my deliverance, but I should like him to have it. So I solicit the favor of staying here, on my knees."

      "Rest easy, my child," said the lady superior; "from this time forth you may dwell among us; and when you shall have shown by your exemplary conduct that you deserve the favor, you may again be the bride of the Lord; and I will answer for it that you will not be removed out of St. Denis without knowledge of the superior."

      Lorenza fell at the princess feet and poured forth the most affectionate and sincere thanks.

      But suddenly she rose on one knee, and listened with trembling and pallor.

      "Oh, God, how I shake! he is coming! he means to be my destroyer—that man is at hand. Do you not see how my limbs quiver?"

      "I see this, indeed."

      "Now I feel the stab in the heart," continued the Italian: "he comes nearer and nearer."

      "You are mistaken."

      "No, no. In spite of myself, he draws me to him. Hold me back from him."

      Princess Louise seized the speaker in her arms.

      "Recover your senses, child," she said. "Even if any one came, even he, you would be in safety here."

      "He approaches—I tell you, he approaches," screamed Lorenza, terrified into inertia, but with her hands and her eyes directed toward the room door.

      "Madness!" said the abbess. "Do you think that anybody can intrude on the Royal Lady of France? None but the bearer of an order from the king."

      "I do not know how he entered," stammered the fugitive, recoiling, "but I am certain that he is coming up the stairs—he is not ten steps off—there he is!"

      The door flew open, so that the princess receded, frightened in spite of herself by the odd coincidence. But it was a nun who appeared.

      "What do you want—who is there?" cried her superior.

      "Madame, it is a nobleman who presents himself to have speech with your royal highness."

      "His title?"

      "Count Fenix, please your highness."

      "Do you know the name as his?" inquired the princess of the fugitive.

      "I do not know the name, but it is he," she replied.

      "Charged with a mission to the king of France from the king of Prussia," said the nun, "he wishes the honor of a hearing by your highness."

      Princess Louise reflected an instant; then turning to Lorenza and bidding her go into her inner room, she ordered the sister to show in the visitor. She went and took her chair, waiting, not without emotion, for the sequel of the incident.

      Almost instantly reappearing, the Carmelite ushered in a man whom we have seen under the title of Fenix, at the presentation of Jeanne Dubarry at court. He was garbed in the same Prussian uniform, of severe cut; he wore the military wig and the black stock; his expressive black eyes lowered in presence of Princess Louise, but only with the respect of any man for a princess of the royal house, whatever his rank. He raised them rapidly, as though he feared showing too much timidity.

      "I thank your royal highness for the favor kindly done me," he said, "though I reckoned upon it from knowing that your highness always upholds the unfortunate."

      "I endeavor so to do, my lord," replied the lady with dignity, for she hoped in ten minutes to defeat the man who impudently came to claim outside help to oppress where he had abused his powers.

      The count bowed as if he did not see any hidden meaning in the rejoinder.

      "What can I do for your lordship?" continued the lady in the same tone of irony.

      "Everything. I should like your highness to believe that I would not without grave motives vex you in the solitude she has chosen, but you have sheltered a person in whom I am interested in all points."

      "What is the name of this person?"

      "Lorenza Feliciani."

      "What is this person to you—a relative, sister?"

      "She is my wife."

      "Lorenza Feliciani, wife of Count Fenix!" said the abbess, raising her voice so as to be heard in the inner room. "No Countess Fenix is in St. Denis Abbey," she dryly added.

      "It may be," said the count, who was not yet acknowledging his defeat, "that your highness is not persuaded that Lorenza and Countess Fenix are the same person. Kindly give the order that Lorenza shall be brought before you, and all doubt will cease. I ask pardon for being so persistent, but I am tenderly attached to this wife of mine, and I believe she is sorry we are separated, poor as is my merit."

      "Ah!" thought the princess, "Lorenza spoke the truth, for this man is highly dangerous."

      The count stood with a calm bearing, strictly according to court etiquette.

      "I must prevaricate," thought Princess Louise, before she said: "My lord, I am not in the position to restore a wife who is not here. I understand your seeking her with such persistency, if you love her as dearly as you say; but you will have to seek elsewhere if you want success."

      On entering, the count had glanced round the closet, and his gaze had caught a reflection, however slight, of the jewels placed by Lorenza on the little table in the darkest corner. By the sparkling Fenix recognized them.

      "If your royal highness would kindly collect your memory, though I have to ask her to do such violence—it will be recalled that Lorenza Feliciani was here, for she laid those jewels on yonder table before she retired into the next room."

      The princess colored up as the count continued:

      "So that I wait solely for your highness' leave for me to order her to come forth, for I cannot doubt that she will immediately obey."

      The


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