Part 5

"No," said Severinus; "our mission is to serve God alone. This claims us so entirely that the interests of individuals must be excluded. We cannot trouble ourselves about any one who is not in some manner useful to this end; he must apply to those orders whose sole vocation is the practice of Christian charity. If he cannot find among them the benefits he seeks, he would not be worthy of ours."

"Well, for what do I owe you gratitude?" asked _Heinrich_.

"Because you were afforded an opportunity to advance the holiest cause, to become a fellow-laborer in the service of the Highest Being. What are we men, what is our feeble influence? Only when we belong to a great band, unite our strength, direct our manifold powers towards _one_ lofty aim, do we feel strong and have real weight. And the more we enter into the struggle of the whole, the more petty cares for ourselves disappear, then only do we obtain true contentment."

"My noble Severinus," exclaimed _Heinrich_, "do you not suppose that I too belong to such a band, like all who are imbued with one great aim? Do you not suppose that there are sacred interests in the world and among nations, whose representatives are united by an invisible bond of common activity? Are you not sure that in our world also there are such associations which, without compulsion or vows, without being bound by time and space, or ruled by statutes, have an eternal existence?"

"What you say sounds very noble; I know these are your philosophical catch-words, but it is untenable," said Severinus. "Your union, supposing that such an one might exist in fancy, is too diffuse to produce the consciousness of mutual dependence, which can alone suppress selfishness in individuals; you gentlemen, who desire to promote the happiness of the world, always have room enough within the limits of your imaginary union to cherish your individual cares and interests, and make war upon yourselves. Even though your object may perhaps be the same, you are always at variance about the means of attaining it; nay, you are often, from purely personal motives, most bitter enemies. You may have an association, but you have no unity, and your efforts are unsuccessful in consequence of your want of harmony. You lack positive legal consolidation, which is the secret of our power; and while you win at tea-tables men of superior minds to join your confederacy, we deprive you of the masses. You can undoubtedly belong to such a band without injury to your egotism," he added, smiling; "but you will always feel discontented and solitary." He paused and gazed at _Heinrich_, then continued: "How differently you would labor with us! My son, is there no way of bringing you back? Is there no feeling of devotion which binds you to me? You say you are free from every obligation to the order; are you also free from all obligations to me? I think I have done more for you than even our purpose would have rendered necessary. As prefect of the college, all manner of claims were made upon me; yet when my days were occupied I sacrificed my nights to initiate you into secrets which the order confides only to a chosen few. I have borne with your thousand caprices, smothered your passions with inexhaustible indulgence, and unweariedly labored to develop your great talents. I wished to obtain you for our cause, not only because we needed remarkable powers, but also because I knew of no greater happiness for yourself. In you I learned to love men once more; for your sake, I have become tolerant, for your sake I have come from Rome. My chilled heart warmed towards you as towards a son. Does this deserve no love,--not even forbearance?"

"Love!" said _Heinrich_, impatiently. "What do you desire? Men do not love each other. I honor you, for you are the best and noblest of all in the college, and if we had a common interest I would gladly join you; but I do not deal in useless feelings, and frankly confess that I don't understand how people can have them, except towards women."

"Is it possible?" exclaimed Severinus. "So you believe you love only what you desire to possess. You love nothing at all, _Heinrich_, and I resign all hope of moving you by gentleness and kindness." So saying, he started up and again leaned against the pedestal of the marble Hebe, who vainly held her goblet of joy above his head. His delicately cut features were slightly flushed, and his dark eyes flashed an imperious glance at _Heinrich_. "Here stands a man who has devoted his whole life to the service of a divine idea. Educated in a Jesuit college, sent into the would as an ecclesiastical coadjutor, and finally promoted to the rank of assistant, I learned to share all the joys and sorrows of our order, and have become a Jesuit from the crown of my head to the sole of my foot. I have felt every passion struggle within me and subdued them all: for the honor of God was the object unchangeably before my eyes; I used my life only as a preparation for eternity, and therefore proudly approach death without blanching. Will you meet the annihilation in which you believe as calmly?"

"I hope so," said _Heinrich_, coldly.

"And if, instead of your deities of sensuality which beckon to you here, a bleeding Christ should appear before you in his chaste mother's lap, pleading, 'Turn back to those who will guide you in my ways--'"

"I would say to him, 'Lord, guide me in thy ways _thyself_!'" exclaimed _Heinrich_, with a forced laugh.

"And if we threatened you with the curse of the church?"

"I would become a Protestant."

"Misguided, accursed son of the flesh, with which you defile the vessel of divinity, your joys shall one day be shivered by the hand of the Lord like this idol!" cried Severinus in an outburst of fury, seizing the Hebe and dashing it so violently at the feet of the startled _Heinrich_ that the room shook and the graceful head rolled a long distance. The dust rose from the floor in clouds.

For a moment _Heinrich_ stood petrified with astonishment, gazing regretfully at the beautiful broken limbs. "So you intend to close our conversation with this resounding crash, father?" he asked at last, when he had recovered his former sarcastic mood.

"Close? Oh, no; we have not done with each other yet," said Severinus, as he paced up and down the apartment several times, and then suddenly paused with quiet dignity before _Heinrich_. "This is the most disgraceful trick my impetuous temper has ever played me. Fortunately, I can replace your broken property. It would be far more difficult to repair the moral loss you have sustained in this hour. We will come to an understanding quietly. My recent violence was the last outbreak of my sorrow for your loss, but your cold derision has chilled my affection forever. Ascribe it to your own conduct if my dealings with you are henceforth destitute of all consideration. The _man_ is dead to me, you are now simply the enemy of my church, whom at any cost I must disarm."

_Heinrich_ looked at him in astonishment. "Indeed, I am curious to learn in what way you will propose to effect this."

"You shall know at once. We must first determine the relations in which you will in future stand towards our order."

"That would be useless labor, father, since for a long time no relations have existed between us, and none will ever be formed again!"

"They will, they must exist! The tie was formerly a voluntary one on your part, now it will be compulsory: that is the only difference. You have proved to me that you have secretly deserted us, my care will be to prevent your making it public; and since persuasion is unavailing, this must be done by force."

"Force?" cried _Heinrich_, starting up. "What do you mean?"

"Simply that I possess means to compel you to that which you will not do of your own free will."

"Father Severinus, we intimidate children in this way, but not men!"

Severinus looked him steadily in the face. "Have you ever seen me employ empty threats?"

"No," replied _Heinrich_, with visible anxiety.

"Very well; then let us come to the point without further circumlocution. You must first of all be fully informed of your present situation. That you are pointed out as our agent, and consequently in disfavor here, you know, and also that you must take leave as soon as possible, if you prefer an honorable voluntary resignation to a disgraceful dismissal."

"And why must I do this? Who can dismiss me on the ground of such vague accusations?"

"These accusations will be proved."

"They cannot be, for I shall find means to justify myself. Although I cannot deny having been for some time connected with you, it does not follow that this is still the case."

"That too is provided for. We possess the most irrefutable proofs that you still maintain an intercourse with us by letter." He drew out a small portfolio. "Now I will ask you for a lamp." _Heinrich_ lighted the candles, and saw two envelopes, which Severinus held out to him, addressed in his own hand. "You see,--these envelopes contained the replies to the General's requests concerning the erection of a private institution in H----. We shall know how to conceal the fact that these answers were refusals. It is enough that the postmarks on envelopes addressed by your own hand will afford proofs of the recent existence of a secret correspondence."

"And of what use will they be if you are forced to conceal their contents? Suppose you are asked why you do not produce the letters themselves?"

"It will be sufficient reason to say that they contained important secrets which we cannot reveal on any account."

_Heinrich_ passionately struck his brow. "Oh, could I suspect that I had to deal with men to whom no measures are too petty, and who are not ashamed to collect pitiful envelopes and use them to aid their designs!"

"Nothing is so trivial that it is not worth the trouble of keeping, if it can serve the honest cause. Our Lord Jesus Christ was not ashamed to pick up a piece of old iron; why should not we, his servants, make even the most trifling things useful for his designs?"

"I hope, father, that you yourself feel the humorousness, not to say absurdity, of such logic at this moment."

"Let us not digress. I am aware that our proceedings can in no case meet with your approval, and bear you no ill will for it; therefore I have not submitted them to your judgment. Every word which does not directly concern the matter in hand is a mere waste of time."

"Well, then, father, we will use very few. Tell me exactly what you require."

"That you should bind yourself to contend with us no longer."

_Heinrich_ burst into a loud laugh. "And by these untenable threats you wish to induce me to take such a step! No, father, we have not yet gone so far. Although I have no proofs that our correspondence was a hostile one, you are equally unable to show that it was confidential and friendly; far less, that I have failed in my duty towards my own government. Our risks are equal."

"If they are, I need only throw in these papers and your scale will sink!" held aloft a roll of manuscript. "Here are the proofs of the offenses you committed against your government and court during your stay in Rome. Whoever sees them will no longer doubt that you are a traitor now as well as then!"

"Severinus!" cried _Heinrich_, fairly beside himself with fury.

"Be calm, my friend; we are only weighing our comparative advantages and disadvantages. If you compel me to make these papers public, your honor and all your ambitious plans are destroyed!"

"If you rob me of my future career as a statesman, woe betide you! Do you see what an enemy you will find in me? I, too, am in possession of secrets which you would not desire to have revealed!"

"As we know this, my friend, we do you the honor of treating with you. Towards any one else we should have adopted a shorter course. The only point in question now is which of us has most to lose, and it is you!"

"What do those papers contain?" asked _Heinrich_, in a hollow tone.

"In the first place an article in your own hand, which you prepared at the rector's command, containing the characteristics of this court and those of the most influential persons who surround the prince."

"That can only compromise me personally," said _Heinrich_, with forced composure.

"It can be displayed by a malevolent person as an act of treachery to your court in favor of the Jesuits' designs,--and in fact it was intended to aid us in our first steps here."

"It failed, however, for the characteristics were not correct. Any one who is familiar with the relations existing here will instantly perceive that they are intentionally falsified, to mislead any one who might wish to use them."

"This may have proceeded from want of judgment quite as much as design."

_Heinrich_ suppressed a smile. "Oh, father, pardon my lack of modesty if I doubt that any would impute want of judgment to _me_!"

Severinus bit his lips. "You were a very young man, whose penetration could not have been so well disciplined as now. Meantime, where many proofs are brought together the number turns the scale, and I possess one which will weigh heavier than all the rest." He drew a printed document from his breast and pointed to the title. "Who is the author of this pamphlet written in favor of the Jesuits and against your government?"

"I," said _Heinrich_, coldly. "But, fortunately, you can create no proofs of the fact."

"We can procure them."

"_No_, father; there was but one, the manuscript written by my own band; and this no longer exists, for I threw it into the fire myself, and saw it burn with my own eyes. I knew you crafty gentlemen too well to allow such a dangerous document to fall into your possession."

"You burned the manuscript, but not the proof-sheets," said Severinus. "When you asked for them you were told that they had already been destroyed. Here are the corrections written in your own hand! You wondered at the time that we should have such miserable compositors in our secret printing-establishments, because you found whole words wrong. You were unsuspicious enough not to perceive that the errors were only made in order to obtain as many corrections as possible in your handwriting; no one who knows its peculiar characteristics will doubt the authenticity of this document." _Heinrich_ turned very pale. He cast a glance of deadly hatred at Severinus, who was quietly watching him. "Moreover, here is also the letter you sent to Father K. with the pamphlets he had ordered; and although you took the precaution not to name the title, no one will believe that you submitted to the judgment of the General of the Jesuits any other manuscript than one written in the interests of the order." expression of bitter irony played around the priest's delicate lips. "It seems to me that you were not aware how 'crafty' we are! You can now proceed to make public all these 'contemptible coercive measures,' as you call them; you may perhaps thereby injure us a little, but you will not justify yourself. As soon as this secret is revealed you are lost. Suppose you hold psychological discussions with your court and government concerning the transformation which has taken place in you, and the causes that induced you to deny your convictions for an entire year,--you will be laughed at, and your name will be handed before all parties."

_Heinrich_ trembled with rage. The painful dilemma into which he found himself hurried without the slightest warning, the incomprehensibility of his situation, the priest's crushing dialectics, and his own physical exhaustion--all these combined causes so bewildered him that he lost all control over himself, and following only the blind impulses of his instinct, he vigorously rushed upon Severinus, who had just replaced the document in his breast. "Hold!" he cried, seizing his arm. "Do you really suppose I will voluntarily leave these papers, which decide the destiny of my whole life, in your hands?"

Severinus remained perfectly calm, and measured him with a contemptuous glance. "Ottmar, I could defend myself if I did not have sufficient confidence in your good sense to know that I am safe from violence."

After a long pause, Severinus approached him; his expression became more gentle, his harsh tone softened, and it seemed as if sorrow was mirrored in his eyes as he laid his hand gently upon the young man's shoulder and in a low tone murmured his name. The latter looked up sullenly.

"Ottmar, I do not act for myself, but for my church."

"It is a matter of indifference to me for when you act if you destroy my career. Oh, it is despicable! I have robbed you of the labors of a year, but you are defrauding me of a whole life! Woe to him who rashly ventures within your charmed circle! He can never break through it without being crushed."

"Ottmar, I do not understand how you could ever have imagined we would send such an invaluable power into the world without holding in our hands the leading-strings by which we could draw you back at any moment. Let us come to some conclusion. I have the most positive orders not to leave here without the security I have already mentioned. If you do not promise to-night that you will voluntarily send in your resignation, to-morrow I must commence proceedings which will make you a dishonored man."

"And I am to allow my hands to be tied, I am to mount to this height, and in the zenith of my success to be hurled back to every-day obscurity, laughed at and dishonored! No, I will not and cannot be ruined by you! You recognize only the fanaticism with which you incessantly pursue your own aims. I too am a fanatic; but it is in the cause of ambition, and to this everything must yield, good and bad. You shall perceive that I have not been your pupil in vain. You have impressed upon me the stamp of your society to brand me in the eyes of my party; but what will injure me at _Protestant_ courts will aid me in _Catholic_ ones. If I am reported to be a Jesuit, I will make the rumor profitable. I will enter the service of a Catholic country under the guise of being in accord with you. You cannot contradict yourselves so far as to decry me here as an ultramontanist and there as a liberal. I will go to N----, where you are sure that I am powerless against you. If this is not sufficient security, let the battle begin,--I can do no more!"

"It is the only expedient that you still have, if you seek your happiness solely in the brilliancy of a diplomatic career; and it is not our intention to exclude you from it, for we do not wish to drive you to extremities unnecessarily. N---- is at least the only place where you cannot injure us. On this condition we will mutually spare each other and keep the peace; but if you succeed in obtaining influence in N----, and should ever attempt to use it against us, we have the power there to crush you at once: not by stratagem, but by our firmly-established might. Do not forget this."

"Ottilie," thought _Heinrich_, "you spoke the truth. I have so poisoned the air with my falsehoods that I breathe nothing but corruption, and am rightly served." "Well, then," he said to Severinus, "your holy object is attained by the noblest means. You thrust a man, who has hitherto made only a short digression from the path of right, into a course of wrong and hypocrisy, careless whether a soul is destroyed, so that appearances are preserved."

Severinus cast down his eyes. "The cause must be saved; the individual must be sacrificed to the cause. May God have mercy upon his soul, if that which should lead him to good turns him to evil! Come, we will repeat our agreement before witnesses." Severinus opened the door, and they entered the drawing-room, where the others were waiting with anxious faces.

_Heinrich's_ offer was discussed in detail and confirmed by his word of honor, after which he took a formal leave of the gentlemen.

Severinus turned in the doorway and clasped his hand. "I do not know what mysterious impulse of affection binds me to you, that, while treating you as my worst enemy, tears of sorrow dim my eyes, although I have only faithfully obeyed my orders. For Christ's sake forgive me, as I pardon you, and if ever you need me call upon me!" He gazed at _Heinrich_ with all the strange meaning of his wonderful eyes. It seemed as if their brilliancy was shadowed by tears as he asked, "Shall I not see you again when I return to H---- in a few weeks?"

"No," said _Heinrich_. "I shall send in my resignation to-morrow, and depart as soon as possible."

Severinus suddenly clasped him passionately to his breast. "Farewell, my lost son! From this hour I will love nothing but God!" Then he went down the staircase with a steady step, without casting another glance behind. Old Anton lighted the way, and then returned, pale but calm.

"Where is Roeschen?" exclaimed _Henri_, who was longing to forget the tortures of the past hour in the arms of love.

"She is not here," said the old man.

"Not here?" asked _Henri_, in amazement. "Where is she?"

"Forgive me, Herr Baron! I could do nothing else,--I took her home to her father."

"What! what!" cried _Henri_, fairly beside himself with rage. "Did you dare to oppose your master? Leave this house early to-morrow morning before I am up! I will never see you again!"

He threw a heavy purse at his feet. The old man burst into tears, and his knees trembled under him.

"Herr Baron," he said, in a choking voice, "may you never regret having driven such a faithful servant from you! Farewell! may God preserve you!"

With these words he tottered out of the room, while Ottmar threw himself upon his couch in a mood of sullen discontent; for the first time consciousness of his marred existence came over him with crushing distinctness.

The second step was taken; he had fallen one degree lower. The warning voice had not failed him, but Egotism must complete his work at the cost of everything else.

The first act _Heinrich_ had committed against his conscience, under the influence of this terrible demon, was the game he had played for a year with the Jesuits, in order to obtain knowledge which would be useful in his career. When he afterwards came to the decision, where he had an equal amount to lose or gain, he chose the path of truth; but now he again encountered the necessity of sacrificing his ambition or his convictions, and principle was compelled to yield to egotism. He would henceforth choose the path of falsehood, of worldly advantage, instead of the only one which could lead him to higher things.

He had bound himself to appear in N---- as an enemy of progress,--to aid in oppressing an impoverished nation. He must persuade his conscience that all his ideas of right and freedom were dead, and not worth the sacrifice of a whole life of honor and influence,--that the philanthropy which, in the guise of an earnest sense of duty, had lived his cold intellect, was an eccentricity of his youth, and must yield to his own advantage; in truth, it could not be otherwise. Only the emotional nature makes all ideas so living that we weep, suffer, and bleed for them as if they were real sentient beings, and gives us, for men whom we cannot draw within the circle visible to our senses, that warm feeling of sympathy which we call philanthropy. But he had lost this power, and with it a true sense of honor, yet to-night he found no repose. He was formed by nature for noble ends, and although he no longer felt as he had done in former days, he knew what his emotions were once. He knew the difference between right and wrong, and that he was choosing the latter, and looked back with shame upon the preceding day.