Various - "New York Times Current History: The European War from the Beginning to March 1915, Vol 1, No. 2"

Anatole Cerfberr and Jules François Christophe - "Repertory Of The Comedie Humaine, Complete, A Z"

Paul Laurence Dunbar - "The Sport of the Gods"

W. Allison Sweeney - "History of the American Negro in the Great World War"

Book Prizes Awarded With Nod to History
In P. D. James’s latest exercise in impeccable detection, a muckraking London journalist worms her way into a private clinic on a country estate — and ends up the victim of a ghastly murder.

Books of The Times: Despite a Ghastly Murder, Remember Your Manners
New books by Wally Lamb, Kate Jacobs, Dean Koontz, Mark Barrowcliffe and Julia Leigh.

Newly Released
Tiny Summit Entertainment finds itself sitting atop one of the biggest pop-culture phenomena of recent years.

Louise Muehlbach - A Conspiracy of the Carbonari

L >> Louise Muehlbach >> A Conspiracy of the Carbonari




The baron now cautiously opened the carriage door, and as it was just in
the act of turning a corner, he took advantage of the opportunity offered
to spring with a swift leap into the street.

He now hurried rapidly along the opposite side; his bearing was as vigorous
and energetic as it had just been bowed and feeble; and with the wrinkles
and gray hair every trace of age had also vanished he was now a young man,
but the large black eyes, with their bold, fiery gaze, suited the rosy
cheeks and fair hair as little as they had formerly harmonized with the old
man's pallid countenance. But at any rate the present youthfulness was no
disguise, and the swift, vigorous movements were no assumption; that was
evident from the ease and speed with which the baron, after entering one of
the handsomest houses in the Grabenstrasse, ran up the stairs, never
pausing until he had mounted the third flight. Beside the bell of a glass
door, on a shining brass plate, was engraved the name of Count von Kotte.
Baron von Moudenfels pulled this bell so violently that it echoed loudly,
and at the door, which instantly opened, appeared a liveried servant with
an angry face, muttering with tolerable distinctness something about
unseemly noise and rude manners.

"Is Count von Kotte at home?" asked the baron hastily.

"No," muttered the lackey, "the count isn't at home, and it wasn't
necessary to ring so horribly loud to ask the question."

He stepped back and was about to close the door again, but the baron thrust
his foot between it and the frame and seized the man's sleeve.

"My good fellow, I _must_ see the count," he said imperiously.

"But when I tell you that the count isn't--"

He stopped suddenly in the middle of his sentence and cast a stolen glance
at the florin which the baron had pressed into his hand.

"Announce me to Count von Kotte," said the baron pleasantly. "He will
certainly receive me."

"Your name, sir?" asked the lackey respectfully.

"Commissioner Kraus," was the reply. The man withdrew, and, a few minutes
after, returned with a smiling face.

"The count is at home and begs the gentleman to come in," he said, throwing
the door wide open and standing respectfully beside it.

Commissioner Kraus, smiling, stepped past him into the anteroom. A door on
the opposite side opened, and the tall figure of a man attired in the
Austrian uniform appeared.

"Is it really you, my dear Kraus!" he cried. "So you have returned already.
Come, come, I have longed to see you."

Holding out his hand to the visitor, he drew him hastily into the next
room.

"You have longed to see me, my dear count," said Kraus, laughing, "and yet
I was within an ace of being turned from your door. Since when have you
lived in a barricaded apartment, count?"

"Since the spies of the French governor of Vienna, Count Andreossy, have
watched my door and pursued my every step," replied the count, smiling.
"But now speak, my dear Kraus. You went to Totis? You talked with the
Emperor Francis?"

"I went to Totis and talked with the Emperor Francis."

"Good heavens! you say it with such a gloomy, solemn expression. Has the
emperor become irresolute?"

"Yes, that is it. The emperor is surrounded by adherents of the Napoleonic
party; they have succeeded in thrusting back the real patriots, the
Anti-Bonapartists, and would have rendered them wholly inactive had not
the Empress Ludovica tried to support them with all her influence. All is
not yet lost, but unless we soon succeed in making a decisive step, our
foes will completely gain the ear of the emperor, persuade him to accept
the ignoble, humiliating peace which Napoleon offered, and, from his enemy,
become his ally."

"It would be horrible if that could be done," cried the count sadly. "It is
not possible that the Emperor Francis could resolve upon such humiliation."

"They have alarmed the emperor, intimidated him; told him that his crown,
his life, were at stake; that unless he would make himself Napoleon's ally
and accept the proffered peace, the Emperor Napoleon would say of him what
he said of the Bourbons in Spain: 'The Hapsburg dynasty has ceased to
exist.' If something does not now happen, if we do not force a decision,
everything is lost. Austria will conclude a humiliating peace and, instead
of being delivered from the French tyrant's yoke, we shall be obliged to
see Austria sink into a French province, and the Emperor Francis, in spite
of his high-sounding title, become nothing more than the viceroy of the
Emperor Napoleon."

"It must not, it shall not come to that!" exclaimed the count wildly. "We
must risk everything to prevent this. We must stake our blood, our lives,
to save Austria and Germany!"

"Ah, if you speak and think _thus_, count, you are one of us; you will wish
to have a share in our work of liberation."

"Yes, I demand my share, and the greater and more perilous it is, the more
welcome it will be."

"We all risk our lives," said Kraus solemnly, "and if we are defeated, we
shall all be lost; for the Emperor Francis will not protect us--he will
abandon us to Napoleon's wrath, in order to prove that he had no part in
our plans. With this conviction, we must begin our work and arrange our
affairs as if we were going into a battle."

"My affairs are arranged, and I am ready," replied the count solemnly.

"Hush! listen! All our friends, like you, are ready, and the conspiracy
winds like a great chain through all the countries of Europe. Every one who
loves his native land, and therefore hates Napoleon, has laid his brave
hand on this chain and will add the link of his manly strength. In France,
in England, in Spain and Italy, in Sweden, in Russia and Turkey,
everywhere, our friends are waiting for the decisive act which must take
place here. In England they have bought arms and ammunition and sent them
to Heligoland Thence members of our league have brought them here and
distributed them among the brothers. In the harbor of Genoa a Swedish and
an English ship lie ready for our service; the English one to aid our
escape and convey us to England, if our enterprise fails; the Swedish one
to serve as a transport vessel, if we succeed. Everywhere our friends are
working, everywhere they are preparing the insurrection; Tyrol is like a
well-filled bomb which needs only the application of a spark to burst and
scatter confusion around it, and in the minds of individuals patriotism
has increased to a fanaticism which deems even murder a justifiable means
to rid Europe from the shameful yoke of the tyrant. If we cannot execute
our plan, if we do not succeed in abducting Napoleon, perhaps the dagger of
an assassin will he raised against him--an assassin who does not regard his
deed as a crime, but as a sacred duty."

"And why are we content with an abduction?" asked the count fiercely. "Why
should not the blood of the man who has shed so many torrents of blood, be
shed also?"

"Because that would be too light a punishment," said Kraus, with an
expression of gloomy hate. "Because it would be an atonement for all his
crimes, if he fell beneath the daggers of murderers. Such daggers rendered
the tyrant Julius Caesar a hero, a martyr, and they would also transform
Napoleon into a demi-god. No, we will not grant him such a triumph, such a
glorious end--we will not allow him a speedy death. He shall ignominiously
disappear; he shall die slowly on some barren island in the ocean; die amid
the tortures of solitude, of weariness, of powerless rage. This must be the
vengeance of Europe; this must be the end of the vampire who has drunk her
heart's blood."

"You are right? it shall, it must be so," cried the count, with sparkling
eyes. "Now tell me, what have _I_ to do? What part is assigned to _me_?"

"You will go to Genoa, count. Here is a letter from General Nugent to the
captain of the Swedish ship Proserpina, now lying in the harbor."

"But it is not sealed?" asked the count, taking the paper offered.

"Open it, and you will find that it does not contain a single word. I
received it so from our messenger, who brought it directly from Count
Nugent in Heligoland to me. It is your letter of recommendation, that is
all! Written words might compromise, spoken ones die away upon the wind. If
you deliver this, addressed in General Nugent's hand, to the captain of the
Proserpina, he will recognize you as the right messenger, and you will then
tell him verbally what you have to say."

"What shall I tell him?"

"Tell him to take in his freight, have his ballast on board, and keep
everything in readiness for departure. From the day that you reach him the
Proserpina must be ready for sea, and a boat must lie in the harbor night
and day to receive the members of our league who will come if the plan
succeeds."

"But I hope this is not all that I have to do? I shall not be denied a more
active part in the great cause?"

"If you wish, no! One of us will accompany Bonaparte to Genoa as his
jailer. You can relieve him there, and attend him to his prison."

"I will do so. But where will the prison be?"

"You will put him on some barren island in the ocean, which will serve as
his dungeon. Then you will return. But you must name the place to which you
conveyed him to no one except the heads of the society: that is, to General
Nugent and myself. We will guard it as the most sacred secret of our lives,
that no one may learn it--no one can make the attempt to rescue him."

"I thank you," cried the count joyously. "You assign me an honorable task,
which proves that the heads of the society trust me. What else have I to
do? Will not a meeting of the conspirators take place? Will you not summon
one?"

"No, for I shall go at once to Totis to make the most necessary additional
arrangements with General Bubna, and through him with the Empress Ludovica,
that, if the plot succeeds, the advantage will be ours and cannot be
claimed by the French party. But you, count, must manage to summon such an
assembly of our friends in some unsuspected place. I learn that Baroness de
Simonie is to give an entertainment to which, without knowing it, she has
invited a number of our friends. You will recognize them by the black
enamel ring which every member of our band must wear upon the little finger
of his left hand. You will name to each a place of meeting.

"Oh, I already know one," cried the count, "it is--"

"Mention no names," Kraus interrupted quickly. "I shall not be present, so
it is not necessary for me to know. Every secret is imperiled by needless
communication, and we must compromise no one without cause. Here, count,
are some necessary papers in which you will find further instructions. Make
your preparations accordingly, and when you have read them and informed the
persons concerned, burn them."

"But you tell me nothing about the principal matter," said the count. "Who
will accomplish the actual deed? Who will have the heroic daring to take
Napoleon captive?"

"Many will be active in that, count. The names are not to be mentioned, but
if you lay stress upon it, I will tell you that of the person who has
undertaken to lie in ambush for Napoleon, gag him, and carry him away. It
is Baron von Moudenfels."

"Von Moudenfels? I don't know him, but I have heard of him. Was it not
Baron von Moudenfels who arranged the secret connection with the
conspirators in the French army, and negotiated with Oudet?"

"Yes, the same man. He is a great patriot and a daring fellow. He hates
Napoleon, and if he once has him in his grasp, he will die rather than
suffer him to escape, though Napoleon should offer a kingdom as a ransom.
Now farewell, count, and may God grant that we see each other again
successful! May the guardian angel of our native land protect us in the
perils which we must bravely meet."

"So be it," said the count, cordially pressing in his own Kraus' extended
hand. "Go to Totis: I will go to Genoa, to await my prisoner there."

With the same hasty steps as he had come, Commissioner Kraus again hastened
down the steps, and once more plunged into the tumult of the street. After
a short walk, he again entered a house and ascended the stairs to a door in
the fourth story beside which, in a rush-bottomed chair, sat a servant,
with his head bowed on his breast, sleeping peacefully.

Baron von Moudenfels or Commissioner Kraus tapped the slumberer lightly on
the shoulder.

"Wake up and open the door, Peter!" he said.

The man started up and stared at the person standing before him with
dilated eyes.

"Who are you, sir, and what do you want of me?" he exclaimed sulkily.

"Then you don't know me?" asked Kraus, smiling. "Must I tell you that I am
your master?"

"Herr Baron! Is it you? Is it possible that it's you; that anybody can
disguise himself so--and--"

"Hush! you know that you are not to wonder at anything, and must always be
prepared to see me in any disguise. True, I should have expected that you
would recognize your master's voice."

"I beg your pardon, sir; I was so very sound asleep. I didn't sleep all
night because I was expecting you, and I've been on the watch all day."

"Have many spies been here?" asked the baron as, followed by his servant,
he entered his sitting-room.

"Yes, sir, they fairly besieged the door of the house and patrolled the
opposite side of the street all day long. Three times, too, gentlemen
called to ask for you. They said that they were visitors, but I think they
were only spies who wanted to find out whether you were at home."

"Well, now they can come and assure themselves that I'm here," replied his
master, stretching himself comfortably upon the sofa. "True, it won't last
long--we start in an hour. Order post-horses, Peter, two post-horses and a
light carriage, and pack the baggage."

"Yes, sir!" sighed Peter. "What clothes will you take? Do we travel this
time again as Baron von Moudenfels, and must I pack the old gentleman's
baggage as I did for the journey to Frankfort?"

"No, not as Baron von Moudenfels. This time I shall go in my own person and
under my own name. We shall go to Totis to the camp of his majesty the
emperor. So take the court dress and everything necessary for a gentleman.
Thank heaven, I shall be rid of the tiresome wig for a few days."

Removing the blonde wig he passed his hand through the black locks which
appeared under it.

"Hurry, Peter, order post-horses and pack our clothing; we must start in an
hour."




CHAPTER VI.

THE CONSPIRACY DISCOVERED.


The festival was over, the last guests had taken leave of Baroness de
Simonie, and the servants and lackeys were gliding noiselessly through the
empty rooms to extinguish the lights in the chandeliers and candelabra, and
here and there push the scattered pieces of furniture into place.

Baroness de Simonie had gone to her boudoir, but though it was late at
night she seemed to feel no disposition to retire to rest, nor was there
the slightest expression of weariness on her beautiful face; her eyes
sparkled as brightly as they had just flashed upon her guests, and there
was no change in the proud carriage of her head, or of the tall, slender
figure, still robed in white satin veiled with silver-embroidered white
crepe. The diadem of diamonds still glittered in her hair, and clasps of
the same brilliant gems adorned her neck and her bare white arms.

Madame de Simonie was pacing up and down her boudoir with hasty, impetuous
steps; her whole being seemed intensely agitated. Sometimes she paused at
the door to listen, then with panting breath resumed her restless movement
to and fro, while her scarlet lips murmured: "He does not come yet.
Something extraordinary must have happened. But what? What? Can he be in
danger? Oh, my God, if this terrible week were once over, that--But hush! I
hear footsteps; it is he."

Springing to the door with a single bound like a lioness, she tore it
open.

"Is it you, father?"

"Yes, it is I," he answered, entering the room and cautiously locking the
door behind him.

"Thank heaven that you are here, father!" she sighed, with an air of
relief.

"What?" he asked, smiling, "has my Leonore again become so affectionate a
daughter that she is anxious about her father if he is suddenly called away
at night? For you have been anxious about me--about me and no one
else--have you not?"

"No, not for you," she cried impetuously, "for him, for him alone. Tell me
that he is not in danger, that he has nothing to do with the matter on
whose account you were so suddenly called away!"

"I swear it, Leonore. But, my child, the impetuosity of your passion is
beginning to make me uneasy. How will you keep your head clear, if your
heart is burning with such impetuous fire that the rising smoke must
becloud your brain? I have allowed you to give yourself the amusement of
love, but you must not make a serious life question of it."

"Yet I shall either perish of this love or be new-born by it," she
murmured. "But let us not talk about it. Tell me first why you left the
ball so suddenly?"

"Urgent business, my child. The emperor sent for me to come to Schoenbrunn."

"The emperor! What did he want of you?"

"There is something to be discovered, Leonore--a murderer who seeks the
emperor's life."

"A murderer!" she said, shuddering; "my God, suppose it should be he!"

"The emperor has received an anonymous letter from Hungary, in which he is
informed that, during the course of the next week, a young man will come to
Schoenbrunn to murder him.[D] I suppose that this comes directly from the
Emperor Francis' court at Totis. Some fanatic has told the Emperor Francis
that he will go there to murder his hated foe, and the kind-hearted
emperor, in his magnanimity has sent this warning to Napoleon."

"And _he_ was in Totis," said Leonore, trembling, under her breath, "and he
told me that in a week something decisive would happen."

"You are silent, Leonore?" asked her father. "Have you nothing to tell
me?"

She started from her sorrowful reverie; a bold, resolute fire again flashed
in her eyes. "I have many things to tell you, many important things," she
replied. "But I will not utter a single word unless you first take an
oath."

"What oath?"

"The oath that, if it is Kolbielsky who comes to murder Napoleon, you will
warn him and let him escape."

"But how am I to warn him in advance, since the probability is that, if I
really catch him, it will be at the moment of the deed."

"Well, then, you will let him escape at that moment, if it is Kolbielsky."

"But that is impossible, Leonore! You will understand yourself that it is
impossible."

"Well, then, do as you choose, but do not ask me to communicate my
discoveries. Good-night, father; I feel tired, I will go to sleep."

Passing her father, she approached the door. But just as she was about to
open it, he laid his hand on her arm and stopped her.

"Stubborn girl," he said, smiling, "I see that your will must be obeyed to
induce you to speak. Well, then, I swear that, if the person who comes to
murder Napoleon is Baron von Kolbielsky, I will let him escape if he falls
into my hands."

"Swear it by my mother's spirit and memory."

"I swear it by your mother's spirit and memory. But now, Leonore, speak.
Have you really discovered a conspiracy?"

"Yes, I have discovered a conspiracy, and, thank heaven, I can tell you
everything--the names of all the conspirators; for _he_ is not among
them--he has nothing to do with this crazy, reckless affair. Father, you
can tell Napoleon that a widespread conspiracy exists, and that it even has
numerous adherents in his own army. The most aristocratic members of it
were present at my entertainment and held a consultation here. Colonel
Mariage, as you know, had begged me to give him and his friends a room
where they could talk undisturbed."

"And you gave him the little red drawing-room didn't you?"

"Yes. I gave them the little red drawing-room, which is reached from this
boudoir. I was in the niche and heard all."

"So it is really an actual conspiracy?" asked her father, with a happy
smile.

"Really an actual conspiracy," she repeated gravely, "and unless you warn
the Emperor Napoleon, unless you save him, he will be a lost man within a
week, even if that murderer's dagger should not strike him."

"That is splendid, that is marvelous," cried her father. "Leonore, this
time we shall really attain our goal. We shall be rich. The emperor is
generous; he loves life. I will set a high price upon it. By heaven, the
Caesar's head is well worth four hundred thousand francs! I will ask them,
and I shall receive. We shall be rich enough to do without and be
independent of men."

"And I shall be free," murmured Leonore, with a flash of enthusiasm upon
her beautiful face. "You will not forget, father, that you promised to give
me my liberty if I helped you to become rich. You will not forget that you
are to permit me to escape, with the man I love, from this false, pitiful
world, and fly with him to some remote, secluded nook, where no one knows
me--no one can betray to him the shame and sin of my past life. And above
all, father, you will not forget that you have solemnly sworn to reveal
nothing of my former existence, not to let him suspect who I am, and--"

"Who and what your father is, you wanted to say," he interrupted. "Yes, I
will remember and not disclose our little secrets to him. The virtuous
Baron von Kolbielsky would certainly be very much astonished if he made the
discovery that your major-domo has the honor of being your father, and that
the father of the proud baroness is no other than the well-known spy
Schulmeister, who has rendered the Emperor Napoleon so many useful
services, and whose name Kolbielsky has so often mentioned in my presence
with scornful execration. No, he must not learn all this. We will conceal
our past, we will begin a new life, and since we shall then be rich enough,
it will not be difficult for us to remain noble and virtuous. But now, my
Leonore, tell me exactly and in detail everything you know. Come, let us
sit down on this divan and allow me to note at once the most important
points in your story, and especially the names."

"Then listen, father! Thursday next the emperor is to be carried away by
force."

"Carried away--where?" asked Schulmeister, smiling.

"To some desolate island in the ocean. But do not interrupt me; don't let
me anticipate, but relate everything in regular order. So listen and note
what is necessary. There is a conspiracy which has its members in the
French army, in the garrison now in Vienna, nay, even among those who are
in the closest attendance upon the emperor, and which unites all the
malcontents in France with the foes of Napoleon throughout all Europe.
Heligoland is the meeting-place for the envoys of the conspirators
throughout Europe; there the central committee always assembles at certain
times, and from there by confidential messengers and fellow conspirators
issues its commands and directions to the members in all places; there is
the depot of the arms, ammunition, and other military stores. Thither
England has sent General Bathurst; Spain, General Bandari, for consultation
and agreement with the Austrian General Nugent, the Russian General
Demidoff, and a certain Baron von Moudenfels, who has apparently played a
prominent part in all these negotiations, and in whose hands all the single
threads of this many-branched conspiracy meet. There was devised and
arranged the plan which is now to be executed and in which Baron von
Moudenfels plays the most important part."

"Do you know this Baron von Moudenfels?" asked Schulmeister. "Was he at
your entertainment this evening? I saw several gentlemen who were strangers
to me, and whose names I was going to ask you, when I was called away. Was
Baron von Moudenfels among them?"

"No, father, he was not among them, and I do not know Baron von Moudenfels
at all. According to the descriptions which I heard of him this evening, he
is a man already advanced in years, but whose youthful vigor and energy
were extravagantly praised and admired. Baron von Moudenfels has been the
originator and director of the whole plan, and has been engaged for months
in making preparations for its execution. Listen to the rest of my story!
On Thursday the plot must be put into action. On that day the emperor will
take a ride in the afternoon, as he always does. If, by chance, he should
show no disposition to do so, they will induce him by some means, and will
persuade him to go to the woods near Schoenbrunn. The emperor likes to
dismount there and stroll along the lovely, shady paths, talking with his
generals. To his surprise he will find a most charming little hut which he
has not seen before--for the very good reason that it was erected only the
previous day. The emperor, as is well-known, is curious, and he will go to
it. The conspirators--and his entire suite is composed of them--the
conspirators will propose going in. A French song, the signal that
everything is ready, will be heard within. The emperor will enter, his
companions will follow. Inside the hut armed conspirators will be
stationed, who, as soon as the emperor enters, will seize and gag him, bind
him hand and foot, and thus render him harmless. Then one of the party who
entered with the emperor, Colonel Lejeune, whose figure is exactly like
his, will put on a suit of clothes made precisely like the emperor's, and,
donning Napoleon's three-cornered hat, will leave the hut. Meanwhile
twilight will have gathered, and the conspirators, with the emperor--that
is Colonel Lejeune--at their head, will return to Schoenbrunn. The guards
will salute as soon as they see the emperor dash into the courtyard. The
chief equerry will hold his stirrup, and help him to dismount. The emperor,
followed by his suite, will enter the castle, and silently, according to
his custom, ascend the stairs and go to the hall where he receives his
marshals; there, as he so frequently does, he will dismiss all who are
present with a wave of his hand and pass on into his study, which adjoins
his sleeping-room."

Copyright (c) 2007. topmasterworks.com. All rights reserved.