Philippe jumped into the first coach he saw, and told the man to drive to the Rue1 St. Gilles, where he stopped at the house of M. de Cagliostro.
A large carriage, with two good horses, was standing2 in the courtyard; the coachman was asleep, wrapped in a greatcoat of fox-skins, and two footmen walked up and down before the door.
“Does the Count Cagliostro live here?” asked Philippe.
“He is just going out.”
“The more reason to be quick, for I wish to speak to him first. Announce the Chevalier Philippe de Taverney;” and he followed the men up-stairs.
“Ask him to walk in,” said, from within, a voice at once manly3 and gentle.
“Excuse me, sir,” said the chevalier to a man whom we have already seen, first at the table of M. de Richelieu, then at the exhibition of M. Mesmer, in Oliva’s room, and with her at the Opera ball.
“For what, sir?” replied he.
“Because I prevent you from going out.”
“You would have needed an excuse had you been much later, for I was waiting for you.”
“For me?”
“Yes, I was forewarned of your visit.”
“Of my visit?”
“Yes; two hours ago. It is about that time, is it not, since you were coming here before, when an interruption caused you to postpone4 the execution of your project?”
Philippe began to experience the same strange sensation with which this man inspired every one.
“Sit down, M. de Taverney,” continued he; “this armchair was placed for you.”
“A truce5 to pleasantry, sir,” said Philippe, in a voice which he vainly tried to render calm.
“I do not jest, sir.”
“Then a truce to charlatanism6. If you are a sorcerer, I did not come to make trial of your skill; but if you are, so much the better, for you must know what I am come to say to you.”
“Oh, yes, you are come to seek a quarrel.”
“You know that? perhaps you also know why?”
“On account of the queen. Now, sir, I am ready to listen;” and these last words were no longer pronounced in the courteous7 tones of a host, but in the hard and dry ones of an adversary8.
“Sir, there exists a certain publication.”
“There are many publications,” said Cagliostro.
“Well, this publication to-day was written against the queen.”
Cagliostro did not reply.
“You know what I refer to, count?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You have bought one thousand copies of it?”
“I do not deny it.”
“Luckily, they have not reached your hands.”
“What makes you think so, sir?”
“Because I met the porter, paid him, and sent him with them to my house; and my servant, instructed by me, will destroy them.”
“You should always finish yourself the work you commence, sir. Are you sure these thousand copies are at your house?”
“Certainly.”
“You deceive yourself, sir; they are here. Ah, you thought that I, sorcerer that I am, would let myself be foiled in that way. You thought it a brilliant idea to buy off my messenger. Well, I have a steward9, and you see it is natural for the steward of a sorcerer to be one also. He divined that you would go to the journalist, and that you would meet my messenger, whom he afterwards followed, and threatened to make him give back the gold you had given him, if he did not follow his original instructions, instead of taking them to you. But I see you doubt.”
“I do.”
“Look, then, and you will believe;” and, opening an oak cabinet, he showed the astonished chevalier the thousand copies lying there.
Philippe approached the count in a menacing attitude, but he did not stir. “Sir,” said Philippe, “you appear a man of courage; I call upon you to give me immediate10 satisfaction.”
“Satisfaction for what?”
“For the insult to the queen, of which you render yourself an accomplice11 while you keep one number of this vile12 paper.”
“Monsieur,” said Cagliostro, “you are in error; I like novelties, scandalous reports, and other amusing things, and collect them, that I may remember at a later day what I should otherwise forget.”
“A man of honor, sir, does not collect infamies13.”
“But, if I do not think this an infamy14?”
“You will allow at least that it is a lie.”
“You deceive yourself, sir. The queen was at M. Mesmer’s.”
“It is false, sir.”
“You mean to tell me I lie?”
“I do.”
“Well, I will reply in a few words—I saw her there.”
“You saw her!”
“As plainly as I now see you.”
Philippe looked full at Cagliostro. “I still say, sir, that you lie.”
Cagliostro shrugged15 his shoulders, as though he were talking to a madman.
“Do you not hear me, sir?” said Philippe.
“Every word.”
“And do you not know what giving the lie deserves?”
“Yes, sir; there is a French proverb which says it merits a box on the ears.”
“Well, sir, I am astonished that your hand has not been already raised to give it, as you are a French gentleman, and know the proverb.”
“Although a French gentleman, I am a man, and love my brother.”
“Then you refuse me satisfaction?”
“I only pay what I owe.”
“Then you will compel me to take satisfaction in another manner.”
“How?”
“I exact that you burn the numbers before my eyes, or I will proceed with you as with the journalist.”
“Oh! a beating,” said Cagliostro, laughing.
“Neither more nor less, sir. Doubtless you can call your servants.”
“Oh, I shall not call my servants; it is my own business. I am stronger than you, and if you approach me with your cane16, I shall take you in my arms and throw you across the room, and shall repeat this as often as you repeat your attempt.”
“Well, M. Hercules, I accept the challenge,” said Philippe, throwing himself furiously upon Cagliostro, who, seizing him round the neck and waist with a grasp of iron, threw him on a pile of cushions, which lay some way off, and then remained standing as coolly as ever.
Philippe rose as pale as death. “Sir,” said he, in a hoarse17 voice, “you are in fact stronger than I am, but your logic18 is not as strong as your arm; and you forgot, when you treated me thus, that you gave me the right to say, ‘Defend yourself, count, or I will kill you.’”
Cagliostro did not move.
“Draw your sword, I tell you, sir, or you are a dead man.”
“You are not yet sufficiently19 near for me to treat you as before, and I will not expose myself to be killed by you, like poor Gilbert.”<............